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ONE CORDY AND ANGEL MOMENT PER EPISODE ➺ 1.09, Hero Mourning Doyle

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Despite what one might think, with his open manner and general niceties towards most people, Lorne never held a specific inkling to dote and lavish on children. There was no hate for them per se, far too strong a word---- [even if their grubby fingers happened to stain a certain designer ascot, and their wails interrupted the key note required to hear someone's entire destiny,] he simply didn't make an effort to be close to them. No desire to experience the whole the greatest thing you can do is have babies! shtick the bassinet companies liked to produce. The appeal didn't charm him in the least. Until tiny Desmond Reed was born, that is. From his mothers sheer elation, to the first time the kid wrapped a hand around his thumb... Yeah, he understood the baby obsession, to at least some extent. And now he's gone. Taking the innocence only a child could possess, and Lyra's life with him. So what's the point in loving them if they don't even stick around? “Honey, please. Don't go offending me with this making-up-for-rent nonsense. As they say, my little corner of underground LA, is your little corner of underground LA.” He waves a casual hand in her direction, fixing an Earl Grey in a ceramic cream cup from behind the bar, throwing her a glance every so often. [To make sure she's still there, breathing. Perhaps a ghost of the maiden she once was, but alive.] It's much harder than he knew how to deal with: if she needed sanctuary for a year or ten, he'd provide it willingly, but living in the knowledge that there's nothing you can do to save those you love? Lorne doesn't like to ponder on it. He'd prefer to burrow down into his self-made patch of the world than face the realities barking and snarling outside. “If anything, you'd be doing me the favour! Direct descendant of superstar Avalon Reed playing here? If the daughter is like the mother, well! [ ... ] The readings might have to ride backseat, because there's no way I'm concentrating on eternal destinations with that kind of talent blessing my ears.”

Her drink is finished, [hardly the typical beverage found in this place, but a happy change if it meant Lyra's company pursued], tea-bag thrown in the bin behind him. Instead of sliding it across the small distance where she perches on a stool, he passes it gently, hand lingering on hers for a good minute, then letting go. His focus narrows, body shifting to lean against the table and catch her line of sight, speaking directly to her rather than above. “You listen to me, peach pie. I don't want you thinking you need to do anything to stay... and that includes working those magic hands of yours.” Concentration doesn't shift / he'd gaze upon her for hours and remain perfectly content. But the cruelty forced into the marrow of her bones is clear: everything is set to be forever tainted, forever unknown---- horrors enough to last a lifetime residing in the thorny cage that's become his dear friends heart. “I know it'll take a few more days for my guys to get your room nice and shiny, but til' then, if all you need is to hide yourself away, you know where to go.” A swift nod to his bedroom door, before quickly looking back like he just remembered earth-shattering news. He raises an accusatory finger at her, “just so long as you come on out when it's time for Judge Judy. I defy you to watch that woman yell at those clowns and not instantly feel better.”

❝ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙱𝙻𝙴𝙼, 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙴. ❞ FROM LORNE, @wildbloomed

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 AS IT FLEES HER LIPS [ ... ] how she tries and tries to stop the trembling that rattles her bones. like her marrow had turned to ice; she could never seem to shake the chill. ( 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜, ) watered in blood: her own. her son's. it was a stain on her soul even if it had been washed off her skin in hospital. ❛   ────i know i've already thanked you for all of this ..   ❜ she manages, her voice hoarse and her eyes seemingly far too heavily weighed down upon the floor to rise and settle within his.

WHEN YOU ARE A CHILDLESS MOTHER, A JOBLESS HEALER &. CURSED TO BEAR WICKED CLAWS AND FERAL DOG TEETH ── in whom would you confide but to a demon?

even monsters had to look out for one another every now and again. she'd read that once, she thinks, in passing; at the time she had brushed it off [ ... ] now, she thinks now maybe there might just be a smidge of truth to the sentiment. although, in earnest .. she had found lorne far less monstrous than many of those posing as humankind. to that end, she offers her best attempt at a little smile.

❛   listen, i play the piano rather well. my mum was quite an accomplished instructor ─ er. well, she still is.   ❜ stated, not goaded. lyra half blinks when she thinks back to her own face fading out of photographs. her mother's blank stare was just another ghostly image to be haunted by in the dark. ❛   what i mean to say is that i'd be more than happy t'play at caritas and make up for rent until i'm back on my feet.  ❜ her house was too much of a tomb to go back to just yet. at least here, there was better company.

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Only now, a good forty minutes after being escorted from the apartment block, does Doyle realise he should probably ring Cordelia. Instead, he finds himself frozen, watching flames dwindle, keeping an eye out for survivors. It's the gentle touch at his shoulder, followed by an encouraging word to move aside which springs him into action, at last registering that he's standing in the middle of an active police investigation. [Not his first rodeo, likely not the last.] He mindlessly obeys, nodding without really listening, recognising Kate for who she is but barely acknowledging it. Until she mentions paramedics. He merely shakes his head in response, mumbling something about being a fast healer. I get it from my dad. Besides the charred, slightly bloody hands cradled in fists at his sides and a cough deep enough to stun a horse, he was lucky. Lucky to be alive. It'd been the first time since... ever, that he forced his demon side to manifest, [the greater good, right? No time to waste on self-consciousness when lives dangled in the balance] deciding it was the best way to protect himself inside the building. Burning to a crisp wasn't exactly on his list of things to do tonight. In doing so, he managed to break down a few doors and evacuate some residents safely, before falling rubble and cornering blazes became too overpowering. Luckily, firefighters were called relatively quickly, and in their haste, [forcibly] removed him from the scene, finishing what he started. “Now, I don't know what our boy Angel's been tellin' you, but isn't there always somethin' more going on in this ol' town?” The attempt to flash that cheeky grin of his falls short when a tough hack crawls up his throat, eyes stinging as he conceals the cough with the back of his raw hand.

Kate's words turn soft, sincere, and he's not so self-absorbed to ignore her striving to connect. He offers a light smile, a confirming nod, and finally looks at her properly. “That's right. I'd shake yer' hand, Detective Lockley, they're just a tad preoccupied at t'moment. Another time, aye?” Later, he'll have to concentrate hard to remember every excruciating detail of the vision. His only solid recollection thus far is the image of a girl, brunette, pretty, no older than seventeen, banging and screaming at her window to access her fire escape. But the blasted thing doesn't budge. Doyle hasn't seen her emerge yet— he needs to see it. Kate's right, no one could stop this on their own, half-demon or not, though her sentiment does little to cease the guilt. Christ, when did he start caring so much? “Yeah, well, no harm in tryin'.” Doyle was alone in the office when the message came knocking: a horrifying picture of bright orange painted in deadly streaks against an otherwise peaceful sky; some kind of clawed, webbed fingers, and an ear piercing screech. His head still pounded, actually. There wasn't a second to think, to act, let alone cure his headache in the bottom of a bottle— upon realising Angel was out of commission, likely in an alley god-knows where rescuing some damsel, and Cordelia already headed home for the night, the matter rested on his shoulders. He didn't have time to decipher anything other than a location before he was through the door, following internal leads and gut instincts. He wanted to arrive before the fire began... but when did anything go their way? Surely this'll make a convincing argument for the boss to use his damn phone. “Did everyone get out a'right? I mean... they all accounted for?” It was highly unlikely, he's no fool, but a win every now and then would be rather earned, he liked to think.

&. 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. @thyhaunts / doyle ✜ ❛ it wasn’t supposed to end like this. ❜

Smoke   billowed   into   the   night   sky,   cloudy   remnants   of   the   fire   that   blazed   through   the   apartment   block   Kate  was  called   out   to.   The   flames   were   dealt   with   swiftly   by   firefighters;   her   colleagues   took   witness   statements   and   sealed   off   the   area.   Recognising   one   of   the   witnesses,   Kate   approached,   guiding   him   to   one   side,   away   from   the crime   scene.

“You   should   have   the   paramedics   take   a   look   at   you.”   Kate   suggested,   frowning.   “There   was   more   going   on   here,   wasn’t   there?”   Her   tone   wasn't   accusatory,   simply   accepting   of   the   fact   that   there   always   seemed   to   be   an   air   of   mystery   surrounding   Angel   and   his   friends.   “Doyle,   right?”   Kate   made   an   effort   to   lock   their   gazes,   an   attempt   to   reassure.

“Nobody   could   have   stopped   that   fire   by   themselves.”

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I ALWAYS REMEMBERED YOU. (PRINCESS ANNA) @heartsthaw

And I remembered you. Always and forever. The lands she walked, those she met, the things she encountered... they left grave markings on her. But none perhaps to the extent of those places visited when she was fresh out of the Dragon's Keep, first learning to soar. When she had nothing, no hope or belief, she did have two sisters in a far-off world that welcomed her with open arms. Loneliness is like a second skin, and even after all these years it bitterly clings on. The challenges she was forced to overcome, which ultimately proved she was never alone, mattered little in the face of it. When the ghost of a lonely girl resides in your core, she stays there eternally: seasons change and people develop open-minds, but the maiden in the tower is still chained. In the presence of someone like Arendelle's Queen, however, familiar seclusion immensely fades. Self-discovery has not always been a beautiful ideology, and because of that, it's not untrue for one to claim Fiona wore a cynical streak in her nature, tied over and reinforced by the story of her life. But it's scarcely a burden to know oneself. While faces and titles were inevitably lost to age, she never forgot the way specific people made an impression... and Anna has practically been plucked from stardust and placed in human form. How could one feel nothing but jubilation upon seeing her face? She watches her, carefully, with the cautiousness of a wild dog observing a rabbit— but her pounce is tender, something akin to motherly instincts pulsating through her itching fingers. “Sweet girl—” Palm outstretches into a feather-light touch on Anna's cheek; said cynicism is nowhere to be found. “You are not so easily forgotten, either.”

Once a creature of the moon rather than bestowed heir, the princess lowers her hand to interlock her fingers with the younger, not intending to release anytime soon. “I hope you know I truly meant to visit, more than once, to see you and your sister again. Life simply moves much too quickly, against my wishes, might I add.” Nose scrunches playfully, followed by an eased hum escaping some shallow place in her chest. She is not that restless child anymore, the one Anna surely recalls: the one who barked and begged for help which wasn't owed to her. She is but a woman grown now, carved from marble of her own making, blossomed both with haggard blemishes and the grace of a queen-to-be. As fate has it, [an ever unreliable thing!] Far Far Away became the land where this overdue reunion took place. The kingdoms, for as long as Fiona remembered, held respectable trade agreements, and with Anna as the sole ruler, it was only a matter of time before arranged meetings with the new queen began. “Come, first we must dine, and you can tell me everything that has happened since we last met.” She gleefully prompts with a curiously raised brow, scars shifting grotesquely under the hilt of her expression. The work can wait an hour or so. “Shall we stay in, or would you prefer to sample one of our local cuisines?”

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now that i’m actually starting to write replies for angel, i just want to make a note that any time his son connor is mentioned, his name will be spelt conor, instead. given it’s the traditional irish spelling and the show simply fumbled hard when they gave conor an irish name but didn’t even spell it properly. 💀 i know this matters to no one but me but….. just needed to mention it somewhere!!

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make me choose > malcolm reynolds or angel?

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Angel the Series | Are You Now or Have You Ever Been (2.02)

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RACHEL ZEGLER via Instagram (March 16, 2025)

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@c0rdelias : why do we have to sacrifice everything?

it's not often he gets the chance to witness the innerworkings of his best friend. her question swarms around him like a tidal wave, nearly knocking him down by the weight of once concealed thoughts. he's had the exact ones ― for the greater good, right? ― and will likely continue having them until he's done. why, indeed! why her? why them? it's ghastly out in the big bad world, in here; in spite of hollowness found in their streets, some attempts of justice succeeded with flying colours... but never without grave sacrifice of those at the core of it. brow raises in surprise, followed by a short laugh opening on the curl of his upper lip. ❝ all part of the job description, princess. i think we oughta jus' be grateful there aren't a many number of ritual sacrifices thrown in the mix— not exactly the prettiest of pictures. ❞ playfulness forfeits, trading a grin to politely nod and allow her words to resonate. he's not about to brush the importance of her sentiment off. since returning, there's still so much they haven't caught him up on. listening to recounted memories and events during his demise wasn't the same as being there, living the hurts and challenges. god knows what cordelia's kept silent. she took his role, his other-worldly loads, and became fractured with the knowledge of people's desperations and terrifying experiences. an extravagant alteration rewired her entire life— lingering knots compressed of what-ifs and what could've been. doyle sighs, and inside the minute expression, his manner turns gentle, sincere. he knows the mass of slaughter, perhaps better than most.

❝ whether y'like it or not, you— ❞ just for dramatics, he points her way, ❝ miss chase, are extraordinary. fate herself chose ya'! and unfortunately that happens to come wit' some pesky terms and conditions. though they're usually hidden in the fine print of... how'd y'say… gettin' your heart stomped on every couple-a months, give or take. ❞ [or spending two decades half-dead.] she's become ethereal in his absence, despite already having been remarkably human... alongside that came burdens many couldn't begin to digest. ❝ yeah, it's a tough ride, the toughest, but we knew tha' climbing on. we make the big calls, the sacrifices, 'cause who else is gonna? helpin' the helpless, remember? ❞ it seemed easy back then, when they owned nothing but an old building, a dream, and badly printed business cards. the memory alone is enough to craft a smile. ❝ it's worth it, in t'end. ❞ and when we give ourselves fully, piece by piece, is merely a matter of time.

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ya'll can ignore this post, i simply can't be assed making a whole google doc for this canon divergence as i wanna link it in my pinned post!! <3 but a hugeee thank you to my loves shelley and rae for letting me rant about and giving me their ideas with this. love u both!!!!

after doyle sacrifices himself, due to his half-demon heritage, he winds up being sent to a hell dimension. he's stuck there for two decades, (two years having passed in earths-time) stuck in his demon form due to the environment forcing it out of him.

through no fault of his own, his human side suddenly resurfaces one day, beginning to flick back and forth as it did when he was alive. after discovering he is a half-breed, the hell dimension attempts to spit him out, but it's not exactly easy opening portals to and from such places. that is, until sahjhan comes along, and his centuries old plans finally begin.

when the portal to quor'toth is opened, the extreme power creates brief ripple effects, unbeknownst to everyone involved. it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to create the doorway, and said power opens countless portals elsewhere, but only for a few seconds. this 'tear in the fabric of reality' affects multiple dimensions, including the one doyle is trapped in. the dimension takes the opportunity to get rid of him, throwing him back into earth, ridding the filth from its otherwise pure atmosphere.

doyle winds up back at the place he died. practically dumped in the ocean, he's instantly fighting for his life (again) but is grateful to find that he's not too far out from the docks. lost and confused and not knowing where, or who he is, he wanders aimlessly. with the state of him, he blends in well with the other lost and homeless of los angeles. he can see places, flashes of faces, but doesn't have any true direction. the world seems familiar, but after so long in hell, he wasn't sure his memories of this place were ever real to begin with. he struggles to distinguish between what is true and what is a lie. until the headaches start, the blinding, nauseating kind of ones.

then, like a saving grace, he sees a face he's sure he once knew. only her hair is shorter now (because of course doyle notices that). her face is familiar, encouraging, and all of a sudden he knows where he needs to go. after nine days lost in the city, thin and shaken and scared, he winds up at the hyperion hotel. he'd never been there before, didn't know it existed, but knew it's where he needed to be. the door opens before he has the chance to knock, but he's thrown back by something being thrown in his face, (he never found out what it was) and a shrill scream to follow. nursing a fresh lump on the forehead, his first sense of reality at last comes in. only cordelia chase could offer such a warm welcome back.

he was the first host of the visions, and they were passed onto cordelia. she'd been having visions since doyle's return, but wasn't sure if they were old or new, and did not act on them as a fuck you to the powers that be, after what just happened to angel and connor. but they became more intense the longer she ignored them, and it was doyle, so she had to check it out. just as she was leaving the hotel to follow her visions, that's when they met, face-to-face. (they're literally 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️)

while cordy trusts her visions, with angel unstable after losing his son, and the rest of angel investigations only knowing of doyle, she decides to not announce his return immediately. doyle trusts cordelia, and even if this is some blissful dream, he lets her help him. he showers, eats, and they spend the night talking.

the following day, cordelia eases charles, lorne and fred into the news of doyle's return. they're conflicted, but like doyle, trust cordelia, and agree not to tell angel just yet. fred goes out of her way to talk to doyle, who is still on edge; she knows what it's like to spend a lifetime in hell-like dimension, after all. lorne also tries to help. because it's lorne and that is the kindest guy ever. he's probably the first person of the gang that doyle befriends properly. just because i say so!!!

doyle is not kept hidden for long, though, as the hotel is overrun with the sluk's, and he's forced to evacuate his room (which he hadn't yet left) and help the rest of the gang. he and angel don't really get a chance to talk amongst the chaos. and then connor returns. so even more chaos!!

*inserts s4/5 info here when i'm not lazy!!! stay tunedddd!! have some brief little notes i came up with so far in the meantime. these are gonna be fleshed out when i get there on my rewatch!*

i am thinking heavily about the angeldoyle reunion because!!! i need it. tempted to write it honestly. have a few contenders of how it could go but shfksjfka my boy's i need to think carefully on this.

when angel and cordelia go missing, doyle reconnects with harry. because he likes charles, lorne and fred, but hasn't had a chance to get to know them yet, and needs someone he knows. and he doesn't trust connor. uh uh no siree!

omg omg think about gwen and doyle idk just a cool dynamic in my brain!

also doyle going to vegas to see lorne and not drinking or gambling is gonna be a hugeeee step for him. like being able to overcome those addictions and not fall back on it when things are tough?? massive!!

post series five / angel: after the fall: doyle is sent off on his own in the final mission with the instruction to meet back in the alley if he survives. (what he winds up doing to take down the senior partners i am still brainstorming..... we will get there eventually.) in his single mission, he's injured and doesn't make it to the meeting place in time, stuck out on his own when hell literally takes over the city. the gang don't have time to think about or find him; they already lost wes, and can only assume doyle died, too. slowly but surely, despite the fact that three days have passed (he assumes it's been about three days. there's no telling with the state of la), he still plans to find his friends. he intends to go to the alley as planned, and work his way from there. along the way he comes by a little boy, alone, trying to find a place to hide after he got separated from his parents. doyle takes care of him, and manages to find them a secure place to hide after a few hours of manoeuvring through the hellfire; he says he needs to go and look for his friends, that they can help, and he'll come back for him. the child, liam, pleads for him not to leave, and doyle reluctantly promises to stay; but he can't risk liam's life outside. they craft a small living space together. doyle begins to make small trips out to gather food and supplies, and ends up coming by more and more children, some human, some demon. doyle and his lil band of orphans. do u see the vision!!! he eventually comes by lorne's community, the oasis in the middle of hell, and is just like. here have some children. and doyle officially returns back to the fold. i'm thinking at least a month has passed between hell taking over la and him meeting up with lorne!

doyle at have faith!!!!! rae we need to discuss this because they're giving major annoying siblings vibes.....

ultimately, there's no 'bigger picture' as to why doyle is returned. he's just there. a little feral a little hardened but figuring out how to be. like. that man genuinely had such a good life at twenty one years old, and then threw it all away because he didn't know how to cope with his demon side manifesting. he never gave himself a second chance or had a shot at redemption (that didn't include dying) so this is his second chance. it's harder to recover from given what he's gone through, but he's not standing in his own way anymore. something happened to him, rather than him causing his own problems. but this time round, he has friends to fall back on rather than drinking and gambling, and can grow as a person and i just!!!!! yeah more to come later hehehe.

also thinking about how when the hell dimension spits him out, he doesn't die. like. my bro was probably meant to go to heaven or something because of his sacrifice, but got lost in delivery. so there's the whole second shot at life being brought in, but also the question of why am i actually alive? is it for a higher purpose, or just to keep helping the helpless! (that is his higher purpose, he just doesn't know it yet tehehehe.)

need need neeeeed for doyle when he's in his late thirties or so (so ten-fifteen years after he comes back) to go back to teaching. hangs up his hat of the demon side of life, and goes back to what he used to love. because he must have been so dedicated if he was a full-time, qualified teacher at twenty one.

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@paralyziingfears (cordelia chase) : my mom says there's two types of people who live here: the people too stupid to leave and the ones too stuck to move.

what a colourful picture she's painting for him! then again, this is cordelia chase, and just when you think you've got someone like her worked out, another piece of her endless puzzle is laid out on the table. doyle's become used to moments like these: the boss off finishing the latest mission, with his fancy coat flowing behind him, smouldering stare ever-so high and mighty ― all part of the image, of course ― while back at base, cordelia preps the invoice, contagious excitement in her stance at the prospect of paying customers. he's relaxed on the couch in their small office, still nursing that murderous headache nearly an hour later, a glass of water held tight in his grip [not his first choice, but she'd insisted, and sometimes he simply couldn't deny her requests, what with those crinkly dimples and that enchanting smile of hers] when she breaks the comfortable silence. unlike their usual banter he's come to enjoy, her projection is actually quite meaningful, allowing him a, however brief, peek behind the curtain of a life led by the one and only miss chase. doyle contemplates her confession, thinking over the admission before responding. ❝ truly an inspiring eye ye' old mam's got on her, there. any other gratifying words of wisdom she passed down tha' you'd like to share? ❞ sarcasm is heavy, brow raised to reinforce the ridiculous notion. until today, he hadn't given a second thought to her family. he hauls himself up from his lounged, slacked position, half-drank water abandoned on the ground with a 'clink', moving to properly focus on the girl before him, rather than vaguely digesting what she had to say. ❝ now, i don't consider myself the most perceptive of blokes, but even i can tell when someone's sprouting a load o' bull. ❞

and what exactly did that point of view make him? stupid or stuck? a bit of both, possibly? he had it all a few years prior: a steady job, a woman he loved, the possibility of children... thrown away in light of what frightened him, things he didn't want to understand. stupid, then… sounds about right! ❝ i dunno 'bout you, but i reckon there's a pretty big difference 'tween being stuck, and standing still for a little while 'cause yer' working towards somethin' important― somethin' that matters. ❞ there's never a tell with cordelia, no visible sign of who she really is or what she really wants. he hopes one day he'll gain the proper insight into what makes her tick. [perhaps it's a bit of the teacher in him wanting to argue her mother's point. it doesn't exactly scream parental encouragement, after all.] ❝ far as i see, stupid or stuck doesn't begin to describe what y'are. ❞

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ALICENT HIGHTOWER in every episode: ↳ 2.03 "The Burning Mill"

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ANGEL THE SERIES → Cordelia x Doyle “Too bad we’ll never know if this is a face you could learn to love.”

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PROMPTS FROM BARBIE AS RAPUNZEL *  assorted dialogue from the 2002 film, adjust as necessary

what am i supposed to paint?

what if i don't have any good ideas?

you can create anything you imagine.

what if i hate it?

the woods were whispered to be full of monsters and dragons.

do you hear that? it's my stomach grumbling. i feel weak.

we wouldn't want anyone fainting around here.

one day, i'm going to walk along a beach just like this one and see nothing but open sky for miles and miles.

i'll put your art stuff away.

how was your ride today?

i'll expect my tea in nine minutes.

don't repeat your errors of yesterday.

what about your duties?

did you make the beds? sweep the floors? weed the garden?

it's your job to know.

i wonder where it goes.

something great could be down here.

you don't think there are spiders down there? 'cause i'm not too fond of spiders... or beetles... or snakes. i don't like them either.

oh sure. let's go down anyway.

nobody's been down here in years.

constant as the stars above, always know that you are loved.

why would she lie to me about that?

hurry, get cleaning!

i'm sorry, i was distracted.

will there be anything else?

how are we gonna fix this?

this is my chance. maybe... my only chance.

next time, i'll sit on you.

don't tell me you've been playing here all day.

does he ever smile?

just hold on, i'll get you!

just let go with one hand and reach up!

have we met before?

the only way to end the feud is through force.

i'd better make sure they're okay. i'll be right back.

how did it get so late?

tell me again about the village... and don't leave out a single detail.

the best part was... i met somebody.

and you've seen... how many men before?

this could ruin everything.

did we have a nice little trip today?

after all i've done, after all i've given you, this is how you repay me!

i heard you met someone special.

when i ask a question, i expect an answer.

you can't keep me locked away from the world forever.

when do you think this feud will end?

you're even more beautiful than i remember.

i'm going to be free.

just sounds like something following us.

it was only because of our extraordinary cunning and bravery that we escaped it all.

i hope you're wrong.

they may destroy each other sooner than i thought.

it's better than being a prisoner.

i hoped you might come back here. i realized i don't even know your name.

you're full of surprises.

there's your answer.

i'm not giving up.

you must be pretty important if you are invited to the prince's ball.

watch it with that thing! somebody could get seriously hurt!

any specific plan, or just general pain and anguish?

don't hurt him! it's me you want!

i'd rather read a good book.

she doesn't even know i'm the prince.

i'm waiting for someone.

i'm the one who's going to teach you not to meddle with my plans!

you're gonna let a little thing like that stop you!

i understand it is i who must thank you.

what makes might? it is more than power. it is also courage and loyalty.

you have never swerved in your devotion to your friend, no matter the danger.

it's so beautiful up here!

so again, we meet at a ball.

i came to clean up some loose ends.

you loved me! i know you did!

you could have had so much! you should've loved me!

you don't know what love is!

i forgive you for all those years.

no more hatred, please.

i thought you were gone forever.

all those years i thought i was alone.

i wronged you all these years.

i hope someday you can find it it in your heart to forgive me.

[wildbloomed]

he truly hated this room, with its burnt stench and visage of broken dreams. once full of joy and opportunity, now possessing short-lived memories, serving as a reminder for what was lost. he hated it, but said hate wasn't enough to stop him ducking a subtle head in at every hour on the dot [because what else is he supposed to do?] to check on those occupying it. it's a little past twelve in the morning when he follows his self-made routine, peeking in to find angel unmoved, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, staring at that haunted crib ( ... ) like if he stares hard and long, connor will return in one piece, with those grabby fingers and big, bewitching eyes of his. it takes him longer to look at cordelia, but when he does, it's the catalyst lorne needs to step inside and coax her away. curled uncomfortably on a single arm chair, back poised crookedly that it'll certainly scream bloody murder for her tomorrow. she's hesitant to depart upon waking to lorne's hands on her elbows, but he hauls her up successfully, leading her to his own room. like a father pulling their sleeping child from the backseat after a late drive. he returns silently to replace cordelia's vigil, [he'd tucked her tight into bed and wished her sweet dreams] opening her book absentmindedly. if angel noticed the transition in watchers, he says nothing― lorne didn't expect him to. what could be spoken in a situation like this?

[ @harmfuls / ANGEL ] : truth is, i'm not handling it very well.

he's halfway though a passage he must've read six times already, when his presence is acknowledged. lorne peers upwards so fast his neck almost cracks from the feeling of whiplash. “you saw it here first, folks: our angel is finally cast in a speaking role.” book is abandoned in exchange for the demon practically jumping off the seat in order to inch closer, using angel's voice as permission to make a move, rather than simply act as a guardian in the corner of their shared space. there's no hesitation present in his words or movements, not one to shy from being up close and personal― though he doesn't want to crowd, and fears he will if he slides down directly beside him. lorne compensates by sitting on the bed instead, and placing his hand atop his friends head. he strokes his hair for a minute, then lets it fall to his shoulder, squeezing for good measure. he sighs― a deep, guttural sound coming from the bottom of his heart, and nods. his tone softens extensively, “now, you listen to me, honey... you don't need to handle it well. you know that, right?” the ghost of the lost babe lingers deeply in this place, [lorne can hardly bring himself to gander at the crisped cradle feet in front of them] in the hearts of those residing here. the healthiest thing would be to force angel out in the same fashion he did cordelia― but who is he to say what's healthy and what isn't in a time like this?

“the way i see it is you've got two options here, both of which are perfectly fine contenders.” he leans forward on his knees, shifting to get a better view of angel's face, thumb still circling idly on his shoulder. another late night, another tick of the clock as what-ifs repeat in his, and everyone else's mind. “you can continue being mister-broody-with-the-permanent-frown-lines, or you can get up, take a greatly needed shower, and go back to work. it's all about managing what you need one little day at a time.” if only he'd been quicker. it felt like centuries ago when the moment of truth erupted from wesley, and lorne received a harsh blow for his efforts― if he'd acted sooner, moved faster, they mightn't even be having this conversation. that's a confession of buried guilt for a later date. “and if you decide that sitting on this floor is the better option for now, then hell, slap some ringlets on me and call me baby jane— because like it or not, cupcake, you won't be sitting alone.”

[wildbloomed]

Lorne + nicknaming Angel

“Angel, baby… Muppet, pumpkin, uh, this show is number one in its time slot.”

[wildbloomed]

BEAUTIFUL CREATURES (2013) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary.

how do you believe in all this and still believe in god?

everybody has to deal with shit in their lives.

what do you think that is?

being human is feeling bad, it's feeling pissed off, it's feeling scared.

i yelled at you because i care about you.

that's what normal people do who love each other.

god gives us what we can handle, even if we don't believe it ourselves.

i pray every night that you don't go straight to hell.

i won't go straight to hell. i wanna stop off in new york first.

i just want to talk to you.

it's a gamble.

sacrifice won't take away pain and loss, but it wins the battle against bitterness.

i believe true sacrifice is a victory.

memories are erased.

i remembered you.

i remembered every moment we spent together.

everything came flooding back into my heart.

you still don't get it, do you?

i don't want to be any further away from you than i am right now.

one way or another, love is a risk for anybody.

go ahead. kill me.

i'm sick of listening to your family.

i have been going out of my mind for the past two weeks.

you know what? i don't care about them.

you are not going dark.

you are not losing me.

no matter what they do, no matter what they do to me, i'm still here.

i could hear the sound.

i was shattered.

no good can come from loving a mortal.

they can't survive in our world.

get out. go.

claim the light.

nothing can stay.

my family's different.

we do different things.

so, what, you're from europe?

my mom says there's two types of people who live here: the people too stupid to leave and the ones too stuck to move.

i'm agreeing with you!

i'm jut a dumbass mortal.

there's no way we're gonna figure this out unless you stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself.

go ahead. see where that gets you.

promise me one thing: it will be a perfectly normal human date.

i won't even call you after the date.

you've... heard of me?

as long as i live, i will never understand you creatures.

you have no real power.

you're gonna think i'm so uncool.

i don't think you're cool now.

is it good?

define good.

did you go for a run last night?

did it help you sleep?

you've got it all planned out! good for you!

i'm not afraid of you.

you can't help it, can you?

i never know whether you're insulting me or not.

if it makes any difference, i like you.

anything is better than a life standing still.

there are no coincidences.