#if wrestling gives me literally nothing else to watch or root for. i know i can watch jay.

[likesummerrainn]

"an increasingly unbalanced jay white"

[roadmotel]

Hi!

This is a super long ask and I hope it's interesting instead of annoying.

I have just finished reading the book "The Carnivorous Lamb" by Augustin Gomez-Arcos, and one of the main plot points is the love between the protagonist and his brother. Needless to say, many passages reminded me of the brothers. And then I thought I'd send them; even if they're not material for your blog, I thought you might enjoy taking a look, since the book has a very beautiful and evocative style... If it's not your thing, I apologize in advance! All in all, I love your blog and I hope you're having a nice week <3

Here it goes:

Father coming in at neutral moments to plant a kiss on my forehead, then hurrying out (did he love me, I wonder?), my brother, rooted to the spot, devouring me with his eyes. The house gone mad, blind anarchy stealthily taking it over,

Page 28

This ritual of waiting, which I have lived minute by minute since five o’clock in the afternoon last Friday, strikes me as completely useless. It brings me nothing new. Written in my cells when I was a child, it has ruled my behavior ever since. And my behavior has never been more than an appendage of yours, somewhat like a dog’s tail in relation to the dog. What can I do, though? When someone else’s life is the only space you have to live in, you can’t choose but to wait. Whether you come as a lover or an executioner, I am ready to receive you. More ready than ever. With all the obligations that waiting for you imposes on me. But don’t come as a brother, to profane me in the family blasphemy; if you do, my waiting for you will assert its rights. So open the door. Come in.

Page 55

I no longer had any trouble understanding the softness of my brother’s look, and the ever stronger, fiercer desire I felt to melt into him. With me, he acted like a creator. He sensed—no, he was sure—that he was shaping me day by day into the image of something special that he loved unconsciously. And passionately.

Page 70

I felt I should minimize the whole thing, but was petrified by a hardness on his face I had never seen before. A dangerous light glinted in his eyes, and an animal’s clenched teeth showed between his tight lips. The black-and-blue mark someone else’s hand had put on my behind had enraged him—even though I didn’t always emerge unscathed from our own wrestling matches. A savage heat started burning in my flesh, and I suddenly felt proud of having caused the bruise, which had the magnificent power of showing me the strength of my brother’s passion. My skin became translucent, the better to show Antonio my pre-adolescent frailty. He couldn’t take his eyes off my bruised flesh. “The bastard! The bastard!”

Page 90

“I won’t even let my parents raise a hand to him. Do you think I’m going to let you?” “I am his teacher, not his.…” “…brother,” finished Antonio, in a voice as sharp as a whip-crack. “I’m his brother. Me.” They watched each other in silence. No need to explain further.

Page 92

Within me, my brother’s presence stirred a craving for apocalypse. The Latin words falling softly from his lips tickled the most secret parts of my body, as if he were speaking directly to me and not to God.

Page 167

I could detail the disturbing contents of your dreams, the things you yourself don’t know, one anxiety after another. I could tell you if I knew the right words … but who could prompt me, who could give me those mysterious words? I know you so well, I can’t describe you. There is a you of you I can certainly describe. But I can’t tell you a thing about the other you of you, my you.

Page 235

You cross the hallway. You try to open my bedroom door, but it is closed. And locked. You order me to open it, as if I still belonged to you. You beg me to open it, as if you still belonged to me. But I don’t open it, and I don’t stop shouting.

Page 255

You lick our tears from my eyes before they stain my face, like someone trying to get drunk. You feed on us. And you say: “Easy, easy. I’m here.” But I know you don’t want me to stop, because you really do need to feed on me.

Page 256

And this is a classic passage, you might have seen it around before:

“I love you because you’re mine. I love you because I possess you. I love you because you need love. I love you because you’re disorder, and I don’t like order. I love you because when you look at me I feel like a hero, and always have. I especially love you because I’ve finally understood that I can’t talk about my love to anyone else but you, and that’s what real love is. Two beings who make up one solitude, one silence. And I love you because touching you makes me feel I’m more of a man than anyone.” You look at me as if you were in me. And you are in me. And outside me. Everywhere.

Page 262

oh please don't apologize! i’ve actually read this book, i think i’ve even posted a few quotes from it on here. it's incredibly well-written, unsettling, and confronting. funnily enough, i actually found out about this book because years ago i watched the film from beginning to end (also about an intense sexual relationship between two brothers) and there was a quote from it that i really liked:

“i love you because you’re mine. i love you because you need love. i love you because when you look at me i feel like a hero. it was always like that. i love you because when i touch you i feel more a man than any other man.”

so i googled it and the carnivorous lamb popped up and i read the premise and was like wait was the movie based on this book? but there was no acknowledgment of the book in the movie’s credits and i couldn’t find anything about it being an inspiration for the movie on wikipedia so i was like holy shit. then i read the carnivorous lamb (and loved it like it’s really incredible) and realized that from beginning to end completely ripped off the book. even the opening lines in from beginning to end are super reminiscent of a specific passage from the carnivorous lamb. 

the movie opens with:

“i was born with my eyes wide shut. sure, everybody is born with their eyes closed. but mine were closed so tight, they formed wrinkles. i remained with my eyes closed for more than two weeks. my mother, contrary to expectations, didn’t worry [...] while he [brother] stared at me through the thick, soundproof nursery glass window, i without any reason opened my eyes, and looked straight into his.”

and in the book, ignacio says:

“from the moment i opened my eyes, an incredible sixteen days after i was born, you [brother] were always sure of everything where i was concerned. it was all laid out in advance for you, even the unexpected. do you remember? mother used to say i was born with the will to stay blind forever.”

god, apologies for my rant but that literally always comes to mind whenever i think about the carnivorous lamb like how did they get away with just straight up plagiarizing agustín gómez-arcos in that movie lmao? anyway! thanks for sharing your favorite quotes i actually have a couple of these highlighted in my book!

[thefisherqueen]

Review of The Green Knight

As a lover of Arthurian legend and medieval reenactment and a once-upon medieval literature student, the new movie The Green Knight of course was on my to-watch list. Especially after reading qqueenofhades’ excellent essay. I finally watched the movie last week. And I have some Thoughts to share.

There are a lot of things to like about this movie. It was delightfully non-sensational and devoid of GoT-like violence and political power struggles. There was some really beautiful cinematography, partly thanks to the beautiful Irish mountains this movie was shot in. I love that TGK not just adopted, but instead reworked the legend. The main moral themes and outcomes, while not a literal copy, felt authentic to the Christian medieval context of the poem, involving questions around honor, courage, hospitality, greatness, humility and what it means to be a good knight, or even a good person. The movie made it beautifully clear that Gawain’s main problem could have been avoided had he just given the Green Knight a scratch, but because he chose to behead the knight while said knight was lying kneeling and harmless at his feet, there is no escaping from facing the consequence of that action, which is neatly echoed throughout the movie. The green knight, the knight with the green belt and the lord who goes hunting in the green. The lover, the saint and the temptress. What you give, you will receive, and the other way around. The cast was great (too asexual to be thirsty for Dev Patel, though, sorry). The messing up of the mistaken image of medieval europe as just white is also always appreciated. I too liked that the film didn’t care to explain some of the wonders and mysteries, like the giants and the saint who lost her head, they just were accepted as part of that world. Being somewhat puzzled and enchanted is sadly rare in media nowadays where everything has to be explained or else it’s a ‘plot hole’. The liberty this movie takes with time, with multiple possible versions playing out and the reoccuring circular motives were impressive. However, the film as a whole didn’t quite work for me and I don’t really care to rewatch it. I think there are two fundamental reasons why.

The first is that the viewer isn’t given reason to care about the main character. I think this choice is deliberate, as we see Arthur asking Gawain to tell a tale of himself to get to know him, and Gawain replies that he has none, and after Gawain takes on the Green Knight’s challenge as an opportunity to gain a tale for himself. Questions about telling and re-telling tales and achieving greatness are a central theme. However, this narrative choice poses a problem, as it results in a movie where we see Gawain wrestle through difficulties on his quest and he’s this strange identity-less puppet, escaped from the children’s puppet show. We as audience are set up to be detached from him, which makes it hard to root for his success or even his survival, despite how pretty and sad Dev Patel may look in a dirty-and-distressed state. This could have been solved without removing those identity themes by giving Gawain, if not great deeds, at least some establishment of his character at the start of the film. He doesn’t have to be likable, but he has to be something more than a drinker and brawler with a faint sense of wanting to prove himself. That is just not enough to make us attached to Gawain’s wellbeing and involved in the quality of his decision making. The rest of the movie doesn't quite build Gawain’s character either. We get that he’s uncertain and afraid, yes, but his actions remain inconsistent, his motivations unclear. His main character arch - that he needs to give up the protection of the enchanted green belt, needs to face fear and consequences rather than to rely on the treacherous protection of witchcraft - doesn’t come off the ground because we only learn close to the very end that the belt is a problem to the completion of his quest. That’s no arch, that’s an exhausting flat march and a sudden steep slope right before the finish line.   

The second problem ties into the first. Namely, you don’t need a strong emotional tie to the characters if there’s a light tone, an adventure with a side dish of some fun and humor perhaps. This movie, however, is anything but light. It’s dark. It’s grim. It’s cold. It’s wet. There’s exactly zero humor. Above all, it’s slow. So slow. Apart from an emotional connection, you also need a sit-on-the-edge-of-your-seat amount of story tension for this kind of dramatic tone and slow pace to work, and the script just doesn’t build that tension. A shot of Gawain riding through the moor after he leaves his home is just that: the confrontation with the Green Knight is still far away, there’s no looming threat we’re aware of, there’s nothing else to be told or resolved. Together with our emotional detachment it makes for a movie that switches between boring and ridiculously overdramatic, while occasionally looking stunning and taking on deeper questions and parallels. Overall it just makes for a frustrating viewer experience that lacks impact. I was left with a thorough “meh”. Which is a shame, because this movie is very interesting and could have been so good. That clever panning shot showing Gawain as a tied up skeleton should have been devastating. I should have been shouting “No DON”T do that, you IDIOT!” at the screen the moment Gawain scares away his adorable guardian fox. Instead, I couldn’t care less. Come on, Green Knight. Off with his head.    

Some final details to note: erotic movie scenes are normally already awkward, but the scenes in this movie take the usual akwardness next level. At least it’s handled consistently - whether straight or homoerotic, it’s basically all a dissapointment. (That cum shot has scarred my brain forever). Which has its own merit, I guess, but does make for an odd contrast to the camera’s loving, even somewhat objectiving depiction of Dev Patel and the way about every character tenderly touches his face. I’m left wondering what the point was of this choice. It tells something about Gawain’s failure to meet chivalry standards, maybe.  

The scenes which show witchcraft was used to make the Green Knight appear were rather cliché and I don’t think they added anything, as the Christian morality and consequences of relying on witchcraft are already addressed in the theme of the enchanted green belt. Also, it’s frustrating to keep seeing scratched-in runes used as literal magic. As far as our limited knowledge goes, runes were a whole writing system, magical only in the sense that writing something down can have a power of its own. Please, movie makers, think of something original.

Also, torches are terrible for indoor lighting. They burn out quickly and are horribly sooty, so it’s lanterns or candles you want indoors. But the use of the pentacle shown as a common talisman for protection rather than a specific symbol for evil or magic was nice. I’m not equipped to comment much on the choice of costumes and they didn't try to be accurate to a specific historic period and place anyway, but would have loved to see more men in long robes like the beautiful ones they gave king Arthur. Somehow, medieval themed movies only seem to go for the pants and knee-length tunic style for men, while long dress-like garments were in fact very common. Gawain’s beautifully patterned yellow mantle was the brightest point of the entire movie.      

[ntamain]

Is my (24F) neighbour (27F) into me or is she just being friendly? How do I know if she's gay?

another gay gem from the r/relationship reddit

Update:

Image ID under the cut, please let me know if I did it wrong!

[Image ID: four screenshots of a post from the relationship subreddit by tumblr user nta-main. The title reads “Is my (24F) neighbour (27F) into me or is she just being friendly? How do I know if she’s gay?”

The text reads “Update post is now locked, I cant believe so many people were interested in us!! Thank you again for your support, comments and messages.

Hi all, I can't believe I'm asking for advice from a bunch of strangers on the internet but I don't really have anyone I can talk to about this. Sorry for the incoming essay but I guess I need to give history. I bought my first house in September last year, It was an odd time but everything just fell into place. It's quite a small village and everyone is really friendly so I got to know my neighbours soon after moving in - yes, socially distanced. Then I met my over-the-road neighbour, let's call her Elle. I can't describe it but it's the first time I've ever met someone and been lost for words and my heart was racing and just thought "omg", y'know?? So after I blushed my way through a welcome to the village type convo we only saw each other for a wave and hello for a few days.

To help kinda settle in I had my dog (Bea) with me for the first few weeks. During this time there was a massive increase in dog thefts in a nearby town, not just from gardens but literally wrestled away from people. If I'd have been working (furloughed off and on since March) then I would've taken Bea back to mum's but since I was home with her all day she stayed. So the local police advised to not walk dogs alone but we go out twice a day, a 10k run in the morning and a few miles walk in the evening. So obvs this scares me, but at the same time she is honestly a pain in the arse and gets upset if she doesn't go for a run and needs to be tired out so I'm kind of stuck at this point. Then along comes Elle. She knocked on the door and offered to come with us as she'd seen Bea and me in the evenings and everything kind of spiralled from there. I told her about my morning runs but she didn't really bite so I thought nothing of it. Then a few days later I bumped into her on a run, so she started joining us on those too.

A few months later and we are spending more and more time together everyday. It has now progressed to a run early morning, afternoon coffee, dinner most evenings and then the evening walk. It just seemed to happen without me really noticing. I didn't read into things that much as I don't want to get my hopes up and ruin anything until another neighbour commented about how much time we spend together and how "it's nice to see you young gals getting on" and winked. She actually winked at me. I asked her what she meant but she just laughed and said "you know what I mean". So now I'm looking back on things and wondering if she could like me too?

Here's some reasons why she might like me:

I went running along the same route at the same time for nearly 2 weeks before I happened to run into her a few days after I told her this?

I make her a coffee every afternoon (Elle is WFH) and take it over in her fave mug. She says I make good coffee but I'm pretty sure I saw a fancy coffee machine the first time I went round (it's not there now?).

Elle carried on running and walking with me even after Bea went home. I told her she was going back to mum's and she said well "I'll have to make another excuse to join you" and then we just carried on everyday.

She has tried really hard to bond with Bea. Bea is a very anxious dog and is scared of everyone except me and mum. Elle bought special treats to give her everyday and has been so amazing with her and never tried to force anything. When I asked her she said "it's important to me that she likes me and is comfortable". Bea actually fell asleep between us on the sofa yesterday and It just makes my heart skip a beat guys.

She invited me to the zoom quiz she does with her friends every fortnight or so and they were all like "oh so this is who we've heard so much about "

We realised we had become each other's support bubble. Elle asked if I was meeting anyone else and I said no, she said she was glad she had me all to herself (!!)

We gave each other quite personal xmas presents. Like, it actually made me tear up it meant so much to me. And she bought stuff for Bea!!

Reasons why she might not like me:

All the reasons above, but that she's just doing them because she's a fucking great person and we're friends?

It might sound dumb but idk I need your help guys. She is the just the most incredible person I have ever met and I really really like her but if she isn't gay or doesn't feel the same I don't want to lose her friendship as she has become such a huge part of my life. I genuinely have no experience with these kind of things as I went to quite a strict all girls school, so it's not as if there were any relationships around me as a teen and then I went to a very small uni (8 of us on my course). I guess another reason is that I've struggled with anxiety and depression for the past 10 years, as well as my weight and working on my self confidence, but I can say that right now I am the happiest and healthiest (both mentally and physically) I have ever been. I've only just really become comfortable with the fact that I'm gay and I have never really told anyone in real life, but I don't think people would be too surprised lol. I don't have any close friends as no one stuck around when I was really struggling with my MH a few years ago so I can't discuss this with anyone irl.

So I need your advice : how do I find out if she is gay? And no, I don't have the confidence to just ask!! What if she says no and I ruin everything? She has never mentioned anything about past relationships and I'm pretty tactless so not sure how I could naturally slip it into the convo. Like, "hey tell me have you ever had a girlfriend? Do you want one now?" Lol. And how can I make a move without really making a move so I don't ruin things??

tl;dr : Don't know whether my neighbour is gay and into me or is just really friendly. How can I make a move without ruining our friendship?

Edit: Ok guys, thank you so so much for all your support and encouragement. You've all given me a lot to think about. I think I'm going to casually slip some gay stuff into conversation and see how she reacts. Then bring up the neighbours comment like some of you suggested, seeing as tho the neighbour was heavily implying that we're gay. I'll do it tonight otherwise I'll talk myself out of it again. I will post an update to let you know what happens (eek). If you never hear from me again assume it went badly and I am consoling myself with cake and watching brokeback mountain in floods of tears.

Hi reddit, yes it's me the useless lesbian. First off I want to thank you all for your support, encouragement and advice - and the undeserved awards! I never expected this many of you to take the time to comment and that so many of you were rooting for us.

So I had the plan to drop these gay hints into convo like you guys suggested but honestly it all went out the window. Elle was kinda stressed friday after a shitty work zoom and just needed to vent so it wasnt the right time to start anything. Though I guess I must have been a bit off thanks to spending all day overthinking things on here, as Elle turned up Saturday morning rambling about stressing me out and apologised (!!) for ruining dinner. Obvs I said "what are you talking about you can talk to me about anything", and she said "anything?" and I said "anything" back. And guys the tension was unreal, staring at each other and hoping our lesbian mind reading powers would kick in.

Then there was some loud noise like a car backfiring or something and the moment went. So I went to make coffee and then Elle asked me why I was a bit quiet the night before and I said something about overthinking stuff and she said "what stuff" and idk you guys I wasnt prepared to be put on the spot my casual gay pop culture references were useless in this moment. My mind just went completely blank and I forgot every single thing you guys suggested and my heart was pounding and I just blurted out you know I like you, right?.

...And then she kissed me. Kissed me. We straight up just snogged in the kitchen and it was fucking great. So...you were right. You were all fucking right. She's gay, she likes me and has been trying to drop hints for nearly 5 months. sigh

We were both just too scared to make a move or ruin anything. Turns out she's been burned by straight girls in the past, so she's pretty wary and was hoping I'd straight up say I'm a lesbian so she'd know for sure - maybe the I'm a lesbian wall hanging would've been a good idea after all? Her friends have been helping her drop hints, she showed me the group chat and guys their suggestions ranged from flirting more to just turning up in a trenchcoat and nothing else lol. Also, the winking neighbour has been making comments to her as well, so shout out to her for trying to make this happen too.

So no cake and cry watching brokeback mountain, just 5 months of dating to catch up on. As for worrying about how our current schedule could be more date like during lockdown, you were right it's kinda irrelevant when you've essentially been dating the whole time. Though we never made it to our morning run yesterday, in fact we didn't leave the house at all, ha.

Thank you guys for giving me hope, even if all your suggestions completely disappeared in the moment. Maybe I'll show her the post later and ask if any of the suggestions would have worked.

tl;dr: she's gay, into me and I'm an idiot”

End image ID]

[omegatheunknown]

AEW ALL OUT 2021

In which, not to get ahead of myself here, AEW puts on one of the best major wrestling shows in several years*, following the simple yet effective principle of giving the people what they want and sending everyone home happy and hungry for more.

- The incredibly 'Nitro' ending of the go-home Dynamite, which ran a little long on the 'heels beat everyone up and strut around like assholes almost too in desperate need of comeuppance' bit, short of garbage raining into the ring, did actually increase the heat for both promoted matches. Again, not rocket science, but executed perfectly. Catharsis was on the card, and catharsis went over several times Sunday. - Again, it's time to move on from the Casino theme, shuffling the deck and drawing suits really only detracted from the Battle Royale and seemingly always throws the production crew a curve. If they haven't hammered it by now, it's not going to happen. - Bit unhappy about the PAC/Andrade situation, but still over the moon with Andrade's promo style and Chavito being unhelpful at best.

*Pre-Card

Best Friends and Jurassic Express v The Hardy Family Office and The Hybrid 2 (**) - Not usually much to say about a loaded-up multiteam boondoggle, particularly when the show has yet to begin, but there were some moments worth sitting up to take notice -- there's a lot of talent in the ring, even if Jack Evans/Angelico aren't going to be more than mid-level mooks, little matchups with guys like Luchasaurus and Chuck Taylor are opportunities for innovative/weird spots. - Really this match exists to show-off Jungle Boy, play his theme song twice, and work him in to the aforementioned spots. I don't rightly know what Jungle Jack's ceiling is, but it sort of feels like he's plateauing, at least this version of himself. - Dan Lambert thing is interesting in that it doesn't seem to easily lead to something obvious... I mean who are Scorp and Ethan Page feuding with by proxy here, the concept of contemporary professional wrestling? Orange Cassidy and Kenny Omega?

*Main Card

Miro (C) v Eddie Kingston for the TNT Championship (***1/2) - 'Redeem Deez Nuts' T-shirts now available -- and made immediately redundant now that Miro has graciously redeemed Eddie's nuts. - Imagine looking at Miro, listening to Miro talk, and not really being able to figure out this guy is money. Also imagine panicking when he took a little while to find his groove in AEW. 'The Redeemer' is both entertaining and terrifying, and this match delivered heavily on the promise of two big fellas smacking together repeatedly. - Not only does Eddie's arsenal of power moves target Miro's neck, he may also be quite difficult to put in the full reclined camel clutch. Or he'd quite literally snap in half. It didn't come to that. - Weird heel turn by Bryce's attention span and the overall weirdness of the finish is all that kept this from being an excellent match, otherwise this was a tremendous curtain jerker and started off a dangerously fun run of pure adrenaline.

Jon Moxley v Satoshi Kojima (****) - The stakes were nebulous, the build was abrupt, yet this was a fantastic match and tremendous showcase for an underappreciated great who has been more or less just toiling for a bunch of years as a NJPW Dad. Same deal for Nagata, and I assume Tenzan is the same, Taka Michinoku even -- let's see it. - I have to assume the Cozy Lariat might have put Mox down, but Kojima otherwise played the hits (Koji Cutter, Piledriver, Brainbustaaaa) in a big way and Moxley once again proved he's become a very well-rounded wrestler who can match the intensity of just about any former IWGP champion. - More to the point-- KAZE NI NARE -- out of nowhere, too. Or out of nowhere to those not paying attention to the whereabouts of Minoru Suzuki (Right, he's just over here to fight Daniel Garcia and not Mox?), which I guess is to my own peril. Wow, though. Surprise Number 1- a complete surprise, and a welcome one. Let's have it.

Dr Britt Baker, DMD (C) v Kris Statlander for the AEW Women's Championship (****) - I love Kris and her best friends but she didn't have a prayer of dethroning Britt. She got one promo, several weeks ago, and though she did make a meal of Hayter and Rebel, the chase has been abrupt and not given much discussion, other than Mark Henry and whomever else acknowledging what is extremely evident -- Statlander is stronger than she looks, and she looks really strong. They've got her doing Cesaro-level 'modify your grip while holding your opponent's entire weight' nonsense, and it's amazing and scary. - Even with the reign of the good doctor not being credibly threatened, this was an excellent match that demonstrated the continued growth of the competitors in the women's division, even as it underlined that their storylines remain undercooked and perfunctory: Orange Cassidy whipping off his shades to urge Stat to get up was a beautiful moment. Britt's Panama Sunrise, also, too sweet. Statlander eating shit on her 451 and her pendulum moonsault was properly brutal, as were Britt's curb stomps. Really great match between these two. - Again, if they had bothered to write anything into this story, such as Kris' alien physiology making her immune to the lockjaw or something... actually, maybe that's a terrible idea. it's an idea. Undefeated challenger is defeated, on to the next for Dr Britt. Statlander and OC should tag against some of the boys.

The Young Bucks (C) v The Lucha Bros for the AEW World Tag Team Championship(*****+) - Can't not mention the insane entrance lined up for Fenix and Penta. It was bewildering, it was enchanting, it was aggressive, it was hype. It also reminded everybody how very badly we all wanted the Lucha Bros to win. The crowd has been setting new peaks with their volume since Punk showed up, but things were absolutely thunderous and ecstatic at the end of this match. Absolutely valid response. I yelled on the couch. - Nick's facial hair was a bigger tell that it was time for the Bucks to lose than anything else about this build. There's literally nowhere to go from there -- they've done the hair, the bandanas, the kicks, the animal print, the dangly earrings -- peak visual heel for this time and place. - Sincerely thought this was going to be too much of a full sprint spot-fest (the PWG-esque circle of trading blows is not really 'my thing') but even so they kept finding gears, and ramping and ramping and adding blood and brutality along the way. Even a bit of levity, with the tacked up sneaker, followed by the sincerity of Penta throwing himself in harm's way to protect his brother. Immense match, I think you'd have to go back to the Bucks vs the Addiction and MCMGs Ladder War to find a more thrilling tag team gimmick match. - If there's a single flaw to be found it's in the production not really settling on wide angles for simultaneous action at the start of the match. They figured it out. - Rey Fenix is the best luchador in the world.

Women's Casino Battle Royale (**1/2) - If nothing else, this really shows off that they now have a surplus of women's wrestlers who deserve time to hang in the ring. Unsurprisingly, the match picked right up when Thunder Rosa and then Jamie Hayter got to the ring, with additional props to Tay Conti and Jade Cargill, who was dumped rather unceremoniously given her general booking... - Okay, there was something else. Welcome to the rechristened Ruby Soho, who I've not seen a lot of outside of her extremely limited showcase in WWE, but she has so many friends in the back and in the industry and that's never for nothing, not in wrestling, anyway. Intrigued to see where she fits, and if the women ever get more than a match per show. - Touched on this in the preamble but this was the roughest part of the night for the home viewer, just weird decisions on cutting away from various entrances to show... nothing in particular happening. Also while the commitment to not-kayfabing the countdown clock is... admirable? It makes the pacing hinky. - Almost everyone who got new gear for tonight was looking like the white ranger -- Nyla, Swole, Bunny, someone I'm missing. Except Anna Jay, whose stars and glitter gear looked great.

MJF v Chris Jericho for the fate of Jericho's in-ring career (***) - MJF's unauthorized homage to Y2J's entrance: good. Fozzy's guitarist going off tempo with the instrumental Judas: weak, and would've been sad if this were the end for Jericho. Especially as the build has felt... muted, somehow. - Props to the commentary for continuing to feed the red herring of 'in AEW,' as a caveat to stipulation, it did feel like... a remote possibility that MJF would win. - Credit to Aubrey for calling this one down the middle and not putting the fix in for her friend Jericho, and I guess the Dusty finish will give MJF plenty to gripe about. - MJF wrestles with a pure heel style, holds, chops, blocks, and Jericho is fifty years old, so the level of wrestling on exhibition in these matches is well beside the point. It was solid to good, and I was fighting burn out from the first half of the card's level of excitement.

CM Punk v Darby Allin (***1/2) - There are a couple benefits of Darby as a dance partner, and it's certainly better than having to watch Punk return against like, QT Marshall or Shawn Spears. Darby does make everyone look slow, but he can also be tossed around, and this raises his profile even in defeat, obviously. That said, the stakes here are... meta, at best, in that we want to see the man look good and justify the hype. It's a weird thing to root for. He certainly does look good. (Tights? Tights!) - It's fun to theorize about actually booking an angle where Punk is rusty and needs to regain his prowess, and maybe he'll stumble, but maybe the most we get out of that angle is hitting the GTS a little close to the ropes so Darby falls right out of the ring, in what was, for me, the spot that justified this whole match. - Sting's proud step-dad aura is still a hell of a thing, I really liked the end of the match kudos all around. - Match was good, hard to hang my emotions on. I wasn't watching WWE when Punk was in WWE. Definitely feeding off the excitement of others a bit here, and he sure can talk. I'd like to see him cultivate a stable, certainly.

Paul Wight v QT Marshall (n/r) - ...popcorn match? QT Marshall is like the anti-Daniel Garcia in that while his prominence and presence is just as inexplicable, I don't want it to continue, and he doesn't justify it in the process. - Match was two minutes longer than it needed to be.

Kenny Omega (c) v Christian Cage for the AEW World Championship (****1/2) - Crowd was both burnt out and more or less waiting for the post-match angle. Which I get. it's hard to cruise to the main event and having seen all the different things we've already seen on this card, even a singular performer like Kenny Omega and a legend with whom he (surprisingly? fittingly?) has superb chemistry with in Christian Cage were up against it to deliver something memorable. - Context dependent, I can definitely see rating this below their Rampage match, especially since... I mean Christian isn't winning the AEW title off Kenny at this or probably any other event. - But! It was really good! It was very good! They really do match-up well, and Kenny's v-trigger has rarely looked more devastating than when it knocks Christian flat. Christian got cut open in a novel and initially worrying way, and Kenny followed up a botched moonsault with a harder version of the same move off a rail, but it was a really great match and it deserved more energy than was available.

Post-Show - Calling back and inverting the end of Dynamite, The Elite strut about the ring, slightly less stoked than they were on Wednesday, but with the Bucks smiling through the pain, and Jungle Boy once again subjected to violence for his misguided heroism, Kenny 'not much a promo' Omega lays down a killer line about nobody being fit to challenge him who isn't unavailable, already tired or dead. - The Undertaker ADAM COLE, BAY BAY as Surprise #3 was a minor stroke of brilliance, and a fun swerve because while it's exciting to see him, his appearance at this point in the narrative does nothing to solve the problem of The Elite beating up Christian and Jungle Boy. Unless he's still sore about his unsolved murder, which he isn't. Storytime with Adam Cole is back and it's beautiful. Also Jungle Boy died for this. - Okay. But. Just. Okay. CM Punk and Bryan Danielson are All Elite. They will hopefully tag together. Bryan will head to NJPW, almost definitely. Minoru Suzuki just walked in and started slugging on Mox. The Forbidden Door is wide open. Will Kenny Omega one day return to Wrestle Kingdom? There are so many possibilities and they are all very exciting. This was a phenomenal show and it didn't have Hangman Page, Cody Rhodes, FTR, Santana and Ortiz, PAC, Andrade, Sammy Guevara, Team Taz, and the rest.

- Wrestling is good, actually. Imagine watching like five hours of wrestling and loving wrestling at the end of it.

*What competes- WK11, Dominion 2018, 2019, DoN 2019, 2021.. All-In, probably. Wrestlemania 30. A few Takeovers. Kris Wolf's retirement show...

[lampmeeting]

got roundaboutly tagged by @agaricales​ :D thank youuuu! hope you don’t mind that i stole your little idea to draw myself and my shitty hair hahah :3 i almost never draw myself so this was a nice reason

Questions to get to know you a little better:

1. What do you prefer to be called name wise? Kelly’s my actual name, but I also go by Murphy and I have zero preference which you use (also shortened versions of either like Kel or Murph are also lovely) :D and it makes me giggle when people call me Lamp hehe

2. When is your birthday? Nov. 5th!

3. Where do you live? Austin, Texas

4. Three things I am doing right now? Fixing to watch Hannibal, drinking root beer, being kept company by my tiny kitty Lib

5. Four fandoms that have piqued my interest: Well, Metalocalypse of course. Hannibal is a new one I’m dipping my toe into. Don’t think I’ll do any art or fic, but I’ve been loving what I’ve seen and read so far. Detroit: Become Human was a huge one for me and I still love checking in on the fandom from time to time and getting nostalgic. Also tonight’s news activated my Mass Effect lust. Give to me all the hot aliens.

6. How has the pandemic been treating you? Uhhhhhhh yeah not great. 8)

7. Song(s) I can’t stop listening to: “Rule of Nines” by Spiritbox, her VOICE!!!!

8. Recommend a movie: Darren Aronofsky‘s The Fountain, this movie just Speaks to me like nothing else ever really has. I remember leaving the theatre feeling like I had been irreparably changed, and one of the friends I was with was like “well that was fucking stupid” and I was like hmmm :) really now :) and then like the next month we weren’t friends anymore kjgkdfgf funny how that happened

9. How old are you? 35... stick a fork in me, I’m done ;0;

10. School, university, occupation? Um none of the above? lmao covid took my job, know anyone who’s hiring at-home receptionists? dkfgdk I keep thinking I could go back to retail but we’re not in dire enough straits for that yet.

11. Do you prefer heat or cold? Cold usually but it depends. I like feeling warm but I HATE feeling hot and it’s a fine line.

12. Name one fact others may not know about you? Actually I think probably quite a few people know this, but I suck really bad at coming up with random facts about myself - I’m a wrestling nerd. Fucking love wrestling. I’ve been to dozens of shows, Raw, Smackdown, NXT, Ring of Honor a handful of times, and a few local shows because my brother’s old high school friend is a local indie wrestler. My favorite guy in the business right now is Hangman Adam Page (and yes, it’s partially because he’s fucking gorgeous)

13. Are you shy? Depends. There’s a lot of things I’m totally fine with doing and it can fool people into thinking I’m almost extroverted, but then like phone calls and knocks on the door literally break me out in a sweat and make my hands shake, and if I hang out with people I need like a week to recover, so... lmao

14. Preferred pronouns: she/her

15. Biggest pet peeves: this is an IRL thing, but I have some audio processing shit going on, and then on top of that I fucked up my hearing in my right ear a bit at a Devin Townsend show a few years back (worth it? yes) and sometimes people’s voices can sound muddled if there’s other noises happening too. So it MAKES ME REAL MAD when people who KNOW THIS ABOUT ME will just go “no never mind it’s not important” when I ask them to repeat themselves.

16. What is your favorite "dere" type? Had to look some up and oh noooooo it’s a toss-up :O

The Hinedere (ひねデレ) type refers to characters who have cynical world views, are cold-hearted, and highly arrogant. However, deep down they have a soft side that may reveal itself after their love interest breaks through. (SOUND FAMILIAR LMAO)

The Byoukidere (病気デレ) type refers to a character who is kind and gentle at heart but has a serious illness. They might be confined to a hospital bed, or just simply weak and frail. (OH NO.... ;0;)

17. Rate your life 1-10? maybe a 6? 6.5?

18. What is your main blog? @gatsbygal​ it runs on a queue right now when i remember to fill it (I’m here too often to remember it hahah, but yeah if you wanna go look thru all my old bad art go right ahead)

19. List all your side blogs and what they’re for: ABSOLUTELY NOT LMAO i will admit to having a victor zsasz-related sideblog, a blog about a long-time fic i was writing where i’d answer reader’s questions and stuff, but uhhhhhh i have a few others that get to stay secret

20. Is there anything people should know before becoming friends with you? I’ve had people tell me I seemed intimidating at first and this has to be a problem with how I present myself online because people I know IRL consider me somewhere between a cupcake and an overcooked noodle :O maybe I say too many fuckworks and use too many exclamation marks or something haahha but I swear I’m not even remotely cool

[sweetrupturedlight]

This week on Sen Çal Kapımı

We pick up exactly where we left off and there’s copious hand-holding, cuddles, kisses (see: cheek, lips and eskimo), giggles, a coffee date, breakfast date, dinner date, adorable banter, shameless flirting and no concept of personal space. Oh, and Serkan’s heart eyes continuously devour Eda with expert precision.

Before we jump right into it, let’s review last week’s bulleted list of things I expected was coming. 

From the fragman, Serkan names a star or something after her #squee

Selin finally getting it

Aydan not getting it

Seyfi being over the moon - along with Melo no doubt

I’m 3.5/4. But come on, we know Melo loves her bro-in-law right?

Now, onto this week. Seeing Serkan clearly in love - and embracing it - is delightful to watch. The natural chemistry between Hande and Kerem have the room to shine brightly as the script allows them to dial the romance setting to ‘roast’. Serkan’s growth as a character is never more evident. The surly, stern taskmaster of old is replaced by a smiling (spontaneously), belly laughing, and downright playful young man in love. And its just squee inducing to watch. When he confesses to Eda that she is addictive, I thought his mood (and how Kerem plays Serkan) clearly demonstrates the effect that the emotion has on him - of being unable to focus, feeling light, happy, carefree and confident. 

Throughout the romantic comedy, there is an underlying ripple of vulnerability. I love that the show doesn’t take for granted that Serkan has never been in love - and that being in love and confessing it - especially to a woman he didn’t believe could love him back - is also scary. Numerous times throughout the episode he asks for confirmation that she returns his affection. While its played as lighthearted banter - and provides ample opportunity for us to smile like idiots as they flirt outrageously - it’s also a reminder that he is a loner by nature and putting himself at the mercy of someone else cannot be easy. His concern that she will tire of him was adorable but also tinged with anxiety. She is a fairy to him - whimsical and carefree - and he must worry a little that someday, she will fly away without him. That said, he’s jumped all in. For a man who’s never really cared for romantic entanglements, he sure learns fast… as Eda says, he is a romantic robot, with a fierce beating heart.

Finally, I love that Eda’s education is important to her - but its also something Serkan recognises and supports. Their two-month deal is a postponement, not a cancellation of her plans. It’s not her putting him first and disadvantaging herself. Its an opportunity for them to get to know each other, spend time together, for him to wrap up pressing business matters and organise himself around a move to Italy to support the woman he loves as she pursues her interests and education. That’s fantastic! I love that its not an issue. He didn’t try and convince her to study in Turkey. Her dream is Italy. So he will rearrange his life in order to support her. That’s a partnership and I love to see it.

Things I loved about this episode:

All he handholding. Listen, I’m a simple shipper. Give me the basics, and I’m in hog heaven

The lack of personal space. They literally breathe the same air 99% of the time. It’s romantic, endearing and also more than a little blush-inducing??? Or is it just me? The breakfast scene was one of my favourites for this very reason.

Despite prompting Eda to confess her feelings, Serkan’s confessions kept escalating. He goes from I love you, to all I see is you, to I want to hug you, hold you, kiss you, I’m addicted to you, I can’t think/work with you around. Adorable.

Eda fixing Serkan’s collar. A small moment, but reminded me of her unbuttoning his shirt in the stairwell during the first episode. How far they’ve come.

The simplicity of framing them in each other’s arms on a couch was a fantastic way of showcasing their domesticity as well as highlighting their chemistry. I also loved Serkan in that brown shirt? It was a great wardrobe choice to highlight his downtime.

Things that confused me:

Ayfer’s continued “anti-Serkan” agenda. It remains puzzling. It’s completely incongruent with her previous assessment of him. So this plot point continues to feel a little shoehorned and forced in order to move us towards a storytelling arc.

Hiding their romance was fun this episode. But hopefully, everything is out in the open next week. They deserve a little normal after all the crazy of the weeks that came before. Sneaking around now just feels too over the top for a sustained plot point.

Alptekin and Aydan truly annoy me. Serkan’s father is apparently a man who built a successful company. Yet everything about him screams inept to me. Both his wife and son are unhappy with his conduct, his business decisions don’t seem very sound (at least from Serkan’s perspective) and the elephant in the room - his previous undesirable business practices. Aydan continues the “Choose Selin” crusade when doing that would hurt a myriad of people - including Ferit and Eda. It’s selfish and lacks any awareness of what is going on around her. Perhaps that is the meta-commentary on her character, seeing as she is unable to leave her self imposed prison. Get them both out of here. Please and thank you.

Engin’s romance? Honestly, I don’t care at all. He has no chemistry with Piril and call me salty, but did the camera linger on their kiss longer than any other on the show? Maybe I am just being salty. Moving along.

Low key confused about how sad I felt for Selin? She isn’t my fave, and yes, Ferit deserves more than a woman who literally planned to dump him 0.5 seconds before their wedding day, but I guess she realised that the love of a man who adores her is a better choice than chasing a pipedream. Plus, the humiliation of being dumped at the alter… how does one recover. Not sure what her character brings to the show now seeing as her connection was through Ferit. So we’ll see...

Urm… who else is low key rooting for Ferit and Ceren? Didn’t see that one coming, but at least it’s an exciting development.

Things I know is coming:

Some third-party, potential romantic interest for Eda? Don’t see how this will work because she only has eyes for Serkan. So perhaps “romance” isn’t the direction it will take… one can only hope.

The Bolat’s trying to break up Eda and Serkan? Not sure why that’s necessary. Serkan certainly had nothing to do with - nor any knowledge of - his fathers aforementioned undesirable business practices. While I have no doubt this will create tension, I hope to God they don’t tell Serkan and have him wrestle with how to tell Eda and in doing so, create secrets and distance between them.

Eda tells either Ayfer or her besties that she and Serkan are in love. #HereForIt

“I can’t breathe when you’re not here” !!! #CallTheParamedic

And most importantly:

Seyfi remains my absolute fave.

Do they have an overnight stay next week? Because… it sure looked like it. 

#FlingsSelfIntoTheEverLovingSun #NotPrepared

[angstyaches]

Here We Go

CW: violence, threat of serious injury, manhandling, choking, loss of control, supernatural activity, swearing. Definitely more whumpy/angsty than sickfic, since that’s the mood I’m in lately. Basically, it’s a Whole Mess and at this point, and I’m just gonna own it.

Head tilt to a prompt from @mxnsterparty about Charlie overhearing Shayne saying some cold things about him to Elliott. (I might still use the prompt again or expand upon it at a later time!)

Swallow the World: Ouija Board Pt. 10

“Relax, darling.” Felix looked over from the passenger seat, eyes flicking up and down as his boyfriend sat across from him like a clenched muscle. “What’s the matter with you?”

Elliott shook his head. Elliott didn’t know. The energy humming in his body was so intense, it was causing an almost electrical-sounding whir inside his ears. He’d woken up feeling light-headed and nauseous in their hotel room, but had managed to avoid letting Felix know anything was wrong. Until just now, apparently.

It was his hands, probably, that gave him away. They still clutched the steering wheel even though the car was stopped. His knuckles were very literally beginning to turn white. He unclenched his grip, one wrist clicking as he slid his hands into his lap.

“You look a little flushed.” Felix laid a hand on his thigh, turning slightly in his seat. “It’s going to be okay, just –”

The front door of the house flew open and shut, and Shayne stormed into the driveway somewhere between those movements.

“Oh, I don’t fucking think so!” he shouted. “No fucking fly zone, assholes!”

“Lord,” Elliott growled, clenching his fingers against his knees. 

“Here we go,” Felix sang under his breath.

Elliott heaved a sigh as he shoved open the driver’s side door and stepped onto the loose gravel. “Seriously, Shayne, do we have to do this again?”

“Madelyn and Watson don’t even come around here. Same goes for you,” Shayne said as they met halfway between the car and the front door of the house. He lifted a hand to point towards Felix, who hadn’t gotten out of the car yet. “And your little friend.”

“Shayne, I spoke to Ryan on the phone last night.”

“And why would I give a shit –?”

“Because,” Elliott sighed, contemplating - just for a second - the possibility of blacking out right then and there. “She said you can come back with us.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It – it means what it sounds like, man,” Elliott explained as calmly as he could while fire seemed to gnaw at the marrow of his bones. “You can come stay at the Aldridge townhouse. For a while, at least, until you decide what you want to do long-term.”

The confusion on Shayne’s face was shot through with a sickly paleness. “Wh-why would I..?”

“Because,” Elliott said, almost reaching out to put his hands on Shayne’s shoulders. He pulled them back at the last second, flinching internally as the boy took a step back. “You were partially right yesterday, Shayne. The Devines know you’ve been hoarding demons from this patch of forest. As far as Ryan knows, they don’t know why. As in, they don’t know about your friend being possessed.”

“Friend?” Shayne spat, voice trembling as it rose. “You think I’m stupid like you, that I go around letting myself get attached to people, fucking up their lives?”

“Don’t,” Elliott snarled, heat gathering in his cheeks and in the roots of his teeth. The restless energy was starting to itch under his skin. His lips began to dampen, gums tingling as his fangs crept downwards.

“You seriously think I would be anywhere near this god-damned place if I didn’t have to be? If there was anybody else who would do it?” Shayne yelled.

“Seriously, Shayne, stop,” Elliott said warily, noticing through the whirring fog in his head that the door to the house was opening again, this time a lot more slowly.

“You think I’d actually make friends with someone like Charlie? I don’t have friends, Elliott, I have a fucking job.”

“Hey,” Elliott murmured, reaching out to shove his hand against Shayne’s shoulder. “Shut the hell up, man. Your friend can probably hear –”

“How would it even work?” Shayne demanded. “Madelyn and Watson practically breathe down my neck, no matter where I go.”

“You don’t have to worry about Madelyn and Watson,” Elliott explained. “If there’s any trouble, Nancy will sort them out. You – you can finish studying, and travel back here for your exams when they start –”

“No,” Shayne spat. “This sounds like – you think I want to be a disgusting bloodsucker like you some day? Like him?”

He pointed towards the car, towards Felix. Rage curdled in Elliott’s veins, his lips dampening as his fangs began to creep down from his gums.

“Leave Felix out of this, man,” Elliott warned. “If it weren’t for him, I’d have left you and your friends stranded yesterday, so show a bit of respect –”

“Respect?” It was barely a whisper, and yet from the look on his face, it seemed as though Shayne had just vomited. “That’s – that’s all you people care about, isn’t it? Empty words. You shout respect when you don’t give a shit about other people. I bet you even use the word love, don’t you? But how can you love someone, Elliott, when there’s absolutely nothing going on…”

Shayne drew a shaking finger up towards Elliott’s chest, eyes glued on it as he stopped it just an inch away from touching him, from feeling the point where his heart was working at half the pace of a living human. Faint red patches began to distort the peripherals of Elliott’s vision.

“…in here?”

Elliott snatched Shayne’s hand out of the air, twisting his wrist in a sharp motion that made the boy wince. He also grabbed a fistful of the front of his hoodie, dragging him forward slightly. There was a ringing in Elliott’s ears that reminded him of cymbals crashing together.

“Touched a nerve, huh?” Shayne asked. “Do you tell him you love him anyway? Does it make you feel better to lie?”

“I’m gonna give you five seconds to apologise, and tell me you’re going to shut up and listen.”

Shayne closed his eyes, breaking into a slight grin as Elliott wrenched on his wrist again, twisting it out from his arm.

“Well?”

“Fuck you.”

Elliott swung him by the arm and threw him against the bonnet of the car. The irrational anger snapped at his heels and the back of his neck like a pack of dogs closing in, attempting to tear him apart while also urging him on.

The car rocked, causing Felix to jump in the passenger seat. His golden eyes turned cold through the windscreen, holding Elliott’s gaze as he shoved open the door and let himself out.

___

“Shayne!” Charlie cried out, and he started to run across the gravel. What’s the plan, exactly? He gritted his teeth at Charlie Two’s question. Of course there was no plan. What kind of plan could a boy possibly have, rushing towards a clearly unstable vampire?

“No, no, no, no, no,” Felix muttered, shooting forward to intercept him. The mint-haired vampire was shorter and even slimmer than Charlie was, but the muscles in his arms seemed to turn into stone as soon as he shoved himself at Charlie, wrestling him back from the car.

“He’s – he’s gonna hurt him,” Charlie whimpered.

“No, he’s not. But he’s gonna hurt you, if you try something, bud.” Felix glanced over his shoulder, his grip on Charlie trembling a bit. “From what he’s told me, this – this is fairly standard for these two. They don’t exactly get along.”

“Oh, you think?” Charlie snapped, recoiling a bit at the snap of sarcasm in his own voice. Who are we? Shayne?

___

Elliott twisted Shayne’s arm against his back, not leaning hard enough to hurt him, but enough to keep him from wriggling. The rage licked at his vision, heightening when he heard a sound that was halfway between a cough and a laugh, and a single breathy word;

“Asshole.”

Blood-red flashed across Elliott’s vision and he leaned harder on his arm. “You want to say that again?”

That drew out a long wince, as Shayne tried to twist his body to accommodate the new pressure on his shoulder. “That you’re an asshole? I’ll never get tired of saying that, El.”

Elliott leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of Shayne’s hair, adrenaline coursing through him as he pulled him up from the bonnet. The sensation, the rush of power, was so intense that he hesitated a moment, undecided about what to do with him next.

All he could see was something in his grasp that he could perceive as weak, weaker than he was.

A thing that didn’t know its place in the order of things.

A thing he could easily rip apart, sink his teeth into, and drain until it was nothing more impressive or useful than a pile of sodden leaves.

All he heard was the rushing sound in his ears, and a broken whisper.

“Just fucking do it.”

Elliott blinked and broke through the hot, red fog for a moment, loosening the fingers that were gripping Shayne’s hair, and yanked him around by his shoulder. Thin streaks of tears had already marked the boy’s face, but those weren’t what sent Elliott right over the edge. He snatched his cousin up again, muscles clenching powerfully as he dragged him up onto the balls of his feet, fingers crushing into the soft flesh of his neck and throat.

“The hell did you just say to me, man?”

Shayne didn’t even lift his hands to try to pry Elliott’s hand away, and that just made the anger run even deeper. He made a choking sound before forcing the words out.

“I said do it, asshole.”

___

Felix felt Charlie’s weight sink heavily against him, and he struggled to keep them both upright. He was desperately blinking back tears as he watched the scene unfold, unable to recognise the Elliott who was practically ablaze with white-hot anger. He was generally quick to jump on a fight, and he’d assured Felix that things tended to get heated between him and Shayne, since Shayne enjoyed stirring him up for the fun of it. 

But this wasn’t fun, and Felix was having a hard time convincing himself to keep a hold of Charlie, to keep believing that Elliott, his Elliott, would come to his senses before he did anything drastic, but… 

But then the colour started to drain from Shayne’s face, and Elliott continued to lift him higher off the ground. 

A soft clattering sound began to overwhelm Felix’s ears, and it took him a slow moment to realise that the sound was coming from below them, from between the layers of gravel in the driveway. He’d have said it was an earthquake, if earthquakes were known to happen in this part of the world, but they simply weren’t. The stones were moving all by themselves, or at least… they were moving.

“Felix,” Charlie murmured. “Get back from me, now.”

His hands trembled as he let go of Charlie’s arms, and he practically fell over as he moved away, scrambling for balance and turning around to see…

“What on earth?” he gasped.

___

“What’s wrong with you, man?” Elliott hissed, feeling his fangs begin to scrape against the flesh of his chin, heat gathering behind his eyeballs. He licked theatrically at his lips, unable to stop the threatening gesture before the need took hold of him. Shayne squeezed his eyes shut rather than let Elliott see them roll back, and finally, finally, his hands began to grab at Elliott’s arms, and something like relief trickled down through the hot tar filling Elliott’s head.

Good.

“Elliott!” Felix yelled, hard enough to make Elliott finally turn his head.

The red seemed to touch everything but Felix, who was like a cool oasis in a scorching desert. Elliott had to drag his mind forward out of the rage like it was a chest laden down with rocks that he had to pull out of a burning building before it collapsed. Colour began to return to the world in patches, the first being the wine-red paint of his car, though it wasn’t sitting where it should.

Fear became a spike in Elliott’s gut.

It was as though an invisible crane had hooked the back end of the car and hoisted it up out of the gravelled driveway, so that the bonnet was dangling almost two metres from the ground. Only there was no such crane, of course. The gravel from the driveway was also being dragged up into the air, falling in reverse and in slow motion.

Elliott wondered blankly if he was so deprived of blood that he was hallucinating, but that was when more colour seeped back into the scene and he was able to focus on the blonde boy standing in the driveway.

Or at least, this creature had been a boy last time he’d checked.

This was… something else. Something that had eyes and arms, sure, but Elliott couldn’t quite put any combination of words together in his mind to describe it. His eyes couldn’t settle on it for too long before darting away in awe and fear.

When it spoke, it spoke right into the hollow of his chest, it seemed.

“PUT HIM DOWN.”

Elliott leapt back from Shayne, hands jerking to his sides as his skin prickled all over. The dark-haired boy fell to his knees by Elliott’s feet and clutched at his throat before doubling over, lowering his head to the ground too.

The car was lowered gently until it had a few inches to go, and then slammed down with a crash; a dozen or so pieces of gravel clattered down over the roof and the windscreen. Intentionally, perhaps.

“Shit,” Elliott whispered, staggering and then dropping to his own knees. The buzzing rage had given way too a feverish trembling, coupled with guilt so intense that it came with nausea. He felt his fangs retract harshly, pressing into his aching gums. “Shayne, are you okay? I-I don’t – I couldn’t –”

“Asshole,” the boy hissed, lifting his head slightly.

The retort stung slightly, before Elliott’s head swam all the back into focus and he realised what he’d done. His hands fluttered by his sides, and breathing became difficult, like the air was full of sand.

“Elli,” Felix said gently.

Elliott jumped and looked up from the ground, to where his boyfriend stood about ten feet back from him, as though he was unwilling to get any closer to him. Elliott felt a twist in his gut, and he tucked his hands into his armpits, afraid, so afraid, of what his body might make him do if he didn’t keep it under control.

“Fee,” he croaked. “I-I didn’t -”

The crunching of gravel accompanied Charlie as he sprinted over and practically threw himself over Shayne. Elliott scrambled back, trembling inside and wondering how this boy could have looked so… so different, so unnatural and abjectly horrifying.

The embrace lasted a total of two seconds before Shayne was shoving the blonde boy away, and Elliott sank even further back from the scene to avoid being shoved or tripped over.

“Get away from me,” Shayne was saying as Charlie tried to approach him again.

Elliott felt cool hands brush against his shoulders, relief flooding his head as he leaned into Felix’s touch.

“I was… I-I was afraid you wouldn’t come to me,” he breathed, turning to press his forehead against Felix’s leg.

“Well, you see, darling, that’s because you’re an idiot.”

Elliott scoffed in relief as he was dragged gently to his feet, despite Felix’s slight build, whispering apologies over and over again. When he was steady enough to stand mostly by himself, Felix placed a hand on his jaw and smoothed a thumb over his cheek.

“I don’t know where this anger keeps coming from lately,” Felix said, eyelashes fluttering as he examined Elliott’s face, “but it’s going to have to stop snatching you away from me.”

Clenching his jaw, Elliott lowered his head to the top of Felix’s. The moment was short-lived, as Felix began to pull away and approach the scene that was happening behind them. Elliott found it hard to focus, but he just about made out a couple of shoves before Felix intervened, and one figure storming off.

__

Charlie’s heart felt like it might fall to pieces if he didn’t manage to keep at least one hand on Shayne’s body long enough to calm him down. His stomach dropped when he realised this wasn’t going to be possible. Despite how shaky and pale he was, Shayne was determined to shrug him off, and Charlie could feel him slipping away in every sense of the word.

“Where..?” Charlie’s voice cracked as he lost hold of Shayne’s arm. “Where are you going?”

He threw his arms out in a wide shrug as he headed towards the forest. “Fuck knows. Trees. Demons. What else am I good for?”

No.

“No,” Charlie cried out, beginning to run after him when his legs seemed to give out under him. Gravel drove itself into his knees and the palms of his hands as he fell, some of it actually sticking in his left hand as he lifted it and pressed it to his head. He stiffly tried to lift his head, his neck twisting in jerking motions. “Shayne...”

A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and a voice like silk spoke to him.

“It’s alright, buddy.” Felix. “I’m gonna go get him. It’s gonna be fine.”

Charlie opened his mouth wide, like there was a scream lurking in his throat that wanted out, but it was stuck solid. Instead, he retched drily, his stomach tossing like the waves from his dream, from his memory, only this time the scene in his head was sprinkled with Shayne’s words, fresh and scalding, assuring him that they weren’t friends. They never were. He was just a job.

[snowdice]

Food You’ll Never Eat (Part 3 of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Patton (?) Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?)

Characters: Virgil, Patton(?), Logan

Summary:  And was this cruel, Virgil had to wonder, to the man that Patton used to be? To the men they both used to be? To drag what was left of Patton back into the world of the living? To tie him down to the couch he once picked out himself? To let him look blankly out the window into a world he’d never be a part of again? Virgil was not sure. He just knew that usually when Logan and Patton were in the same room together, Virgil could feel the heartbreak and mourning drowning them all.

This though? This was almost, almost, funny.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), Look it’s a zombie AU so you can probably guess why there’s a question mark after everything involving Patton. Angst. It’s a little funnier than the last two parts?? Maybe? Zombie Patton is a little funny if you forget the whole horrifying painful death that caused it. Logan still cries of course.

The third part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

Previous parts: 

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

Convincing Logan to bring Patton upstairs had been frustratingly difficult considering how badly Logan clearly wanted it. It had not been helped by the fact that Virgil had snuck around behind his back to do something “objectively stupid.” (Hypocritical considering how Logan had snuck around behind his back for months and went into the cage many times to do said “objectively stupid” thing himself. But, you know. Whatever.)

“I tested it with a rat first,” Virgil had defended himself, shaking the cage he’d been holding, “Luckily for Nibbles, Patton isn’t interested in live meat.”

“Luckily for you,” had been the retort.

It had led to a series of arguments over the next couple of weeks with interactions such as…

“Why would you even want to do that?”

“I wanted to know. Sue me for wanting to be aware if there was ticking time bomb in the basement that could come and bite me in the ass at any moment. Literally.”

and…

“Well, I’ve kinda grown to like Patton.”

“Patton’s a zombie! He might as well be that chair.”

“Look I’m not going to listen to a lecture on my attachment issues by a guy who keeps his dead boyfriend’s corpse in his basement.”

and…

“He might be more comfortable up here.”

“Patton isn’t going to be comfortable anywhere ever again.”

“But what’s left of him might be.”

“…”

 It was still a trial run. Neither of them was exactly going to sleep with Patton upstairs, and so Logan always wrestled him back downstairs at night. During the day, they didn’t let him freely roam the house; they’d finagled him what was basically a man-sized toddler leash. He… did not seem to like the leash. He tried to yank on it every time they pulled him around on it, but he never managed to think about using the simple clasp to get out of it even after he saw Virgil and Logan use it multiple times. He didn’t even seem to understand that Virgil and Logan were the source of the tugging, simply turning his ire on the belt itself.

He was all instinct. Struggle against things that pulled on you, grab for things that moved or made sound, eat things that your body wanted to eat. There was no more thought put into his actions than Virgil put into the act of breathing.

Virgil had secretly hope that brining him upstairs into what was once his home and not keeping him completely restrained all the time would make him act… he didn’t know… more human? Like, maybe there’d be a spark of recognition in his eyes when he saw his old bedroom, or he’d want to reach out for one of the stuffed animals Logan set out for him. But he just didn’t. He reacted, but only on the most basic levels. He would hear Logan or Virgil speak, but what they said made no difference. He would watch them move, sometimes getting up from the couch or chair they’d attached him to in order to follow them and then blindly swiping the leash when it pulled him back. Yet, he’d react the same way if they threw something large enough or if he caught site of an animal outside the window. He would reach and reach for them, but whatever it was his zombie brain seemed to want, he would never find it.

The only time he took any initiative was when there was food in the area and god was Virgil glad that he and Logan apparently did not register as food to the guy because holy fuck. The first time Virgil had seen him eat a potato, he’d almost thrown up. Like, the meat was one thing. He’d been prepared for the meat. It was fine, but the potato? He shuddered in memory even now. His mind could just not accept it. Also, he was also absolutely unstoppable when food was in the area. They had quickly learned to not attempt to cook or eat anything the zombie found palatable with him in reaching distance because, whatever it was, would be going into his mouth, no argument to be had.

Yet, despite it all, Virgil could not regret bringing him up here. Perhaps there was nothing of a person left under all of that instinct, but he still seemed calmer upstairs. Virgil was fairly certain it had more to do with the lack of restraints than the fact that his surroundings were nicer. While he pulled against the leash sometimes, it was easy for him to forget about it. He didn’t breathe quite as heavily or make as many sickening noises. He still tried to grab them when they were near, much like other zombies did (just without the biting), but it seemed just a touch less desperate.

Then there was Logan. Virgil felt a bit conflicted about Logan. He clearly wanted Patton upstairs, but at the same time, Virgil often caught him looking at the zombie wistfully. Logan was sadder when he was upstairs, but at least he was emoting something. He was less blank and emotionless. He tended to talk more even if those words were almost always tinged with melancholy. When Logan looked at Patton, he clearly could see that he wasn’t the man he loved anymore, but he was something.

And was this cruel, Virgil had to wonder, to the man that Patton used to be? To the men they both used to be? To drag what was left of Patton back into the world of the living? To tie him down to the couch he once picked out himself? To let him look blankly out the window into a world he’d never be a part of again? Virgil was not sure. He just knew that usually when Logan and Patton were in the same room together, Virgil could feel the heartbreak and mourning drowning them all.

This though? This was almost, almost, funny.

 “What did… what did you do to my dining room?” Logan asked aghast when he walked downstairs to see what looked to be going on two dozen plates and bowls of barely touched food haphazardly stacked across the table, something red (distinctly not blood thankfully) all over Virgil and the carpet, and silverware and cups on the floor.

“Patton and I are trying different foods,” Virgil said as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “He really did not like the tomato soup.”

Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “He is clearly an obligatory carnivore. What is the point of this?”

Virgil didn’t answer him. Instead, he set down yet another plate in front of Patton. Logan bristled a bit at the dismissal. “I heard your no on tomatoes loud and clear buddy,” he addressed Patton. “So, maybe we should stick with root vegetables from the oven. I present for your culinary experience, oven roasted carrots.” Patton stared straight forward, not even looking at the plate. “Please dude. I can’t take the only eating potatoes thing. I really can’t. It’s going to drive me bonkers.”

“This is completely unnecessary and ridiculous,” Logan hissed.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do with him Logan?” Virgil asked. “It’s not like we can play chess or have an invigorating conversation about the meaning of the universe.”

“You’re not supposed to do anything with him,” Logan snapped. “He’s not a person anymore. He’s not even a pet. He’s lawn furniture that can walk. He’s a fucking corpse that just isn’t in the ground yet.”

“Then why is he here Logan?”

“Because you wanted to bring him up from the basement!” Patton turned at his increased volume and stumbled to his feet to paw at Logan. Logan pushed him firmly away, but he just kept coming.

“No. If that’s what you think,” Virgil said. “then why is he here, Logan?”

“Because,” Logan shut his mouth. He grabbed Patton’s wrist in his hand to keep it from him and looked away from them both. “Because I love him,” Logan said. He squeezed the hand and got nothing in return. “Because I love him and he’s not here anymore. Sometimes I find myself pretending, but I know he’s not.” he looked up to stare into Patton’s blank eyes. There was no spark to them, and there was no emotion on the face that used to be so open and dynamic. He used to always smile and joke and offer soft touches. Now there was nothing left but the way he struggled to grab at Logan’s face. “Yet…” he continued. “There is something there. Just… just a little piece. Not nearly him, but something. I can’t… I can’t let him go.” He roughly used his unoccupied hand to wipe a tear that had leaked out of one of his eyes away. “And he’s not a toy. He may not be a person anymore, but he was once.”

“I…” Virgil said softly, “I know that Lo. I’m not playing games with him, I swear. I just thought maybe he’d like some other food. Might as well give him things he likes, right?”

Logan let out a soft sob against his will and Virgil’s arms went carefully around him even as the new sound renewed Patton’s efforts to get to him. “I would have let him kill me,” Logan divulged. “When I found him. He was trapped and I knew he wasn’t there anymore, but I let him loose because I knew I couldn’t kill him or leave him there. I couldn’t live without him.”

“Oh Logan,” Virgil sighed. Logan turned from Patton into Virgil’s chest and Virgil rubbed his back as he cried even when Patton started up the grabbing at the back of his head now that he was released. After a few moments, Logan managed to wrestled control over himself.

He stepped back and started to push Patton back toward the chair he’d been sitting in. He aimlessly shoved back. “That’s how I figured out he wouldn’t hurt me,” he told Virgil. He finally got Patton shoved back into the chair. “You’d never hurt me, would you dear?” There was no answer from Patton except to wiggle against the hold, but then again, he’d already answered that question, hadn’t he? He answered it every moment of every day that the mindless husk of himself never tried to harm Logan. He answered it right now when all he did was push against the arms restraining him and never tilted his head down to bite.

Logan knew, logically, it was probably only some kink in the code of whatever virus or parasite the disease was, but some part of him couldn’t help but think that maybe just a part of it was an echo of the man he loved.

Patton gave up the struggle to get back up eventually, more forgetting than relenting. There were a few more moments of silence and then Logan turned to Virgil and forced a small smile. “So, what are you going to try to feed him next? Just a warning, he didn’t care for tomatoes when he was alive.”

“I really wish you’d told me that before he sprayed soup everywhere.”

“How exactly did that happen?”

“I tried to spoon feed him and he must have not liked the smell or the touch of the metal on his lips because he slapped the spoon away. His arm hit the bowl too and I got surprised and knocked over some glasses.”

Logan found himself chuckling. “That’s surprisingly in character for Patton,” he said. “Once we talked about his dislike for tomatoes and he told me that he was fine with cooked ones meaning, of course, in spaghetti sauce or on pizza but hated them raw. So, I cooked him grilled whole tomatoes. He threw them at me.”

Virgil laughed with him. “Well, maybe I’m going about this the wrong way. What did he like to eat?”

Logan hummed. “He would eat dill pickles straight from the jar. I’d call him a heathen and try to take them away from him.”

“You’re the heathen; dill pickles are good.”

“Disgusting,” Logan replied. “He also had a sweet tooth. Particularly for snickerdoodle cookies.”

“Hmm,” Virgil said, “alright. So, we’ll work with the cucumber family and sugar and see where it goes.”

 Patton did eat two pickles on his own power later that day. It was… not any more pleasant to watch than the potatoes.

Want to read more? The next part of this series is

Things You’ll Never Do

[intheseautumnhands]

Um! Kliego, and.... your favourite other TUA ship (lawd, I'm suddenly hoping that you ship kliego lmaooo, sorry if you don't :'))

Hah, it’s fine! I’m into pretty much every single Hargreeves ship to some extent. Klaus/Diego* is not super high on my list to be honest, but I’m definitely still into it overall! I think it’s just fandom saturation more than anything that puts it lower down, because I do think the dynamic could be of interest.

* (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I cannot use smushnames. I don’t begrudge anyone else use of them, they don’t bug me *that* much, but typing them feels so awkward.)

Choosing a favorite is honestly harder because I just want to ship all of them but I will... I dunno. Maybe RNG stuff I’ve written lately to pick. XD

Gonna cut since I’m already rambling before I even put in the questions, whoops.

(Also, two-days-later A: Hi I fell asleep in the middle of this and then barely touched my computer yesterday. Sorry!) 

 Klaus/Diego:

when of if I started shipping it: I walked out of my first viewing singing the song of my people at every single combination possible (Not even walked out, I watched over several days, it only took the first. not even half a season.) (The song of my people is, of course, I Ship It by Not Literally.)

my thoughts: Again, it’s not my #1 ship for the show, but I definitely could see it. I like that, of all the possible combos that could have hung out during the time between leaving home and the show, they seem to have the least amount of active vitriol and bitterness. It opens up interesting windows for that time period, as well as means it’s among the ships that need the least foundation work to get to somewhere decent afterwards. It makes it an interesting counterpart to some of the more actively difficult combinations, which I like especially in a poly context (because I am me and everything happens in a poly context).

What makes me happy about them: Again, the possibilities during the time gaps! And the general sense of... friendliness? It does feel like they’d have a lot less to get over than a lot of the pairs and I like it. (granted I think Klaus in general, while he has plenty of issues, seems to have less of them with his siblings specifically than most, so that’s playing into it, but I also see Diego as probably the one with the most after Vanya, so that’s interesting in and of itself.)

What makes me sad about them: I’m just sad for all these children growing up in their shitty, shitty childhood. And by sad I mean I want to read a lot of things that make me want to cry. Either as children but also I’m down for adults unwillingly letting the conversation drag around to their trauma too.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: Klaus is snarkier, more clever, and a lot stronger, mentally and physically, than I feel like a lot of fic gives him credit for. I think that goes for a lot of fic in this fandom, but since it’s one of the biggest ships and he’s in it, I feel like it shows up a lot for K/D. I’m not a big fan of them being really close as kids, either, which comes up a lot; my headcanon for Diego being pretty distant from all his siblings is strong enough that it takes a lot of set-up for me to accept anything else. (Awkwardly getting close in late teens as both of their ‘get me the fuck out of here’ drives get stronger and stronger is easier for me to see than close-as-kids.)

things I look for in fanfic: Tropes! The writers for this ship give me all the tropes. I want to marinate in it. I’m also kind of into general ‘it was casual, then whoops, I caught feelings, now what??????’ for them, because I could see it. Other than that, like... look, if it looks like it’s interestingly written or has an interesting concept, I will read it. I’m not super picky in this fandom, if it’s Hargreeves-centric and doesn’t bitch at shippers in the tags I’m in to at least give it a try.

My kinks: Uhhhh. Hmmm. I haven’t actually read a lot of kink fic for this ship or considered it, but I feel like I want mutual sadism/masochism.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Honestly my hope is for most of the characters to end up without another major romantic plot. I’m here for canon Allison/Luther but hoping the rest of them just... don’t. Especially since I don’t see them going for two sibling ships and that’s really all I’d want to see. If not that, both of them with new characters would be my preference, because there’s no one actually in the show I’d be down for. Maybe if they somehow warp the timelines around enough to bring Patch back, but even then, eh, just let me have family stuff.

My happily ever after for them: In general as characters, my ideal endgame for both characters is in healthier places than their start point, still clearly working out their shit, and on good terms as a family. As a ship: I feel like both of them would get bored eventually by any kind of ‘and then they went and got a happy domestic place to live and nothing exciting ever happened again’, even if it might be nice for a little while, so... active, somehow. Either they end up somehow finding some kind of active hobby to screw around with together, and enjoy flirting with each other while they do it, or like, I don’t know, get bored one day and accidentally buy a business just to have something to do and find they get weirdly invested in running it. (Maybe, like, a restuarant or something else that’s really high-stress. Or maybe the gym Diego boxes at goes for sale and he doesn’t like the look of the most likely potential buyer and buys it himself before he realizes he has no idea how to run something and has to slink back home and let Klaus laugh at him. Shit, I want that fic now.)

who is the big spoon/little spoon: This assumes either one of them are capable of sleeping totally still which honestly I don’t see. They both seem like the kind of people who flip around in their sleep and wake up five times a night. So, they both take it in turns and also sometimes just end up in weird sprawled positions, either on top of each other or really far from each other.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Honestly, I feel like joking around and talking together would probably be it. I could see road trips, too.

Uhhhh I RNG’d things I’ve written lately and I got Ben/Allison. Nobody else writes that but it’s the tiny ship of my heart so I’m gonna do it anyway. I’m sorry, my random teeny ships are what you sign up for when I get to choose. >>

when of if I started shipping it: On like my third rewatch Allison’s little “I miss him” while she’s watching the cameras burned itself into my brain and I have wanted more for the two of them ever since.

my thoughts: I just! Look it’s pretty much canon that everyone loved Ben, but something about his snarky-but-because-I-want-you-to-do-better-and-I’ve-given-up commentary with Klaus and Allison’s alternating defensive and concerned mode -- I just want them to team up together to despair everyone else’s problems and try to figure out how to help (and often failing; I feel like in a general sense, they’re both better at pointing out the problems than actually fixing them on their own). And I feel like they both get prickly in ways the other would understand and be able to deal with easier than most of the family.

What makes me happy about them: I feel like this just blends into the thoughts above. I love the potential for how they might interact, and the potential for them to call out each other’s shit (and probably everyone else’s).

What makes me sad about them: Everything about Ben in canon is sad! Even the happy things are sad!

things done in fanfic that annoys me: There are exactly two fics for this pairing and one is me and one is PWP smut, which just isn’t super my thing. So uh. there needs to be fic to annoy me. Please write fic specifically to annoy me, oh no, don’t throw me into that briar patch. (That said, in general, I feel like both of them get their sharper points filed down a lot in fic. They both have their pointed sarcasm and their moments of outright lashing out, and I want to see more fic deal with that.)

things I look for in fanfic: Again, I say, please let fic exist. Also, I badly want a proper AU of Ben surviving and running off to Hollywood with Allison. I did not do it justice in my tiny thing.

My kinks: I want switchy powerplay with an emphasis on play -- competitiveness and teasing and wrestling. Also younger or AU Allison who hasn’t yet tried not to use her rumors for everything not trusting anyone but Ben enough to gag her, because her voice is her best weapon. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Please please give me an Allison/Luther endgame. Ben I have no feelings on -- I still stand by not wanting any other romantic subplots, really -- but I am rooting for Allison/Luther in canon no matter how many others I ship them with.

My happily ever after for them: Possible in canon, as characters: Allison figures out how to balance ‘not using her rumors at all’ and ‘rumoring everything always’; Ben gets brought back to life and gets to be happy. As a ship: Honestly, connected to the family and both doing their own, fulfilling, non-superheroy things. Allison can act and Ben can get a chance to figure out what he wants to do, because I feel like even if he’d survived that would’ve been hard for him.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Especially if we’re going with some semblance of canon and Ben’s died and come back, he’s the little spoon, because being wrapped up in someone else is comforting. But also just any kind of cuddling is welcome.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Judging everyone. No, I kid. Sharing and discussing books and movies, maybe. Ben passes along books he liked* and they watch movies together and Allison dissects acting choices and they both debate themes and ending of more ambiguous stories. They are loud movie watchers if they stay home to watch things, and go have loud debates over coffee after if they go out. *(I actually have a whole tangent in a fic that got cut out that I want to reuse for this fact, specifically about Ben having a slightly masochistic Lovecraftian phase in his early teens and passing it on to Allison, and Allison in her 20s thinking that if it fits either of them, it’s her, because she gets in people’s brains and rewires them and they forget what she’s done to them, and if either of them could make people go mad, it’s her.)

[slasherscream]

poly Billy and Stu and their s/o as parents? like the type of father's they'd be and all

A/N: glad you all know that i'm only here to put these dumb-ass boys in all sorts of domestic scenarios and nothing else. 

     billy loomis x reader x stu macher   ft. starting a family with these idiots

                                                     ——————– 

Let's get one thing straight here. Billy has been dodging the idea of starting a family since you started having it. He could smell the urge to have a kid on you and was like (big gag). There are so many reasons for him being like this he can hardly name them all. This doesn't stop him from trying        you know, cause he's a huge asshole. 

Him? Somebody's Dad? Okay babe, sure. He lists a lot of reasons that have nothing to do with the root of the problem which is actually his own insecurities. Yes it's true he's never really liked kids much. Yes it's true he's probably not the best role model even after all these years of growing up. You get the picture already Billy, fucking hell. 

Stu is neutral on the subject for a long time until his own "biological clock" starts ticking. Then you both find yourself sharing longing looks at families you cross on the street. You'll be having lunch out somewhere and coo at a baby that's all the way across the restaurant. Stu happily joining in. Once Stu is on your side Billy starts getting really defensive  .... (aka more insecure). 

Honestly you're not the one to talk him out of his own head for this one. That's all Stu. Because as ridiculous and goofy as Stu can be he understands intimately and deeply how Billy works         no matter how much of an enigma Billy fucking thinks he is. Billy storms out because he doesn't want to deal with his feelings (first time he's done it in years) and Stu goes to chase him down and tells you not to worry, he's got this.

You're very upset but when they come back the first thing Billy does is kiss you gently, Stu standing in the doorway and simply watching. There's several visible hickies on Stu's neck so you know he and Billy already made up while they were gone. Now it's your turn to receive Billy's apologetic affection. You and Stu share a knowing exasperated look over Billy's shoulder. You both love him though. 

Billy was just insecure about being a shitty parent or your relationship falling apart and somehow effecting a kid. Honestly it all goes back to his own undealt with familial problems and once Stu gave him an honest talk about how you're all not #His Parents?? He's good. He's using his braincell again and he's fine. 

Now onto the actuality of having the kid! You're in for quite the ride co-parenting with these two bastard idiots.

Stu is the dad you can get away with doing just about anything with. He’s the parent that if you go to them they’ll just say yes. Sometimes he’ll use his one borrowed braincell and hit the kid with “did you ask dad?” or “did you ask s/o?”. The kid pouts because like .... obviously fucking not since I came to ask the parent who'd just give in. Weak-willed! Weak-willed! Weak-willed!

This is Billy every time he has to talk to his kid about any bad behavior.

You'll have to be the PTA parent right off the bat because the boys are just ...not gonna. Unless there's a real problem they're gonna default assume everything is fine and not look deeper or get too involved because like... This has nothing to do with my fucking kid in particular? You want me to go to a parent meeting....about....repairs in the library? Fuck you.

The one exception to this is during the "first starting school age" and it's Billy who is the exception. Stu loves the kid but he's very chill and not a helicopter parent. He's honestly the one who has to calm you two down a lot because he knows everything will be fine.

Billy? Kid first starts school and he's this parent (don't watch past 15:00). He thought he'd be fine but he's anxious as shit. The last one to leave the drop-off even if his kid is fine. But oh god .... oh god if they're freaking out? Oh boy he's gonna start freaking out. Hiding it like a pro but you know your man and can see the panic in his eyes. One well placed "daddy I wanna go home!" and he'll break and haul them right from the classroom. You and Stu have to intervene.

Billy wants to hang out in the cafe that just so happens to be a five minute walk from the school all day. You put your foot down and tell him they're gonna be fine. You have to cuddle him on the couch all day to keep him still. When it's time to go pick the kid up he's out the door ... so fucking fast. He almost leaves y'all highkey. Billy and the kid run to each other full speed and he picks them up and doesn't put them down...like....all day. No you two cannot get a turn. 

Sometimes Billy gets very emotional about the life they’re giving their kid. Not out of insecurity or anything like he thought would happen when he first thought of starting a family with you and Stu. He actually realizes that you’re all doing a fantastic job of being parents and that your house is full of love to the max. It makes him soft(TM).

Wanted to keep this totally gender neutral but it’s gotta be said ….. this goes double for if the s/o is a woman. Seeing them with their child stirs something in Billy deeply vulnerable. He’s literally buried his head in the crook of your neck before and thanked you quietly for being such an incredible mother. He was so sincere about it you started crying and honestly? ….Maybe he allegedly got misty eyed. Okay back to gender neutrality now! 

Y’all wouldn’t have more than two kids honestly. I can’t imagine Billy and Stu wanting more than that. And they’d want to have them really close together/close in age so they grow up close/as friends. They're the single kids who kinda wished they'd had a sibling growing up. Billy because he thinks that would have been less lonely and Stu because he thinks it would have been fun. You (if you have siblings) know.... better. But if you wanted multiple kids yourself you keep your mouth shut and just wait for them to watch and learn. 

Stu is the favorite parent honest-fucking-tea. He just is! He’s playful. He’s fun. He’s loving. He lets his kid climb all over him and play wrestle. They're constantly playing airplane or on this man's shoulders. He can match them energy wise any day of the week. He doesn’t stop being the favorite when they get older either. When the kid is like grown/20′s        basically whatever their "I am no longer being raised to be a person" stage of life? They’d probably dead ass hang out with him as a "friend".

"Nah I can’t come to the party I got plans with my dad this weekend…. fuck you he’s way more fun than you guys-”

Billy is the strictest parent but he’s very loving and devoted. He’s the parent your kid runs to whenever they feel they need protection. It warms Billy’s heart to be that to them. Their first line of defense against the whole world. It’s been like this since they were little. If they had a nightmare they’d run into the bedroom and bypass the two of you completely and head straight for Billy. He's also a little smug about it. Especially to Stu and especially if they have a daughter. I'm the alpha Dad?? Tremble before me.

They don’t have a preference for adopting or having bio kids. You’re probably the deal-breaker on that, your choice goes. 

Adoption? They both thought they wanted a boy. Super adamant about it. Gonna play football... grill shit together. ...grill a football together. You? Neutral. But all along you knew damn well you were gonna wind up having a fucking daughter. Lo and behold!

They see a little girl playing by herself in the corner. She can’t be much older than six. She set herself up a whole little mini city and then they watched as she took a dinosaur toy .... and destroyed it thoroughly. She made quiet screaming people noises and everything. Or just ..... this. They instantly looked at each other like 👀👀👀      are you seeing what I'm seeing? 

Billy, clutching his chest: oh shit what’s going on You: your heart is growing three sizes you fucking grinch- Billy: don’t fucking curse she could hear you and she’s ours now-

Once they've got the perfect weirdo little girl under their belt then they'll think about having a boy. But they'd want to make sure she's totally settled into life with the three of you before they bring another kid into the mix. And ... lmao if she expresses disinterest in having another kid around. She is ... #Princess and gets whatever she wants. Whatever! She! WANTS! 

You have to convince her you three will never love her less even with another kid around and besides .... she's gonna be getting a stinky brother this time so she'll still get to be daddy's (plural) little girl. She agrees and now the boys are back on board. Fucking absolute pussies. 

Funniest fucking thing if you guys go as a family once again to try and get a boy and instead your daughter bonds with a ..... get ready for it! Different little girl! Billy and Stu are fucking SCREAMING. Look at her this one is perfect too. God dammit ... god dammit we have another daughter now. 

Two daughters? Two? They'd rule the fucking house. Billy can see manipulation coming from a mile away and yet he let's it happen because they're both so cute running the show. Plus it's like when lions fake being hurt when their cubs attack them to encourage them to be better hunters. He wants his daughters sharp! He wants his daughters clever! He wants them to be able to do whatever the fuck they wanna do! 

Stu is less good at seeing the manipulation and it's so fucking funny .... he doesn't even wanna see it! He's legally blind! His babies want something? He will throw any amount of money at them and whatever they want. Is the Dad that they'd beg him to start like... a new hobby or sport and he'd get them everything they need to do it (top of the line expensive shit) and then! If they wanna quit a week later? Not even mad! What do we wanna do this week, sweethearts? 

You have to stop them from being spoiled, little monsters because your husbands sure fucking won't. 

You have walked in on them doing tea parties and you did take pictures. Stu was posing for them while Billy just looked straight at the camera with murder in his eyes and you knew in your heart you were gonna be getting payback for this later in the bedroom (worth it). 

Billy is the type of Dad that if he tells someone he's gonna be busy watching his kids and they go "oh? babysitting duty, huh?" he launches into a ten minute rant about "how am i fucking babysitting? it's my fucking kids? these are my kids? you can't baby-sit your own fucking kids. that's called parenting. you know what, Nicholas? that's why your kids are so fucked up-"

Billy starts beef with other parents if I didn't make that clear. 

Stu is the parent that gets too into whatever his kids are doing. School plays? Soccer games? Science fair? Jesus christ... he has quite literally almost gotten you all banned from every activity your kid has been in. He's gotten penalties before. Decided to skip the middle man once and coach your girl's teams to make it easier. Chaos ensued that summer. 

Honestly? Best Dad(s) Award. 10/10. Should totally do it again. 

                                                     ——————–

[halfblood-fiend]

Every Single Star - Dragon Age: Origins, Cousland x Alistair

Written for Blu’s Discord Secret Santa, here is the first half of my gift for @mothmanaintshit. Thanks for your patience while I do it this way because it totally got away from me but I’m thinking that it’ll be super worth the wait because I am very proud of this whole thing! :D

So here’s my first coffee shop AND college AU, just for Axel with their Warden Cousland, Delilah, and the best ball of awkward, Alistair. <3

Words: 8,257 (big yikes)

Rating: General Audiences

Warning(s): light cursing

Read it on AO3

Ferelden’s capital, Denerim, seemed to always be awake and bustling, which was why the silver and blue light-up sign emblazoned with a griffon and announcing their space as The Grey Warden Coffee Roasters never turned off. Must’ve been a rule here, to appear to never need sleep. The line out the door most mornings implied this rule applied to people as well. They all crammed themselves into the cozy shop, certainly following the smell of brewing coffee more than the desire to bask in “the glory” of the fraying Warden memorabilia hanging on the dark walls. Duncan was proud of “his brand” though, so it stayed, no matter how many sneezing fits Alistair had from the dust.

The commuters rush and the first pinkish lights of dawn had just about died down in favor of a full grey sunrise before the next wave of morning-time ghouls lumbered their way into the café. Instead of the existential dread of a long, slow life in the office, these ones carried with them the crisp air of the first day of autumn. This rush was all new notebooks and shuffling papers and the strangely satisfying sound of polyester backpack straps being anxiously shifted on shoulders as folks rooted around in the bottom of them for Sovereigns.

Alistair and Duncan helped all these idiots get their mornings in some semblance of order before their first classes of the term at the University of Ferelden: Denerim, conveniently just down the street.

The glass doors banged open, the silver bell overhead ringing like mad, a sharp gust of biting wind swirling leaves across the floor. Alistair paused from frantically writing on a black insulated paper cup in a squeaky silver pen and saw her.

A small woman with blonde hair, a thick blue scarf the shade of denim and a cream-colored sweater stood there wrestling the door closed. Her scarf slipped from her flushed, wind-bitten cheeks as she yanked on the handle, the tousled top of her short-cropped hair whipping around her head. She panted and pushed, her pointed face straining until the door closed with a snap and she turned, murmuring a short apology to the onlooking line of patrons. Alistair hardly realized he was staring with a slacked jaw until the elf in front of him cleared their throat and asked how much for the Caramel Griffon Steamer in a voice that told him that this wasn’t the first time they’d asked.

“Sorry, I—? What size will that be?”

They looked at him doubtfully but replied, “Small. The Genlock. It’s literally the one in your hand you were just writing on.”

Alistair flushed hard and coughed. “Oh! Right!” As he pressed the buttons on the register, his gaze wandered towards the back of the line where the woman fell in with the rest, but now that the door had been righted and the wind calmed down, she’d disappeared into the jumble of people. He tamped down the strange disappointment that swelled in his chest as he took the elf’s money and dumped it into the register’s drawer.

The line moved steadily enough, but impatience started coloring his voice with each new customer that wasn’t the Door-Wrestling-Woman. Every once in a while, he would catch a glimpse of her. A cream-sweater-clad elbow, a flash of that scarf or the peeking toe of her shoes. She wore tan boots with a flat heel, skinny jeans neatly tucked into the knitted tops. Alistair amused himself by deciding that meant she was practical, maybe even economical, as though he was some sort of detective from a bad mystery novel. He knew that in reality, those random details meant very little, but it just felt so important to know something—anything—about her. And why that was, was beyond him.

He was internally interpreting the symbolic meaning of wearing a denim-colored scarf and blue denim jeans at the same time when the next person in line stepped forward and made him do a double take.

He had to be the nastiest, most sour-looking man Alistair had ever seen—and he had seen so many people in his time working here. He recalled to his mind every negative interaction to date; every upset PTA parent complaining about the consistency of their latte’s foam and every harried businessman with neckties so tight their purple faces looked like they would pop clean off after Alistair told them they were out of pumpkin spice syrup. He put them all together as one person and this man still managed to look nastier. Something about his long black hair or his piercing blue eyes or the vicious glower that settled just beneath his stern features made Alistair’s guts wilt and curl into themselves like paper in a fire. He looked to be the physical manifestation of every bad thing that ever happened in Alistair’s life thus far, and when his thin lips attempted a brief but grim mockery of a smile, Alistair gripped the counter behind the register to keep from jumping backwards.

Thank the Maker that the expression slid from the man’s face almost as soon as it appeared, as though it pained him to make the muscles in his mouth do that for even an instant.

Alistair adopted the most chipper tone he could manage in light of his desire to dart into the back room away from this man. “Er-Hello, ser. What can I- erm- get started for you today?”

The man’s eyes flicked upwards to the menu as though he hadn’t just spent the last 20 or so minutes waiting with nothing else to do but read the carefully written chalk letters. He frowned. “Do you have just plain coffee in this Maker-damned place?”

Movement from behind him caught Alistair’s eye and the flash of blonde hair and cream sweater grabbed his attention. The Door-Wrestling-Woman’s head snapped up from her phone at the man’s gruff voice and recognition sparked in her eyes. Then horror. She turned away from him in order to pull her green canvas messenger bag in front of her, hold the flap up between their line of sight and begin rummaging around in the bottom of it. Alistair’s brows furrowed at her. The man started to turn to look when Alistair realized that was probably the last thing she wanted and cleared his throat to get his attention back.

“Uhm, yes. We have several signature blends and I’d be happy to recommend some to you. Wha-what are you looking for to satisfy that palate of yours, hmm? Any favorite tastes or flaaaa-vors I should know about?”

Scowling, the man replied, “No. I just need the caffeine and this silly little place happened to be on the way to the university.”

“Ah, so, on your way to school, I see—”

“No small talk. I’m not interested.”

“Oooohkay,” Alistair’s mouth snapped shut. The Door-Wrestling-Woman lowered the flap of her bag a few inches and his eyes found hers. He was delighted to note the scrunched-up touch of amusement in the corners of her eyes.

When the man spoke, she disappeared behind the bag again. “Give me whichever one has the most caffeine and be done with it.”

“Ah. That’d be our Darkspawn Roast! Excellent blend, ser, you are truly a man of impeccable taste. I guarantee you will find it absolutely de-blight­-ful and sure to make your eyes wide as a—” The deep scowl was enough to make Alistair abandon all hope of making the Door-Wrestling-Woman laugh and he cleared his throat instead. “Er- what size?”

“Large.”

“Oh, er, sorry about that,” Alistair began. He really didn’t want to have to break any sort of bad news to this man, but at this point he was contractually obligated to. He hoped it wouldn’t be the last thing he did with his short life. “I aaactually can’t do that. See, there is too much caffeine in the Darkspawn Blend and it is actually quite illegal for me to sell that much to you. I’m afraid I can only give it to you in a Hurlock size, not an Ogre.”

The man did indeed appear as agitated as Alistair worried he would, the curl of a sneer appearing at the corners of his mouth. “Illegal?”

“Mmm, yes. Illegal.”

“Why?”

“Caffeine is a drug, technically, as I am sure you are aware, ser. You’re only supposed to have so much a day. We could be shut down if I sell you Darkspawn Blend in an Ogre because it would be too much caffeine.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Ah, yes, well, still a no, ser, I’m afraid. I…I’m sorry. I can still give you the Hurlock size…?” His hand edged for the middle-sized insulated cup and Alistair almost wished that he could just sell him the big one and be done, if for no other reason than to get this man away from him. But Duncan was always watching, even as he busied himself making drinks as Alistair took orders. The last time Alistair had sold an Ogre-sized Darkspawn Blend to someone, Duncan had refused to sell Alistair any of his favorite Mabari Cake Pops for a month.

Frowning, the man squinted up at the menu and then asked, “I can add espresso shots to any drink, can’t I?”

Alistair gulped. Ah, the Shrieks. Not the Shrieks and the Darkspawn Blend? At his age, this man would have a heart attack before he left the parking lot. “…yes?”

“Is there a limit to them? Because of that silly caffeine thing?”

“Yes. Five.”

“And I can add them to this drink, too, if I wanted?”

Alistair’s eyes widened and darted to the left where Duncan was busy at the steamer and shaking up other drinks in the line. He really should ask, he thought to himself, though he knew the answer was, technically, ‘yes.’ Sod it, if the man died, he died and it was his own fault, wasn’t it? Alistair had warned him. “Yes,” he said finally, and the man nodded.

“Good. Then give me that blasted medium size and put five shots in it.”

With a shaking hand, Alistair wrote what he was told and repeated the order back while in a vague state of shock. “Darkspawn Blend, Hurlock, five…Shrieks… Uh. Room for cream?”

“No. And no sugar, either. Black, if you please.”

Alistair nodded, but didn’t understand as he wrote the last bit of order. “Name?”

“Loghain.”

Alistair proceeded to make the most terrifying coffee order he’d ever taken in his life. He couldn’t help but hold his breath when he handed over the drink that probably tasted just like the Blight itself and Loghain walked out of the café. Please don’t die in our parking lot, he thought, I’d have to clean it up. As the door closed behind this Loghain man, he breathed out an audible sigh of relief.

“Awful, isn’t he?”

Blinking a little to clear the haze of horror that had settled over him, Alistair realized with a start that the Door-Wrestling-Woman was now standing right in front of him, unobstructed by either customers nor her own messenger bag.

When faced with her up close, whether she was economical or practical or whatever fanciful things he had made up about her before this moment, he realized only one thing was abundantly obvious: that she was breathtakingly beautiful.

She beamed at him, in all her tiny glory, the wool scarf around her neck the same light blue of her eyes, making them pop and dance. Her hair reflected the light with golden strands. Her slim jaw accentuated the pink feminine curve of her mouth. Her brows, somewhat raised with amusement, furrowed the purple tattoo around her left eye. His greedy gaze took in as much of her as he could, and for the first time in what Duncan might have called ‘forever’, Alistair was stunned into silence.

She misinterpreted that silence, her smile slipping slightly and added, “Don’t worry. You didn’t do anything. He’s like that with everyone.”

Duncan crossed behind him and placed a carrying tray of drinks on the pic-up counter. “Tabris!” he shouted into the room in his deep voice.

And with that, the spell was broken, and Alistair shook himself slightly and returned an uncertain smile. “Oh. You…you know him, do you?”

“Sadly. He’s my Modern Military History professor,” she said with a grimace.

Wrinkling his nose, Alistair echoed, “Modern Milita—what kind of a class is that? What would it even be for? It sounds horribly boring!”

He gulped as the woman’s face hardened at his words. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” she replied cooly, “It’s a part of the Military Series for a Political Science degree.”

Alistair saw his opportunity to fix this interaction with humor and he took it. “Riiight. Political Science. That’s every child’s dream, isn’t it? To grow up and be a corrupt politician. Is there anything better in the world?”

To his horror, she didn’t crack a smile.

“It was my childhood dream to be a politician. Like my parents are now.”

Oh. Well…shit.

“Mmmm,” Alistair hummed and picked up his silver pen to fidget with it. “And, on that note, what can I get for you today? I hear the foot-in-mouth breakfast sandwich is very good this morning. I can make it as an Alistair-special. As you can see, I’m really good at putting them together.”

Blessedly, she did laugh this time and shook her head. The tension in his stomach disappeared immediately and Alistair secretly decided there wasn’t a better sound in the world.

“I mean, you’re kinda right. It’s not a normal thing to want, and you didn’t know…and Professor Mac Tir is the worst…”

“It is quite unfortunate that you have him as your teacher, yes. You have my condolences for that.”

She smiled up at him again and said, “Thanks. He’s brilliant though, even if he is mean.”

Duncan appeared at the register beside them and typed on the keys quickly to log in. He threw a look at Alistair as he called the next customer in line forward that told him that he was bristling not just because he was beardy. You’re supposed to take their orders, Alistair, not chit-chat with them, he practically heard his friend say in his mind. But Alistair pretended not to notice.

She continued, “He just recently published a paper, you know.”

“Oh?”

“And also made it required reading for the class.”

“Oh. So, a total douche, then?”

“A bit. It’s called Philosophical and Theoretical Perspectives on Wartime Justice: The Question of War and Ethics. In case…I dunno, you ever wanna look it up for yourself. It’s good, I’ll admit, but I’ve been staring at it for the last couple of hours because I forgot it was due before our first class. And honestly, I’m getting so sick of thinking about it, so how about some coffee?”

“Coffee! Yes. I do have that, if you would like to buy some!”

Giggling, her eyes briefly roved up to the menu and Alistair took the moment to be relieved that he had successfully navigated out of the hole he’d dug himself into. Good job, Alistair.

“Oh man… there’s a lot of drinks… What would you recommend?”

Wide blue eyes blinked at him, waiting, and he struggled not to get lost in them so he could answer. “Me? I would recommend…hm. The Calling Latte and the Conscrip-uccino are both popular and they’re pretty good. But my personal favorite is probably the Brewed Mother. It’s a pour-over blend of several of our roasts so it’s got all the taste of coffee but is also very sweet and thick and foamy because we use druffalo milk instead of a cow’s.”

“Sure. I’ll try that then!”

“Excellent choice!” Alistair said, double underlining and starring either side of ‘Brewed Mother’ on the cup. “And if you don’t like it, I can give you your money back!” Duncan threw him a dirty look.

But she laughed. “I doubt that’ll be necessary.”

Alistair grabbed the size she wanted (Hurlock), took down her name (Delilah—has there ever been a more beautiful name in all of ever??) and sent her on her way. Once she moved on, Duncan signed off of his register and elbowed him gently in the ribs.

“We’re too busy to make fools of ourselves in front of pretty girls right now. How about staying on task, hmm?”

Alistair rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he assented to the warm and firm grip of Duncan’s hand on his shoulder. He should have known there would have been no hiding anything from Duncan, even busy as they were right now. Knowing the old man, he probably heard everything, too, and was going to grill him about it as soon as the rush died down. Yet even replaying the embarrassing things he just said to Delilah couldn’t dim the warm glow of happiness that breathed life into his chest and spread all the way to his toes with each fluttering beat of his heart.

His gaze kept flickering to her as he took more orders, but her own was glued to her phone. Each time he looked, she would be squinting at the screen or typing furiously with flying thumbs.

That was just as well, probably. A little voice inside urged him to ask her for her number, but how weird would that be? Hey, I know that I just met you and I insulted your life’s goals but I’d love to keep doing so over texts if you give me your number. Worrying his lip between his teeth, Alistair told himself that would never fly. Rom-Com romances didn’t happen in real life in busy coffee shops near universities. Total strangers didn’t have instant connections, no matter how much he believed it to be true. The only connection Delilah had to him was that she was about to drink his favorite coffee, and once it was gone, that was it. No more Alistair the Grey Roaster in her life.

But he wanted so badly to ask her anyway.

So maybe he just should.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair saw Duncan fit a Hurlock-sized cup with a lid, and as he spun it to make sure the lid was fully closed, Alistair spied the silver stars peeking over the cup sleeve. As he turned to take Delilah’s cup to the counter, Alistair wheeled away from the register and plucked it from Duncan’s hand.

“Hey—”

“Switch you!” And without waiting for a response, Alistair marched her cup to the counter and called Delilah’s name.

She looked up and when she saw him, she beamed. And when she beamed at him, a strange shiver of delight rippled through his body and made him grin in return. Like the most wonderful domino effect.

“Your coffee, Future Arl of Denerim.”

Delilah giggled as she took the offered cup. “I’d have my work cut out for me if I pursued that. I’ve got my eyes on a smaller but no less noble prize. Highever will do just fine for me. Though it’ll take just as much work to get there.” She took a sip from her cup and her eyes lit up. “Ooh, this is good! Thanks for the rec. Gotta get to class now. Wish me luck!”

“Me luck,” Alistair said, somewhat breathlessly, earning him a final smile over her shoulder before Delilah disappeared out the door.

As he watched it close behind her, he realized he hadn’t asked for her number after all.

“Alistair! Register!”

Good luck out there, Delilah, he thought, a soft regret constricting his throat. He rapped the counter with his knuckles then returned to the morning mayhem.

Alistair had been wrong. Duncan wasn’t going to tease him later that day. And not that night or the next day or the next. He was beginning to think he was in the clear and Duncan would be cool and never mention Delilah at all… until after the morning rush on Thursday.

Duncan leaned against the counter with the steamer machine and mopped his brow with a handkerchief he produced from the pocket of his grey and blue apron. A few people still milled about at the array of black tables with their headphones on, but at least there was no more line of people and no more orders to fill. It was enough time for them to breathe, for certain, but not enough to relax if the teetering pile of coffee-stained shakers, glass blender jars and measuring cups in the shining metal sink had anything to say about it.

“So,” Duncan began in his baritone, causing Alistair to freeze with his hand inside the baked treats display.

“Soooo….?”

Duncan’s dark eyes bored into his and twinkled with mischief. “Still no sign of the Cousland girl, eh?”

“What?” Alistair’s back snapped straight so quickly that he forgot the sliding glass door he was holding onto and it closed on his wrist. “Ouch!”

Duncan chortled to himself and switched out his handkerchief for a dish towel. He picked up the first dirty serving glass with worn, careful fingers and got to washing. “Why don’t you pick up your jaw and make yourself useful, Alistair. Wipe down the machines while we still can.”

“How…How did you find out her last name?” Alistair asked him. He bent to pick out a clean microfiber towel and Duncan’s favorite all-natural cleaner from a lower cabinet. “And how did you know I was looking for her? I wasn’t, by the way!”

His friend smiled and Alistair heard the low rumble of quiet laughter over the spritz of his spray bottle. Just like Duncan to decide not to answer. But after some washing, he said, “It was easy enough. Her name was Delilah; she said she was a political science major and has wanted to be a politician all her life, like her family is. And she mentioned she wanted to be Arl of Highever. One internet search was all it took to find Delilah Cousland, only daughter of the current Arl of Highever. Even filled in my search bar for me.”

“You searched for a customer?” Alistair gasped, offended for her. Duncan did some socially questionable things sometimes (like take a penniless orphan in and give him a job and a place to stay, for one) but this was low, even for him. “I just can’t believe you would do such a heinous thing. I don’t think I can even look at you!” Alistair moved on to spray the cappuccino machine and made a mental note to search for ‘Delilah Cousland’ on his own computer later. He knew just enough about the current state of the Houses of Nobles, Arls and Teryns to know the Couslands were somebody, but he couldn’t quite recall what they had been known for.

“Oh, good morning, Delilah, welcome back,” Duncan rumbled.

Alistair spun around towards the register and dropped the spray bottle, his hand flying to his hair instead—

—but there was no one there.

The room shook with Duncan’s great, booming laughter.

“Oh, har har, Old Man,” Alistair scolded, flushing as he snatched up his spray bottle from the floor. “What a wonderfully cruel trick to play on your poor employee. Feel good now, do you?”

“Absolutely,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “You were looking for her then. You’ve been sullen and sulking after every morning rush for the last couple of days.”

“No,” Alistair insisted. No way was he letting Duncan get the best of him. Not again. “I do not ‘sulk.’ And I’m not looking for her. I don’t even remember what her name is anymore.”

“Oh, so, I can unbookmark her MyPhylactery page and not tell you her current relationship status.”

“Wait, wait, wait! You found her MyPhylactery page?”

Duncan gave him a satisfied side eye, his bushy black beard betraying the wide toothy smile beneath and nodded.

“And…it wasn’t set to private?”

He shook his head. “It was. I invited her to Bond to our company page.”

“But our company page is just your Phylactery!”

He nodded.

“So now you can see all her information!”

Duncan’s eyes twinkled.

“That was a skeevy thing you did, you know.”

“So, you don’t want to see her Phylactery?” Duncan asked again even though it was clear he already knew the answer. Alistair cursed himself for being so blighted easy to read.

“No, no. I’ll look. But I won’t be happy about it, and I will deny any involvement if she ever finds out. I’ll throw you under the cart-wheels in an instant, Old Man, mark my words.”

His threat was only met with snickers.

Alistair didn’t have to wait long at all before he saw Delilah again. After all the waiting and all the eager searching of faces each morning, he figured it was just his luck that she would reappear now, at the end of his break. The break that he had just spent pouring over the link to MyPhylactery that Duncan had sent him and scrolling over every picture and every life update she had posted in the last five years.

As soon as he saw her wander in, he blushed. He shouldn’t be blushing. It…It was perfectly normal to look someone up after you’d met them! Even though…she’d never actually given him her last name. Nor had she really consented to letting Duncan see her private profile. Because how was she supposed to know that he was bad with tech like some strange youngish-Old Person and didn’t even know how to make a business account on MyPhylactery? Alistair felt that he really shouldn’t know that she had broken up with her boyfriend of four years before moving to Denerim to go to school, and that he was still commenting on every single post that she made. Clearly, he couldn’t let her go. It had to be annoying for her. But Alistair shouldn’t have known that, it was weird.

So he blushed scarlet when Delilah waved at him, and his stomach twisted in guilty knots when she bounced forward to order at the counter. Her bright smile, while still dazzling, didn’t quite melt the ice pounding in his veins. He was sure she could read the guilt in his eyes.

“You okay?” she asked, shifting her bag’s strap from her right shoulder to her left. Her head tilted quizzically. There was genuine worry in her eyes. Alistair might’ve felt touched if he wasn’t too busy feeling ashamed. “You look flushed. Are you sick?”

Alistair tried to speak, failed, cleared his throat and tried again. “’S’just warm back here…is all.”

Every impulse in him screamed to tell her, but what would that even do? It wasn’t a big deal! Was it? If anything, he would look like more of a stalker if he just announced to her that he’d looked her up and found out that her brother, Fergus Cousland, had gotten hired to work as a campaign manager for the incumbent Arl of Amaranthine Rendon Howe, and was slated to become the next Arl once Howe gained the Teyrnship, and then she, Delilah, was promised an internship on the committee (which she was very, very excited and grateful for, a sentiment that earned her 106 likes from all her various Phylactery Bonds).

Oh, Maker, no, he should tell her. He should fess up and beg forgiveness before he accidentally let on that he knows more than he should and loses the possibility of a friendship with this beautiful, wonderful, intelligent—

“Did you hear me?”

He started. “Sorry. What was that?”

Delilah smiled and shook her head at him. “Are you sure you’re not sick? You should go and sit down because you seem really out of it.”

“I’m okay, really,” he replied shakily, lifting a hand to rub out a kink that started forming in the back of his neck from the stress of his own personal disaster.

“Well, if you’re sure… I said that I really liked what you recommended to me last time. So I think I’ll just have another Brewed Mother. But I’ll take it in an Ogre this time.” She patted her bag and sighed, “I’ve got a lotta work to do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Alistair asked somewhat automatically, picking up the large cup and scribbling away. He wrote her name without asking for it and added a star at the end.

Tell her, you idiot. Say something!

“I should—”

“I also said—”

They both spoke at the same time, then they both paused to chuckle awkwardly.

“You can—”

“What were you—”

They shared more uncomfortable titters and Alistair stared at the register keys, willing them to spell out what to do next or to come to life and attack him, or anything really to abate his discomfort. Sweet Maker…

“I-I was just going to say that I had also asked—before, I mean—well, that I didn’t get to catch your name last time. Is all.” Delilah fiddled with the grey and tawny feathers taped to the tip jar. Duncan swore they were real griffon feathers and would encourage people to be more generous with their tips. Alistair was sure they were eagle feathers, which didn’t seem to inspire anyone to give more silvers than they usually would.

Strange thing to ask for, his name, Alistair thought as he glanced down at his apron to double check that his blue nametag was indeed still attached to his chest. It’s right there, after all. But before his brain decided if he should point his badge out to her or not, his mouth was moving, and his name was falling out of it. His whole name.

“It’s Alistair Theirin,” he said, the sounds coming out like a rush of water with no hope of damming it up. His mouth clamped shut so hard that his teeth snapped together and rattled his brain, but he knew the damage was done. Delilah’s face had whipped back up to his and she searched his soul as though she could confirm he was telling the truth if she stared hard enough.

“Theirin?” she echoed in astonishment. “Like the Theirin? Like King Cailan and Maric and—”

Alistair leaned over the register and shushed her more violently than he intended, eyes frantically darting around the coffee house. The only patron now was one dwarf in the corner, and he had on a headset nearly as big as his whole head.

Delilah lowered her voice, but her eyes were still wide. “I-I can’t believe… A Theirin? But then, why are you here?”

Grimacing, Alistair replied, “It’s a long story… One I’d really rather not talk about it, to be honest.”

He expected her to press—the handful of people he’d told over the course of his life often did—but, to her credit, she only nodded. “I’m a Cousland so…so I get it. Kinda. In a not-as-big way, of course, but, yeah… There’s just a lot of expectations to be something, am I right?”

“Right.” Not that you knew the half of it, Alistair thought darkly. Not that being the daughter of a prestigious man repeatedly voted into the House of Arls was really anything when compared to being the bastard son of the late King. But sure. Sure, Delilah “gets it.”

He supposed that he should be grateful. Since she now knew his best kept secret, he felt exactly zero amounts of guilt for knowing what she ate for dinner three nights ago (Antivan Spicy Noodles that looked delicious, 38 likes). No need to fess up about stalking her now. There was no doubt in his mind that she would go home and scour the internet for him now.

“An Ogre-sized Brewed Mother will be five silvers and eleven bits, by the way,” he mumbled.

“Oh! Yeah.”

By the time the coins clinked into the till, Alistair regretted being short and the bitter things he had thought about her. Delilah wandered away more towards the pick-up counter, her phone in her hand, but Alistair found himself speaking anyways.

“It’s not really so bad. The whole…you know, thing. My parents, or whatever.” He rambled while he made her drink and didn’t bother looking up to check if she was even listening. Alistair decided he didn’t really want to know. “I kinda stopped paying attention to it, really. Some people have cared a lot about my parentage, but none of them were my, you know, actual parents, so, what’s the point? I try not to let it bother me.” Why was he saying this to someone he’d only met once before? Just because he was guilty about stalking her social media? Or because there was a slight chance that he could finally get these things that nagged him in the dead of night off his chest? “I figure if they don’t care about me, I shouldn’t care about them. I’m happy to just be…me, you know? I’m just Alistair. That idiot Grey Roaster who talks too much and… aaaaand spills secrets to total strangers. That’s who I am. That’s what I’m here for. Saving the world one Brewed Mother at a time.” He snapped the plastic lid on over the lip of the cup and tried to pick it up by the top to make sure it was on properly. When he was sure, he spun around to slide her drink over the counter and found himself face to face with Delilah.

She had been listening, and if he didn’t know any better, she looked…sad. Not pitying, not disdainful, not any of the kinds of emotions he had come to expect from people when they learned of his very own Tragic Backstory, just…a little moved. A little mournful. Her cool fingers brushed against his own as she took the coffee from him without breaking their locked gaze.

“I understand,” Delilah murmured after a moment. “And… and I’m happy that you’re you too, Alistair.”

He blinked. His mind wiped blank. He had no idea what to say to that. She was…happy for him? No one had ever been happy that he had abandoned his old life before. Even Duncan tried to push him to do something more with himself every now and again. Delilah’s support, even if she didn’t know it, meant more than any words he could think of to describe it. So, he didn’t say anything.

After what felt like several Ages smushed together all at once, Delilah bit her lip and turned away. He watched her disappear out the door again in stunned silence.

She started coming in a lot more often after that. So often, in fact, that Alistair was starting to piece together her schedule. Totally on accident of course, because he had refused to look at her MyPhylactery again until she wanted to send him a Bond. If she ever even wanted to. If they even got to that point.

Delilah came in most Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings, and some Thursday afternoons. She greeted him each time with a “Hey, Just-Alistair!”, chatted amicably until her drink was ready, and then she was off to class. She tried a few different things off the menu, but more often than not, she ordered a Brewed Mother; a fact that made a tiny flame of happiness light up in Alistair every time. She never mentioned his heritage again.

On a dull autumn Thursday when the grey clouds that always hung low over Ferelden seemed particularly thick and heavy, the bell over the door tinkled and Alistair looked up from his sweeping to find Delilah easing her way in with an armful of large books with faded leather covers.

“Do you need help?” Alistair asked, moving to lean his broom against the counter but Delilah answered faster.

“Nope! I’m good!” She lugged them to a table near the register and dropped them rather unceremoniously with a loud bang that echoed off the glass windows. “Oops, sorry.” She glanced around apologetically and when she realized there was no one else in the shop, she shrugged.

Alistair shook his head and laughed at her. She must have been much stronger than her height let on, he realized. He respected a woman that could bench press her weight in books. “The usual?” he asked, already reaching for a Hurlock cup and writing her name on it with a flourish. And a star. Always a star.

She appeared to consider for a second as she divided up her books into piles over the entire surface of the table and then answered, “Yes. Get me that Brewed Mother. I have a midterm paper to write!”

“Midterms?” Alistair asked in shock. He did the math quickly in his head. There was no way it was that far along in the semester already. “Isn’t it still too early for that?”

“It is,” she agreed, pulling her laptop case and several notebooks from her bag. “Dr. Mac Tir is notoriously picky about papers. He’s got a strict grading scale so he hands out prompts in the first week so that we can start our papers as soon as possible. He’s already given us our final too! Can you believe that??”

Shrugging, Alistair filled her cup with milk from the carton marked ‘druffalo’, set it back in the mini fridge and kicked the door closed. Even only meeting the dreaded Loghain once, Delilah’s story checked out in his mind. “Wish I could say no, but just that five-minute conversation I had with him took 10 years off my life.”

Delilah sniggered as he moved on to the steamer. “You sure all the coffee you drink while working here isn’t what’s responsible for that?”

Alistair allowed himself a smile for a brief moment before swallowing it and turning around to find the plastic lids. He worked hard to keep his face neutral and controlled. “Oh, I don’t like coffee.”

As predicted, Delilah was taken aback, her blue eyes bugging a little. Alistair bit his tongue to keep from laughing. “You…work at a coffee house. At The Grey Warden Coffee Roasters! It’s only the most famous international chain of cafés!”

Alistair let his own eyes go wide and pretended to be just as shocked. If he didn’t have to clean the mess up himself, he might have dropped her coffee. For comedic effect, of course. “What? I do??”

Her eyes narrowed at him and he suspected she was catching on, but Duncan appeared from the back room carrying a large box and spoke before either of them could.

“You won’t for long, Alistair, if you don’t charge her and help the other customers in line,” he growled as he passed by.

“Yes’ser, Café Commander Duncan, ser!”

His friend rolled his eyes and pulled a box cutter from his apron instead of replying.

Dancing back towards the register, Alistair checked that the lid was tight and handed it over. His heart skipped a beat when her fingers grazed his. He grinned. “One Brewed Mother for one brood…y…mother, you know, that made a lot more sense in my head until I said it.”

Delilah held out her handful of coins in her palm, but he waved her away.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. What’s one on the house for my favorite customer?” he told her with a wide dreamy smile, leaning on the counter to cup his chin in his hand.

“Alistair…”

“Did I ever mention to you how astute Duncan’s hearing is? I think it’s something to do with being Riviani. You know, on second thought, I will take those silvers, if it’s all the same to you…”

Handing them over and laughing, Delilah shook her head at him and warned, “Keep going on like this and you’ll get fired. Then what will you do?”

“Pft! Me? Fired?” Alistair shook his head and shot her what he hoped was a cocky grin. “Nah, Duncan needs me. I don’t think he’d know how to run the shop by himself, at this point. He makes me do all the work, you know.”

Duncan kicked at Alistair’s heels as he walked back to the store room with the empty box.

All customers taken care of, Alistair was free to bother his favorite patron, still bent as she was over her books, occasionally pausing to type something on her laptop. He grabbed the broom and unlatched the hook holding the counter between the registers in place in order to pretend to sweep around Delilah’s table.

“You solve that great mystery of wartime ethics yet?”

Delilah barked a short laugh and leaned back in her chair to look up at him. She put her arms over her head and stretched. Alistair realized too late that it gave him a clear angle down her shirt. Blushing, he averted his eyes and worked very intently on an invisible speck of dust on the floor that refused to be swept up. “No, have you?” he heard her reply.

“Oh, er, that old thing? Yeah. I solved that ages ago. I’m on to the secret of eternal youth now.”

When she laughed and her eyes met his, Alistair all but melted. He blushed again, but this time for a different reason. For a somersaulting stomach filled with butterflies sort of reason.

“Great! So you don’t mind writing my midterm paper for me, right?”

“Well, isn’t that plagiarism, dear Delilah?”

She shrugged and replied seriously, “At this point? Not if anybody knew about it.”

Alistair chewed his lip. He saw his moment, plain as day right there in front of him. I would think about writing that paper for you if you gave me your number. No, no. That came off too predatory. Maybe we can work out the details of the midterm exchange over dinner? No, too serious. Damn. The opportunity was there, he could sense it, but for the life of him, his brain wouldn’t make that last connection towards the perfect way to ask. And if he dawdled too long, the knowledge that he’d lose his chance looked over him like a dark cloud.

Sod it, man, speak.

“I-uhmmm.”

Light blue eyes turned up to his and Alistair lost track of what he was doing. He had a vague thought that maybe he would faint.

“I-I-I could, er, write it for you. Er, try to. Aaaaand we-we could, um. We could, um…”

Delilah waited patiently, expectantly, her face open. A small smile settled on her lips, and Alistair willed himself not to glance at them. Don’t you dare imagine kissing them. Don’t think about how soft they would be or how pleasant of a thing kissing Delilah would be. Don’t… no, don’t think about it.

You thought about it.

Alistair tried to clear his throat and made an awful noise that sounded more like a bleating ram than anything human. Delilah politely pretended not to notice.

“W-we could- er, I could bring it to you if we were somewhere else. If we met somewhere else, I mean. Like for coffee, or…”

Sweet Maker, you absolute dunce, why coffee, of all things—you work in a coffee shop, for crying out loud!

A touch of color began rising in her cheeks. “You mean… you would write my paper for me if we went on a date?”

Alistair started to nod but then her words washed over him. “N-no! I mean, the paper was…more of an excuse, really, I-I don’t—”

“Oh, so… just a date then?”

Alistair’s knees buckled and he didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded.

The smile spread across her face and her eyes lit up and danced the same way they had when she had first tried his favorite drink. These were good signs, weren’t they? No one glowed like that and then shot a man down. Not that he’d had enough experience to know but… but, Maker, he hoped. What he did know was that someone like him didn’t deserve to bask in her radiating warmth. Alistair drunk from her anyway, letting all the lovely facets of her fill him and make him light. Her kindness, the way she laughed, the brightness of her, it was everything to him. And fumbling and awkward as he was, Delilah was going to say ‘yes’ to him. They were going to make plans and go on a date and maybe she was going to choose to be with him. Him, of all people. Just-Alistair and Delilah Cousland.

The door to the café banged open and both Alistair and Delilah leapt out of their skins. Her wide eyes fixed on the door before he could turn and she uttered a quick squeak of alarm, scrambling to get back to work on her laptop. Alistair’s brain was sluggish in making connections, but the voice that spoke nailed him to the floor.

“Ah. If it isn’t the youngest Cousland,” Loghain drawled, his footsteps drawing nearer to the table. Like flipping a switch, Alistair’s mood changed as ice shot through his veins. If he didn’t know any better, he would say the temperature in the shop just dropped several degrees, even after the door closed to the chilly outside.

He didn’t want to turn and face the last person he wanted to see during a conversation he’d been working up to for weeks, so Alistair closed his eyes and shouted every curse in every language he knew in his head.

Loghain swooped in on Delilah like a hawk on its prey, his shrewd eyes roving over the books on the table. Even his head turned like a bird’s to better read each gilded title. “I take it you’re in need of subpar coffee in order to finalize your midterm paper. I needn’t remind you that you have little over two weeks to turn it in.”

Scoffing, Alistair echoed, “Subpar coffee?” as though he’d never been privy to a more grievous insult to his person before.

The other man looked up at him as though noticing Alistair’s existence for the first time. “Don’t you have something else you should be doing besides eavesdropping, boy? Sweeping, perhaps. Or, better yet, making my coffee. Same as last time: darkest roast with as many espresso shots as you can give me, black, no sugar.”

There wasn’t really anything else for it. Alistair knocked the bristles of the broom against his boots for a second, debating saying something else, but Loghain wasn’t paying him any mind anymore. He’d make Loghain’s coffee. And if Duncan wasn’t looking, maybe he’d spit in it too. Wouldn’t that be nice?

As he stalked away, Alistair heard Delilah stammer a response he couldn’t understand over his heartbeat in his ears, but he did catch Loghain’s reply.

The dark-haired man grunted. “I hope so. If it’s anything like your brother’s papers, I highly doubt it shall be anywhere near “ready to go” without more serious work. But given your source material, I’m willing to be open to the possibility of being surprised. We shall see.”

“Ser,” Alistair barked, drawing Loghain’s raptor gaze from Delilah. “Six silvers and fourty-eight bits. For your subpar coffee.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up and Loghain reached into his pocket to pull out the coins. He crossed to the register. “So, you’re always mouthy, I see—” his eyes flicked to the nametag and then back to his face, “—Alistair. You really shouldn’t speak to your clientele that way. It discourages them from returning.”

Alistair’s face hardened. He didn’t know what it was but something about this man made his whole body shake with anger. He hadn’t felt this much hatred since he was dumped at the doorstep of a Chantry boarding school by a family that didn’t want him. He was aware his voice would shake if he wasn’t careful, and Alistair wanted to be sure nothing was open to Loghain’s interpretation. Whether Duncan would approve or not, Alistair decided right then and there that this man was unwelcome in his store. “That is the idea. The only clientele I want, are the ones who appreciate my work. If you think it’s so subpar, I suggest you don’t come back. Ser.”

“I might just heed your suggestion. But then…perhaps this swill will grow on me, and I’ll come by more often.”

“Pray it doesn’t. The doors are locked, as far as you’re concerned.”

Loghain gave Alistair something impossibly close to a wry smile and handed over his coins. With one hand, Alistair dumped them into the till without counting and with the other he passed Loghain his disgusting coffee.

“Good lad,” Loghain said softly. His eyes bored into Alistair’s, but Alistair refused to look away. He didn’t even dare blink. He believed with all his soul that blinking would mean weakness. “You remind me of someone I used to know. From a long time ago.” He smirked and raised the cup to his lips. Alistair watched the steam curl from the small opening in his peripherals. He knew good and well that was fresh coffee from the pot and he had dumped it into Loghain’s cup scalding, but the man drank it anyway. A long drag of it. “Wonder why that could be,” he murmured.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

With a little shrug, Loghain turned away and Alistair all but sagged onto the counter.

“Good day, Delilah, and good luck,” Loghain said to her as he passed her table and headed out the door.

 Merry Christmas, Axel!!    ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ヽ(´ ▽ ` )ﾉ  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I’ll have part 2 ASAP!!!

[tonyspep]

and possibly i like the thrill (of under me you quite so new)

a/n: friends to lovers is my favorite thing in the whole world, give me a girl seeing a boy in a new way or vice versa and i will die every time like i've never seen it lol. this was inspired by the poem i like my body when it's with your body by ee cummings. i imagined richard's friend who is a writer to be naomi scott who was in the remake of aladdin and will be in the new charlie's angels. also richard's sisters are mentioned throughout the fic, i don't know their names so i made them up; they are beth and evie.

~*~and possibly i like the thrill~*~

(of under me you quite so new)

pairing: richard madden/you

summary: it is so quite new a thing/or they've been friends for as long as they can remember, now – over the course of three days – they take the leap and become something more

rating: m

well, it seems to me that the best relationships – the ones that last – are frequently the ones rooted in friendship. you know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. like a switch has been flicked somewhere. and the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.

gillian anderson -

part one of three

[day one]

You couldn't understand why you were nervous, so nervous that you had gone through two bags of crisps and were currently working through a third as you waited for Richard to pick you up at the airport. There was absolutely no reason for you to be nervous, it's not as if you were some starstruck fangirl who waxed rhapsodic about his bluer than blue eyes or the cut of his jawline. You were his – literally – oldest friend. The two of you having been joined at the hip – basically – since you were born, just a few hours apart in the very same hospital in Renfrewshire and then just two houses down from each other until you both moved away – him to London to pursue acting – and you to Paris for writing.

Now he was Mr. Mega Famous Superstar, everyone in your little town crowing on and on about Robb Stark had a pint at the pub and sat in this very chair.

And you had done well for yourself, also. Starting out low on the totem pole at French Vogue to writing a weekly thing and celebrity profiles before deciding to go free lance and compose a book of observational essays, which – somehow – made the New York Times bestseller list. But that was nothing compared to being recognized all over the world by millions of people.

You couldn't help but shake your head from the stray thought.

While you were far from blind – his puppy fat had long since melted away, revealing the handsome face the public had come to know – he was still just Dickie, your oldest friend who you took baths with, who devoured your mother's chicken korma with gusto you couldn't even manage and your first kiss behind the swings of your primary school when you were five.

Or at least that's what you had to keep reminding yourself of more and more every time you saw him again.

Because the last few years, what was so obvious to the world at large, was getting harder and harder for you to ignore.

The broadness of his shoulders, the obvious strength in his lean but toned arms, how he had a bum a quarter could bounce off of. That streak of pure silver among his tight auburn curls, the way his eyes crinkled as he laughed, his lush lips forming that oh so charming grin with ease.

oh, god you thought, panic setting it. You were basically on the verge of being like one of those people who typed those thirst tweets that Buzzfeed made him read. Richard Madden could run me over with a bus and I'd still suck that dick or whatever and now you were going to spend the next three days in Cannes with him... alone.

fuck you cursed just as your senses were suddenly assaulted by a warm crisp scent of pine and spice and man, making your thighs involuntarily clench underneath you as you prepared for the deep rasp you knew was coming.

“Surrender that extra bag of crisps I know you have and I won't cause a scene, little miss,”

little miss, little miss, little miss...

It shouldn't have – it's something he's called you for so long now, something playful and affectionate because though he isn't tall by the standard of most men, he towers over your tiny barely five foot frame – but your wayward imagination takes over before you can stop it.

The two words – in your head – are rougher, deeper – like a growl from the deepest part of his chest that you definitely haven't thought of and when the bristles of his beard brush against the smooth skin of your cheek, you suck in a deep breath reminding yourself that this was the same man who at age thirteen ran to the corner store for a hot water bottle and emergency tampons for you, that he was your oldest and most dearest friend and you shouldn't be thinking about him pounding you – your legs wrapped around that criminally narrow waist – as he called you little miss.

You turn, expected to be confronted by his ridiculously blue eyes, and your more than thankful that they're hidden by stylish aviators. You laugh at the cap on his head, plucking it off and setting it on your own head as you stick out your tongue, falling easily into the familiar routine of best friend.

“Put that back where it belongs, miss or I'll have to tell the lovely Dr. Chokalingam how the polite, lovely girl she raised is now a little hellion with no regard for manners,” He threatened, flashing those perfectly white teeth as his lush lips twisted into a smile that was too charming for your own good.

You were about to retort – something tart on the tip of your tongue – when suddenly you found yourself swept into his arms. Your face fell into the crook of his neck and you couldn't resist breathing him in, that familiar smell of spice (cinnamon) and pine with that burst of citrus (orange) underneath and something completely Richard engulfed you, and when he pulled back – lifting his aviators – and there were his stupidly blue eyes staring at you, your stomach swooped and it was suddenly filled with butterflies.

“I've missed you,” So honest, so sincere like only he can be and you can't stop the shudder that rolls through your lithe frame.

As he watched you bound into the lavish hotel lobby, your fingers slipping from his as your wide coffee colored eyes took in every inch, Richard didn't know how he was going to survive these next three days.

You were even more beautiful than he remembered, the warmth of the Southern French sunlight bathing you in a glow that had his heart tripping in his chest. You were dressed more than appropriately for the heat the island was known for, the denim cut offs revealing the length of your shapely legs. Though, small in stature, your legs – somehow – seemed to go for miles finally ending in dainty feet that were slid into worn flip flops revealing your gold painted toes that sparkled.

His cap was back on his head – after a bit of a playful wrestling match the two of you had – and now your hair was twisted into a messy top knot, several of the inky black strands framing your face, and he could feel his fingers flex by his side, the want to brush them away and then seal his lips across your pert raspberry pout growing stronger by the second. His feet easily separated the small distance between you, his hand reaching for your wrist and as soon as his fingers closed over your skin, he twirled you, unable to stop himself.

It was so hard to ignore your body pressed against his, your pert breasts pillowed against his chest, the flare of your hips aligned with his waist and your head tucked perfectly under his chin.

“I missed you too,” And it was clearly his imagination because why would you sound breathless around him? He was your oldest mate; the chubby boy who did things like get you emergency tampons and hot water bottles from the corner store, not someone you would ever think of as a viable romantic partner.

Little did he know as he bent his head forward, nose nuzzling the appealing curve of your slim shoulder, you were thinking the same thing. That he would never see you as a viable romantic partner.

In the suite, the studio had booked there were two queen sized beds, but by the end of the holiday the two beds would be pushed together, neither of you knew that yet, though.

“Do you ever get used to it,” You asked softly after you and Richard slipped out of the hotel's back entrance through it's enormous kitchen. “Having to do this? Sneak about? How if a pap snapped away, I'd be called the latest flavor of heartthrob Richard Madden's month?” You tease, nudging his hip with yours, purposefully keeping your voice light, even though your stomach drops.

You can't help but think how lonely it must be for him, now that he's – you can't stop your cheeks from warming – some kind of sex symbol.  Which leads you to thinking about the revolving door of women that have come in and out of his life since he and Jenna finally split. All of them tall, all of them drop dead gorgeous with bodies you could never compete with no matter how many spin classes you took or how many miles you ran.

You bite your lip, casting a look at him from underneath your lashes and your heart aches as you watch sadness creep into his chiseled features. His blue eyes go dull, turning a subtle grey and he shakes his head, carding his fingers through his curls.

“Not really,” He answers, faint blush creeping into his perfect cheekbones. “I don't see myself the way everyone else seems to,” A dry chuckle. “Though, if a pap snapped away at you and I,” There's that charming grin again and his eyes have returned to their usual bright state. That happy blue you could drown in. “I can't say,” He's doing that thing where he stares straight into your eyes and your whole world melts away, leaving only the two of you and your stomach goes swoopy and there are the butterflies and you don't know how you're standing. “I'd be the least bit miffed to be listed as one of the flavors of the month for New York Times best-selling author Ariana Chokalingam.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, that wonderful brogue full of such sincerity, you don't know how you're breathing. Under the faint glow of the lights from the hotel, he looks very much like the young prince he claims he's happy not to be cast as anymore. He's so handsome, you feel as though the French Police should be called and he should be towed away because his looks make him as dangerous as any criminal roaming about.

You stop your wayward thoughts and jab him square in the ribs, breaking yourself out of your little fantasy. “Come off it,” You chide. “I don't have flavors of the month. The paps would just tag me as a mystery brunette on your arm. It was just a book of essays, Dickie,” You roll your eyes and give him another jab. “The cover was mostly pink.”

“Don't,” His tone is fierce and the muscle in the cut of his jaw twitches and clenches as if he's back on the set of Bodyguard playing David Budd. “Don't do that,” His voice changes going gentle, almost pleading as you feel his large palm cup the right side of your face, forcing you to look into his too-captivating eyes. “Ana,” Something only he calls you, everyone else around you defaulting to Ari or your full name. “If it was just a book of essays would so many people have bought it? First in hard cover and then in paper back. Vera and Roshi couldn't have bought every copy. If Beth hadn't told me I was ridiculous, I would have beat them to the punch, anyway,” He laughs and his eyes are sparkling, a boyish and bashful look crossing his handsome face. “Evie will be the first to tell you, I hadn't read a book cover to cover since secondary school when I was required to.”

“Stoooop,” You whine, shoving at him and before you can shove him again, he's caged you in his arms and nuzzles his face against your neck. “It's true. I'll call them right now and prove it,” He insists and you giggle as you squirm in his embrace. “C'mon, Romeo,” You sigh, finally managing to twist out of his hold. “Show me what mega stars do on holiday. Writers only get into the hottest parties and whatnot if they're on assignment y'know.”

Le Vogue was Taron's suggestion after Richard had sent his good friend a quick text. The music – electronica and house – reminded him of the music they used for Ibiza. The club itself was intimate with close quarters, at least from what he was able to gather as all too quickly the the two of you were whisked to the private era, a velvet rope separating you and the other VIPs from the public.

Under the strobe lights, you were even more beautiful to him, and he found himself slipping back into being almost cripplingly shy as if he were nothing more than a school boy.

The flimsy dress you had chosen to wear – after changing from your cutoffs and tee – wasn't helping at all, of course.

The fabric is satin, the straps thin and sitting high on your slim shoulders while the satin clings to your pert breasts emphasizing how they would fit perfectly in the heft of his palms and the ribbon wrapped around your waist shows off how tiny that part of your body is while its slit reaches the top of your thigh, teasing him to helplessness every time you so much as take a step let alone dance.

It's the music and the alcohol, he thinks as you drag him to the floor, grinding and sliding against him, head thrown back to the steady thump of the bass, exposing the wonderful length of your neck. He wants nothing more than for this to be real, for you to want him as he wants you. If not for the French beer giving you a buzz, no one knowing either of you and how it's typical for anyone to be loose with their inhibitions while on holiday, you wouldn't be doing this; touching him, your fingers carding through his hair, then sliding down the front of his body before swiveling your hips in such a way he's not sure he remembers his own name.

How early it is when you finally leave, Richard doesn't know all he knows is you're thoroughly smashed, like utterly blitzed and tanked up and because you're in such a state, you're clingier than you would be otherwise. You can't stop touching him; your hands blindly groping over and underneath his clothes, your roaming hands – at one point – actually grip his ass which makes you howl with laughter as you nearly topple over on your unsteady feet, the heels on your feet doing you no favors in keeping you upright.

Despite being wasted, you still smell of daisies and clementines and when you fall into bed, hiccuping and mumbling how your mother would be thoroughly disappointed in you, he laughs and sets about the task of getting you comfortable to sleep off your drunken stupor.

He's careful of not revealing more of your luscious mocha skin than he has to as he tries to slip your dress away and put on your pajamas. It doesn't help that he's replacing this devil of a dress with shorts that can't possibly cover your ass and a top that doesn't seem like it will cover your entire front, some of your stomach – flat and smooth – will surely be visible, and he curses his parents for raising him to be such a fucking gentleman.

“Nooooooooo,” You whine after he's finally gotten you changed. You're grabbing for him again and he bats your insistent hands away, bending and murmuring as he pushes back several strands of your hair, “Sleep mo leannan,” He urges, his voice soft and gentle.

“Staaaaaaaaay,” Another whine as your velvet lashes reveal unfocused and bleary coffee eyes. But they're soft and warm, somehow, as well and he's never been able to resist you. Going back to when you were children and you always got the last crisp in the bag or the last piece of his Gran's homemade shortbread from the tin. “If you insist, my lady,” Bowing gallantly and you laugh – loud and brash – your head thrown back as if it's the funniest thing you've heard and after stripping to his boxer briefs, he grabs an old tee shirt and slips it on before climbing into bed with you.

You cling to him like a limpet, your every inch pressed against his and just before he falls asleep you murmur, “Thanks for staying, Dickie.”

“Anything for you, Ana.”

a/n: mo leannan is scottish for my sweetheart

@bluesfortheredj @nishanki1

[ghastlymemes]

SHITTY HOROSCOPES STARTERS feel free to edit/change prompts as you see fit! more prompts under the cut. tw for cursing, mentions of violence, and mentions of death.

BOOK ONE

❝ holy fucking shit. just. holy shit. what the fuck. ❞

❝ nobody really knows the nuances of what you get up to in your spare time, and honestly, they’re probably better off that way. ❞

❝ busy yourself with the affairs of the living for once. ❞

❝ the answer is no. ❞

❝ ohhh, boy. you. fuck you. yes, you specifically. ❞

❝ delete your search history. ❞

❝ please practice blinking, as others can be unsettled by your inhuman ability to maintain an unbreakable stare during casual conversation. ❞

❝ what did you ever do to deserve this? in all probability, something terrible. ❞

❝ you are a crayon. get out of the toolbox. ❞

❝ none will love the butcher. don’t take it too personally. ❞

❝ some relationships, like warts, can be handled with the tactful application of liquid nitrogen. ❞

❝ take a long shower. wash your hair. wash the clothes you were wearing. wash the memories from your mind and body. ❞

BOOK TWO

❝ frostbite is considerably difficult to heal from. ❞

❝ there is poetry in brutal efficiency. ❞

❝ people would take your raging far more seriously if you weren’t crying the entire time. ❞

❝ what made you so vindictive? ❞

❝ some bodies may be temples, but all are ruins at your feet. ❞

❝ your contempt will always taste like grief. ❞

❝ you are the bone-deep fury of an abscessed tooth. ❞

❝ You are notorious for rubbing salt in the wound. cheap vodka in the wound. battery acid in the wound! ❞

❝ vehicular arson is not the answer. ❞

❝ hate is a verb. ❞

BOOK THREE

❝ the sooner you accept your impending expiration, the sooner you can stop trying to swallow the sun. ❞

❝ embrace the inevitable. snuggle with the inevitable. take the inevitable out to a nice, candlelit dinner. ❞

❝ there are forces outside of your control. most of them don’t care for you. ❞

❝ when it all goes to hell, just remember that it’s what’s inside that counts - though not many would find you very appetizing. ❞

❝ not all things have significance, which is scary. the things you overlooked tend to have the most, which is scarier. ❞

❝ your teeth are only porcelain, your ribcage simply glass. like all delicate things, they can know no permanence. ❞

❝ in time you’ll learn that ‘just’ and ‘right’ only mean the same thing when they’re coming from very specific people. ❞

❝ you may not want to change, but the world is unforgiving, and will do it for you anyway. ❞

❝ sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places. ❞

❝ sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places - what the fuck is it doing between your teeth? ❞

❝ nothing can stay. ❞

❝ you can put all the flowers in your mouth you want, but dying is dying and rot is rot. ❞

❝ loneliness is a fracture that never heals quite right. ❞

BOOK FOUR

❝ lay them to rest. ❞

❝ they are there, hovering nervously. you will watch the skies. you will wait. ❞

❝ eat the other. ❞

❝ there will be scrapes and sutures, viciousness and victory. ❞

❝ no loose ends. ❞

❝ an eye for an eye. a tooth for a tooth. a knife for the ribs. ❞

❝ you will not be swayed by the morally destitute. ❞

❝ decay will feed the bloom. ❞

❝ devour death like crows, for all the feathers between your teeth. ❞

❝ twisting, screaming, uncompromising. every inch, every iota. ❞

❝ once, answers were found in mouths, bathtubs, and bottles. this time around, get inventive. ❞

BOOK FIVE

❝ romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic, and recommended. ❞

❝ contrary to popular belief, it’s unwise to temper creatures of flesh and bone like steel. ❞

❝ one bad apple ruins a bunch. two bad apples leaves no witnesses. ❞

❝ you know it’s the real deal when you can see past the meatsuit and into the yawning dread. ❞

❝ break your teeth on love. ❞

❝ when people ask for someone ‘out of this world,’ they often don’t mean it literally. ❞

❝ when it’s good, it’s great. when it’s great, it’s a small calamity. ❞

❝ you are every mother’s cautionary tale. ❞

❝ harpoons, while more effective than arrows, are not as wieldy. ❞

❝ a study in complacency. an essay on sensibility. a dissertation of disenchantment.  ❞

❝ make up your fucking mind. ❞

❝ there are plenty of fish in the sea. some just happen to be imbibed with mercury. ❞

BOOK SIX

❝ your humanity is the biggest burden you will wear. ❞

❝ decorating your meltdowns is good and all, but a trainwreck is a trainwreck, and it might be time to get a paramedic. ❞

❝ they say ‘there is nothing to fear but fear itself,’ but you have seen yourself in the mirror. ❞

❝ you may have been gutted, but your mouth is soft, your tongue is silver, and your teeth are gemstones cut to size. ❞

❝ it’s less like biting off more than you can chew, and more like dislocating your jaw. ❞

❝ even specters can tire. ❞

❝ seeing yourself for who you really are would be great if you knew where to start looking. ❞

❝ it pays to kill with kindness when you’re your own worst enemy. ❞

❝ you’re only armed to the teeth because you’re more brittle than you care to admit. ❞

❝ your ego cannot afford cremation or caskets. ❞

❝ frequent tastes of your own medicine can get poisonous real quick. ❞

❝ self-reflection is important! whether you like what you see is up for debate. whether it can be contained in a dark basement is another matter entirely. ❞

BOOK SEVEN

❝ you are a quiet god, and your hunger is cavernous. ❞

❝ at times your body is simply a prison laid in gold. ❞

❝ death, dust, party, repeat. ❞

❝ devour the monsters, and you can call any place home. ❞

❝ you’re only as lucky as your expectations are low. ❞

❝ worse than having many secrets is having no secrets at all. ❞

❝ if seeing is believing, you might be in some trouble. ❞

❝ suspend belief. expel fear. throw reason into a frigid cell, never to be seen again. ❞

❝ killing the monsters is the easy bit. it’s finding them that’s the hard part. ❞

❝ there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters. ❞

❝ a mouthful of ashes bested by a life of smoke and mirrors. ❞

❝ what’s to be gained from keeping the heaviest treasures between your teeth? ❞

BOOK EIGHT

❝ you might not be afraid to die, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready. ❞

❝ you were a plague none were prepared for. ❞

❝ you are the mind and the malady, the medicine and the machine. ❞

❝ assholery is incurable, unfortunately. ❞

❝ nobody’s going to notice the difference between you pushing dandelions or daisies, so leave them something worth talking about. ❞

❝ there’s no rule stating that parasites can’t be pretty. ❞

❝ you aren’t obligated to be anyone’s cure. ❞

❝ some are the bandage, some are the knife, some get creative. ❞

❝ soothe what you can, fight what you can’t. ❞

❝ the only difference between a pathogen and a person is that one is far more creative with how they’ll infect you. ❞

BOOK NINE

❝ stranger things have happened. like you. you are happening all the time, and should probably stop. ❞

❝ let none be the noose. ❞

❝ take what you can and run. ❞

❝ gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking, and so like everything else you love. ❞

❝ understanding builds bridges, suffering grows gardens, antipathy sets both on fire for shits and giggles. ❞

❝ there is a variety of sadness that makes a home in your guts and never quite leaves. ❞

❝ you could have been anybody, operating this body. the good news is you won! the bad news is you’re stuck with it. ❞

❝ being loathsome and lovely in equal measure is probably a talent, somewhere. ❞

❝ why fear the dead, when you could fear the living? corpses in motion, cruelty and kindness. ❞

❝ if you’re forging your own path, be prepared to light your own pyre. ❞

❝ what possessed you to come this far? no, really. was it cute? ❞

❝ you can’t wrestle apologies from the sea or the sun, but by fuck, are you sure going to try. ❞

BOOK TEN

❝ pick a place and die there. ❞

❝ i know you mean well. ❞

❝ may fortune favor the fuckups. ❞

❝ remarkable that one plane of existence can host so much - and so little - distance. the spaces between people, ideals, fingertips, the sea and the sky. ❞

❝ learn when it’s best to bite your tongue. temper the nest of hornets inside your loveless mouth. ❞

❝ i worry. ❞

❝ time sours, rots, renews, and sours again. ❞

❝ grief and growth live hand-in-hand. ❞

❝ sleeping, like dying, delivers you from one world to the next - to rest in crypts and wake in gardens. ❞

❝ words in couples carry weight. ‘fuck you.’ ‘hell no.’ ‘oh, god.’ ‘sorry, mom.’ ❞

❝ make room for small, fragile things, even with bones of cement and a leaden heart. ❞

❝ you win some, you lose some. you lie, cheat, and swindle some. you vanish on a crisp winter’s day, never to be seen again. ❞

BOOK ELEVEN

❝ quiet reflection is next to impossible if your mental landscape is one long scream. ❞

❝ you inspire me to be better! ❞

❝ you inspire me to be better! a better ‘what’ is up for interpretation; person? arsonist? alien? ❞

❝ we don’t know where you came from, but we need you to go back. ❞

❝ the dark doesn’t intend to hurt you, only the creatures who plot during the cruel, cold light of day. ❞

❝ i lived better when i was ignorant of the sun, tucked away in your chest. ❞

❝ there’s asking for forgiveness, there’s asking for permission, and then there’s saying ‘fuck it’ and doing what you may. ❞

❝ if only it were easy, to wish and want for nothing. if only you weren’t less human for it, wishing and wanting for nothing. ❞

❝ in the end, there is no blaze of glory. ❞

❝ love to distraction, die due to carelessness. ❞

❝ in the span of your life, there’s plenty to avoid; the wicked, the merciless, and the things you want for no reason other than wanting them. ❞

❝ you are dazzling and terrifying. these words are not as removed from one another as you may think. ❞

❝ flirt with death, tease the inevitable, give the void a saucy wink. ❞

BOOK TWELVE

❝ things to bother believing in: love, switchblades, and extraterrestrials. ❞

❝ let the record show that they were ill-equipped to deal with you. which is unsurprising, because you’re ill-equipped to deal with you. ❞

❝ you’ll be fertilizer regardless; might as well have interesting stories for the dirt. ❞

❝ there is an exhaustion that comes with living in an embrace like a vice, a kiss like a canker sore. ❞

❝ fear is an absence of understanding. horror is the act of understanding perfectly. ❞

❝ labor in love, toil in tenderness. ❞

❝ your love will always be rooted deeper than any grave. ❞

❝ you’ve seen your downfall spelled out in another’s bones. ❞

❝ the victor spoils, the loser learns. ❞

❝ the body is rot waiting to happen. ❞

❝ you will have never loved for nothing. ❞

❝ the aftermath of your life affords you three real options; obscurity, legend, or horror story. ❞

[mashitandsmashit]

America’s Got Talent: Season 14 - Auditions 6

First of all, Ra’ed was Ra’obbed! They will NEVER have a brilliant singer/songwriter like him on this show again! M. Bison never looked so FABULOOOOUUUUSSSS!!!

Kidding aside, let’s talk about our final audition, and then we’ll reflect on these auditions in general and discuss what to expect moving ahead...

So here goes!

10: The Sentimentalists. I know these two! They were some of the caretakers of the Baudelaire orphans! Boy did Count Olaf have to jump through hoops to trick THESE folks! But seriously, I find them both very entertaining, especially quirky/creepy bellhop lady...But as the judges pointed out, the tricks were lacking, and we’ve seen pretty much everything they had to offer before...They really did feel like the bargain bin Clairvoyants...I hope they improve, because I like THEM...I just don’t like the act yet...

9: Gonzo. He’s come a long way since his Muppet days...And he never looked so good! (Though I do wonder how things are going with him and Camilla...) I guess he’s dropped the usual daredevil stunts to...play the tambourine! Anyway, this was amusing, but I’ve seen other acts this season that had a little more of that silly charm...Still, that stone face and sexy outfit added a lot!

8: Matthew Richardson. Probably the best Cyr wheel acrobat we’ve seen so far...But it’s not like it was such a high bar in the first place! Don’t get me wrong, a LOT of practice must go into all this...It’s just nothing that’s gonna stick with me...This was impressive, just not super-memorable...Though I’m sure plenty of ladies are already getting their phones ready to vote for the good-looking underwear model in the glittery paint!

7: Olivia Calderon. Howie says this isn’t his cup of tea...even though back in Season 7, he gave the Wildcard to that mariachi kid who ALSO sang “My Way”! Whatever, the judges are inconsistent, what else is new? Regardless, while she didn’t hit every note perfectly, I still really enjoyed her singing and look forward to seeing *insert “Coco” reference here*!

6: Luke Islam. Surprise, surprise, Julie’s Golden Buzzer is another singer...I would have liked a LITTLE more variety, just one more non-singer outside the violin kid (and maybe a girl...Kinda interesting that this year’s GBs are proving to be a bit of a sausage fest, seeing that the majority of them are usually female, preferably of the preadolescent variety...) But despite all that, I’ll let Julie have this one, as this kid is both very likable and very talented! He may need some coaching before he’s ready for Broadway, but he’s on his way...Until then, he’s ready for AGT!

5: Kara with a K. Oh look, it’s the Southern Melissa McCarthy! I guess when in doubt, keep talking and sooner or later a joke or two will hit...Also helps if you pack some fast food in your cleavage! Anyway, while this lady could potentially become annoying, for now I would say she gave me the most chuckles as well as entertainment out of all of the stand-up comedians in this round! And she sure knows how to split...as well as fall down!

4: Duo MainTenanT. NOW these acrobatic acts are gettin’ steamy! I bet couples everywhere are watching this and whipping out their notebooks! Only from France, mon cheri! I see a lot of potential with these two, though whether or not they reach that potential is yet to be seen...

3: Revolution Queens. It’s like Malevo, but female and with more screaming! I think Malevo even used that same song in one of their performances...(So is Marilyn Manson, like, a thing in Argentina?) I still hold to my opinion that nothing beats just letting the drums, shoes and whips make the music, no backing-track involved, which Malevo spoiled us with for their first performance...So with that, they peaked too early...As for these ladies, while I’ve mostly seen this all before from Male-vo (Get it?), it is new seeing women do it...And I don’t think I’ve seen any of the men swing a whip with their mouths! Either way, I’m willing to give them a chance!

2: Chris Klafford. Who knew the Amazing Atheist had such a beautiful voice! This man has effectively dethroned Charlotte Summers as the best overall singer of the auditions. “Imagine” is a difficult song to both display one’s voice and make unique, but he pulled it off! I can now officially root for Lamont Landers to get knocked out by this guy (both figuratively AND literally! I mean look at the guy! He’s almost as big as Terry! I’m sure he’s sweet and gentle most of the time, but I would not want to get on his bad side, much less a nerd like Lamont! I wonder what it would be like if he, Terry, Ra’ed and the guy from Bir Khalsa joined into one group! All I gotta say is beware, right? I mean it would make for one hell of a wrestling troupe and-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEtm_Q2LK9g Okay, okay!)

1: Robert Finley. Looks like the Masqueraders left a man behind...While the previous entry has a more unique and polished voice, this cool cat also has an impressive voice for his age, plus the bonus of having written the song (and it was a pretty damn good song, if I do say so myself!) And as it turns out, this man is no joke: https://www.amazon.com/Goin-Platinum-Robert-Finley/dp/B076188VCZ Not only is he dropping albums, he’s even been working with the guy from the Black Keys, which is yet more automatic cool points! It’s hard to say how far he’ll make it in this competition despite how awesome he is, because the competition is STACKED! But for now, he took the stage, wrapped it up in bacon, and SIZZLED!!!

This last audition was pretty singer-centric, but I overall really liked all of the singers, and there were some pretty solid variety acts as well! Not quite the best audition, but not the weakest either!

And that about wraps it up (in bacon) for this season’s auditions, and I gotta say, it was quite solid! Everyone who made it (and were concentrated on) felt justified in some way or another...Even the stupid acts were all amusing, and even the singers who I wasn’t big on were at least in some way interesting or special...And what’s more, Simon did a pretty good job weeding out the trite! I guess he’s good for something after all...He just needed a little time to get into the swing of it...

And while the Golden Buzzers weren’t QUITE as varied as I would have liked, they do all have some kind of star quality to them, and I can see all of them earning a place in the finals, assuming they don’t cancel each other out...

But as it is, Kodi Lee IS the would-be winner of the season...While I knew he would go far, I didn’t think of him as the potential winner at first...And then something happened: Everyone kept talking about him! It’s just like what happened with artists like Kevin Skinner and Grace VanderWaal; They won by the power of their influence!

That said, after last season, I wouldn’t rule out the chances of an upset...But for that to happen, there would have to be a sizable backlash against Kodi, like with Courtney Hadwin last season...Again, I’m convinced that Shin Lim was NOT supposed to win...He was probably always meant to be the runner-up or something...But because Courtney got such a backlash by the end, he was simply the next one down...But all the better for him, right?

Anyway, we’ll worry about all of that later...For now, we have Judge Cuts to look forward to...I guess stay tuned for a list of predictions...It seems like all of the acts that appeared in the “Best of Auditions” episode are candidates for Golden Buzzers (especially the ones who already have one)! But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Right now, my best guess for next week is that Brad Paisley will give it to Sophie Pecora, but we’ll wait for the other acts to be announced and see if there is anyone else who would appeal to him...Or he could just pick something unexpected like the dog act or something; I WAS wrong about the other country singer guest judges in the past...

Until then, I’ll keep you all posted on other candidates as the list continues to be updated...

Edit: Okay, the full line-up has been announced! Naturally, there’s no point in predicting any of the acts that were skimmed or skipped over in the auditions making it; Probably the only one who has even a SLIGHT shot is Jecko, but only because we saw a bit more of his act than the others...

Otherwise, I’ve counted eleven acts that HAVE been properly focused on in the auditions, which means that four of them will be eliminated (or more if they actually DO decide to put through some lesser-knowns...)

I guess I’ll start with the singers: There are three legitimate contenders in the category, who are all legitimate contenders for the game in general, each in different ways...We have Sophie Pecora, the soulful songwriter, Chris Klafford, arguably the best overall singer of the season, and Ndlovu Youth Choir, who could potentially go down as the best choir in the history of the show. I’m feeling pretty confident that all three will advance, and for one of them by means of Paisley’s Golden Buzzer...As predictable as it would be for yet another choir to get a GB, I’d say Ndlovu deserves it the most, though I guess I wouldn’t mind either of the other two (that said, Sophie will REALLY have to up her game to justify it over the high bar that the others have set).

Berywam falls under the “If they don’t make it, I’ll be pissed” category, and I’m feeling pretty confident for Lukas & Falco.

And then we have the ones who are in a slightly tougher position...Let’s start with the acrobats: There are three of them in this show, and they all involve shirtless dudes (that’s important!) One of them is sure to make it! That said, Duo Togni is out since we only concentrated on them in the auditions for a second...So that just leaves Matthew Richardson and the Messoudi Brothers. Simon did tell the former that there needs to be more in the next round, which puts some pressure on him. But at the end of the day, I think it all comes down to which of them puts on the best performance...

The Sentimentalists also have pressure placed on them from the criticism they got from both Howie AND Simon...But since they’re competing against one or two other magic acts, and they’re fairly interesting characters, they’ll probably make it regardless...

The same cannot be said for the Emerald Belles who are probably already on Howie’s chopping block...It could go either way for them...

I WOULD consider Kevin Schwartz to be a contender, but I can’t help but compare this season’s comedians to last year’s...This year’s main comedians to consider are him, Ryan Niemiller, Jackie Fabulous and Kara with a K. I guess it’s debatable whether Kara or Jackie is this year’s Vicki Barbolak, and which one’s Carmen Lynch, but Ryan definitely feels like Samuel J. Comroe...and Kevin...feels like Oliver Graves...Maybe they won’t do it COMPLETELY like last season, but I still wonder...

And finally, we have Andy Rowell, who as I said before is at a serious risk of getting pigeonholed...Maybe he’ll find a way out of it, but I’m not holding my breath...

So with all that said, here’s my most educated guess on who will make it next week:

1: Berywam

2: Chris Klafford

3: Lukas & Falco

4: Matthew Richardson/Messoudi Brothers

5: Ndlovu Youth Choir (Golden Buzzer)

6: Sophie Pecora

7: The Sentimentalists

We’ll see how accurate my guess is...next week!

[scrapyardboyfriends]

Jenny’s Belated Live Blogging - 7th March 2019

- You know...I would be upset but...this was kind of my big fear for this episode, that they wouldn’t be able to give the robron stuff the time it deserved because of all of the Belfast stuff. Although, I would have eliminated literally the entire Bear Wolf/Paddy walk on the beach, so we could have actually gotten to hear Aaron express his damn feelings about this whole thing. We were so close yesterday. I had so much hope and...alas. Relegated to the E plot. Sigh. And not even a hug or a kiss to make up for it. 

- Crushing disappointment aside, I did kind of like their scenes in the first episode where they were ignoring each other. It did feel very married. Did Aaron sleep on the sofa then? Or Robert? I kind of assumed Aaron since he was still in his pjs and Robert was dressed. I also really loved that Robert called Chas. I love the idea that Robert and Chas have that kind of relationship now where he can call up the mother in law to help when his husband is being an idiot. 

- I also did really like the Chas and Aaron scene. I loved that she referenced him coming out and feeling like the world was over and now look at what he’s got. I kind of liked Aaron’s stubbornness with his whole ‘I don’t want to be a dad anymore’ and Chas just being like ‘who ya trying to kid, kid’. It was actually all quite sweet. 

- As far as the ‘refocusing’ chat. I mean, it was fine. But after yesterday, with them both starting to bring up all of the Seb stuff, I really hoped that they would dig into that a little today and address some of the root causes of their respective behaviors and then decide to refocus from there. Instead, we got a VERY VERY surface level apology. When Aaron was like ‘I can’t think of anything else to say other than sorry’, that was like the writers being like ‘sorry we can’t think of anything else more to write because apparently nothing we brought up yesterday is relevant right now’. It was super weird. Like, the Seb stuff is right there and they keep touching on it and then they shy away from it again. And this was really the opportune moment to talk about it for real too. They had all this momentum and they did nothing with it and it was ???? Very confusing. I was feeling really good about them putting the surrogacy on hold after yesterday because I hoped it would be because they wanted to refocus and get on the same page and do this for the right reasons but now...well I’m a bit annoyed and mistrustful again. We were so close. Haha. Ah well. And now they won’t be on for the next week or so and when they come back they’ll be celebrating Chaddy baby news so...who knows when we’ll get back to this surrogacy stuff or if they’ll dig further into literally anything with them. I sound angry but I’m actually pretty resigned at this point. We’ll see. Maybe they will still surprise me. I hope this big night out stuff is worth it whenever we get there. Until then, I’ll look forward to whatever the hell this Aaron and Doug spoiler is referring to. But you know...like not too much because look what happens. haha. 

- As for the rest of the episode...I really do like drunk Vanessa. She’s a lot of fun. Haha. Shades of the reunion episode there. I liked it. Absolutely no idea who that call is from though with Charity. Also...did Charity learn nothing from Robert ill planned birthday surprise? You’ve got to give them a fake plan or they’ll think you don’t care!

- I’m still utterly baffled as to what they’re doing with Ellis and Billy. Give me more backstory please!!! That said, I enjoyed seeing Vic and Matty watching Ellis self destruct. And I enjoyed Billy and Ellis fixing a wood paneled wall with fucking crayon?!?! What? haha. 

- The Belfast stuff was...a thing. Haha. Still the most random outing. So strange. And like, it’s so contrived and the Bear Wolf thing is still utterly ridiculous. That said, I did weirdly enjoy Jessie and Kerry together and I’m always going to enjoy a good Marlon and Paddy caper. 

- That said, the Bear Wolf stuff was...I don’t even know. I mean he was better when he was no longer his wrestling persona quite so full on. But...I assume he’s going to come back again even though they keep saying good bye? I’m really cool with just never seeing him again cause I still don’t get the point. Is Paddy going to get in touch with him again once he finds out about the new pregnancy or something? I don’t know. Still so baffled by the whole thing and what the point ever was or is. 

- The Amy stuff, I quite liked. I think I could get used to New!Amy. I still miss Chelsea Halfpenny but I liked the new actress so far. It was good to see a more grown up Amy and I like that she seems to have her life together a bit considering she was a bit of a mess when she was last on. And we all know she’ll end up coming back so I’m interested to see her reconnect with people like Eric and Vic and such and to see how she will factor into this Kyle and Cain stuff. Maybe she’ll make it more bearable. We’ll see. But so far so good.