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fuckyeahgoodomens · 1 year

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The Season 2 Poster Details

From top to bottom :)

This is a Buddy Holly song Everyday which was originally supposed to be the Good Omens theme :)

Neil talks about it in the Introduction to the Script Book: “In the scripts, Buddy Holly’s song ‘Every Day’ runs through the whole like a thread. It was something that Terry had suggested in 1991, and it was there in the edit. Our composer, David Arnold, created several different versions of ‘Every Day’ to run over the end credits. And then he sent us his Good Omens theme, and it was the Good Omens theme. Then Peter Anderson made the most remarkable animated opening credits to the Good Omens theme, and we realised that ‘Every Day’ didn’t really make any sense any longer, and, reluctantly, let it go. It’s here, though. You can hum it.”

And there is also the Buddy Holly Everyday record! :)

Book The Crow Road by Iain Banks. The novel describes Prentice McHoan's preoccupation with death, sex, his relationship with his father, unrequited love, sibling rivalry, a missing uncle, cars, alcohol and other intoxicants, and God, against the background of the Scottish landscape

Book Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad. An early and primary event in the story is the abandonment of a passenger ship in distress by its crew, including a young British seaman named Jim. He is publicly censured for this action and the novel follows his later attempts at coming to terms with himself and his past and seeking redemption and acceptance.

Important themes in Lord Jim include the consequences of a single, poor decision, the indifference of the universe, and the inability to know oneself or others.

There is book The Body Snatcher by Robert Louis Stevenson. Its characters were based on criminals in the employ of real-life surgeon Robert Knox (1791–1862) around the time of the notorious Burke and Hare murders (1828). Neil said: Oddly enough, episode 3 will take us to a little stint of body snatching in the era.

There is Catch-22 book by Joseph Heller that coined the term Catch-22: situation from which an individual cannot escape because of contradictory rules or limitations.

Is there only one hand or are there two? :) EIther 6 ;), or 6:30 :).

Through the window we can see the coffeeshop Give Me Coffe or Give Me Death where Nina works! :)

Azi is wearing his nifty glasses :).

Crowley is wearing his new glasses, they are RIGARDS X UMA WANG - THE STONE ECLIPSE (VINTAGE BLACK/BLACK STONES) - $435

There is the Holy Bible Aziraphale used in Season 1 :)

There seems to be a broken phone :).

The cakes behind Aziraphale are Eccles cakes :).

Azi is reading A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens published in 1859, set in London and Paris before and during the French Revolution. The novel tells the story of the French Doctor Manette, his 18-year-long imprisonment in the Bastille in Paris, and his release to live in London with his daughter Lucie whom he had never met. The story is set against the conditions that led up to the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror.

Another book there is Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen - Neil said said that we will learn a lot about Jane Austin we didn’t know before.

And finally the Treasure Island book by - again :) - Robert Louis Stevenson, an adventure novel with pirates.

There are three geckos cuties. Who are they? Pets? Is Ligur haunting the bookshop? Who knows :).

A mysterious pamphlet, 'The Resurrectionists’ leaflet. (unofficial spoiler :)).

Also there is an old camera... mmm 🤔 Did Azi made some photos (of what? Him and Crowley, ducks? :)) Will we see them? :)

Their positions is an homage to the book covers! :)(x)

Will update this as fandom discovers new things! :)❤

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #posters #s2 poster details #fun fact #robert louis stevenson #jane austen #joseph heller #charles dickens #can't waiiiit #wahoo!

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ash5monster01 · 8 months

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Truths of Our Past Series

Pairing: Older!Charlie Dalton x FemReader!Wife

Warnings: mentions of suicide, depression, depressing thoughts, past trauma, facing trauma, romance, understanding, fluff.

Summary: You had met Charlie in University, were married shortly after, and had become accustomed to a beautiful life together. When you receive a wedding invitation to one of Charlie’s previous classmates weddings you discover that Charlie had a dark past, one he had been trying to forget. In the midst of it all you try to help him through it while finding out that he’s not the guy you thought you married at all. Maybe he’s even better.

word count: 1.3k

Intro ←→ Part 1

Masterlist

You still remember the first time you had seen him. It was the beginning of Junior Year. Autumn of 1963. You had been riding the bus across Campus watching leaves fall from the trees. As most people your age conversed loudly over the latest parties and hardest assignments, five rows ahead of you sat a doe eyed boy wearing a beret and nose stuck in a book. Pride and Prejudice. You had never seen a male read Jane Austen before and at that seem to enjoy it. A smile crossed your face before your mind even caught up with your heart. Because somehow, just five rows ahead, was the man of your dreams. So you stood up on the moving bus, ignoring the complaints of elbows you bumped in the aisle, and sat next to him.

You smiled wide again as you thought of this. Watching that same boy sit across from you in the living room, readers rested low on his nose, and his eyes scanning the pages of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. You had now known the man across from you for six years, married for three. He still read like he did that day on the bus, transported to another world, not even a fire able to gain his attention. Love for him seeped out of you and you found yourself discarding your own book and standing to cross the living room. His eyes stayed trained on the page, unmoving until you were settled neatly in his lap.

“Well hello Mrs Dalton” his eyes finally met yours, an amused smirk painted across his features. He dropped the book once your arms curled around his neck, free hands now sneaking around your waist in return.

“Hi Mr Dalton” you smiled sweetly at him, nose nudging with his own as you removed the readers from his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure in the presence of my beautiful wife” he asked calmly, lips pressing a soft kiss into your cheek. You smiled, snuggling closer.

“I missed you” you told him earnestly and he chuckled.

“I’m right here darling” he told you, not quite understanding what you had meant.

“Well your physical form is, yes. But your soul, that was somewhere in 1912 Brooklyn” you told him and he laughed, forehead pressing against your own.

“Williamsburg Brooklyn to be exact dear” he teased and you shoved his shoulder before curling back up into him, embracing the feeling of his warmth. His hand rose up your back, rubbing comfortably and now giving you his full attention. "What did you do today?"

"I wrote an article about the possibility of there being a draft, awfully depressing. Then I came home and talked to Chris on the phone before cooking dinner" Charlie smiled as you recounted your day, still writing for the NY Times under a pen name since you were a woman.

"How is Chris and Knoxie, and my favorite nephew Johnny?" Charlie asked, a fond smile on his face at the mention of his friends.

"Healthy, Knox got a promotion and Johnny got an A on his spelling test. Chris wants to enroll him in Welton but Knox isn't quite sure" you felt Charlie tense up at the mention of Welton, long and hard school days spent there now long behind him.

"If that old tool Nolan is still running the school I wouldn't want Johnathon there either" Charlie said, voice bitter in the warm air of the home. You sighed against him, wishing he talked about his time there more than he did.

"Chris said he retired three years ago, the only thing holding her back is not having Johnathon live with them, but he has such a bright future it might be a price worth paying" you explained but Charlie shook his head, eyes now dark and recalling a place in his heart he didn't quite like.

"I hope they think about it, Knox remembers what it was like" Charlie said and you felt guilty for bringing it up, you always felt guilty bringing up that place. Your life with him had always been in the heart of the big city and when the mentions of small town Vermont came up he was more tense, less him. You knew vague details, horror stories of lifeless teachers, and being expelled from school, losing a friend.

"You know Chris, she'd last a day before she brought him home and hugged him for a week straight. I never even figured the kid would go to Kindergarten considering she cried on the phone with me for an hour after leaving him there" you told him and finally Charlie was smiling again, laughing lightly at your accusation which was more than likely true. Chris was a helicopter parent, but Johnny was such a good kid.

"You’re probably right. She sure as hell loves that kid" Charlie said, bouncing his legs so you bounced in his lap. You giggled sweetly while looking up at him and he finally pressed his lips to yours.

"I'm going to get ready for bed, you coming?" you asked sweetly and he smiled before nodding and kissing you once more. His sweet and beautful flower.

"Right behind you, I'm just going to go through the mail on my desk and then I'll be there" he told you and you nodded while he helped you up from your spot on his lap. He watched as you disappeared down the hall into your shared bedroom. Once you were gone he pushed himself up to his feet and walked to his study. You had left the stack on mail in the center of his desk and he smiled as he sifted through the bills and letters from his mother in Paris. He only froze when he saw one with a Vermont return address.

Charlie felt his stomach drop over the thought of returning to Vermont. He had done it before, to see Knox and Chris. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be in attendance but every time it brought back memories he wished he could forget. Setting the invite down he realized there was a letter underneath the invite.

A week. A week in Vermont. Charlie hadn’t spent a whole week in Vermont since his Senior year of High School. Even as fear consumed him, heartache numbing his lungs, he pictured quiet and mousy Todd. The same Todd he watched grow from a shy boy to a successful man. The kind of guy you could never ever say no too. So Charlie sighed as he plopped into the chair of his desk and pulled out a piece of paper to respond.

And just like that Charlie agreed to visit the past but only because Todd Anderson asked him too. Dead Poets Honor. A promise Charlie would never break.

a/n: this is a possible series I was hoping to explore. If anyone would be interested please let me know and I would love to follow through the plot. Y/N will be used very little, it would be a short series that tugs on the heart strings. Any feedback would be appreciated greatly. please enjoy xx

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movielp-pany · 1 year

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since I am being obsessed with ride the cyclone and dead poets society

here is my rant about rtc x dps (aka if the poets died on the cyclone and one could be brought back)

also do not question me about the roles, this is just something fun I came up with. Feel free to give your own thoughts about this but these are all my opinions :)

karnak - honestly it would be so funny to have Keating as karnak and have him deal with them

ocean - hear me out,, but Cameron as Ocean. Like both are annoying gingers. Just his song will be about rules or smth. Idk this just seemed to fit

Noel - Neil as Noel. Not only are their names similar and are both extremely gay. But Noel gives me theatre kids vibes and Neil is a theatre kids so it makes sense. Also just imagine Neil singing about wanting to be an actor but his father not letting him in the way Noel sings about wanting to be that fucked up girl.

Mischa - I think I can fit 2 poets in his songs, Charlie and Knox. Like Charlie gives me more tsia vibes and Knox gives me more Talia vibes (probably singing about Chris). Even if Meeks has those rapping skills I think I am going for this answer.

Ricky - This one is pretty hard tbh. Like I can see Charlie for RIcky but I can also see Meeks for Ricky? idk, I think I will leave it at this. They both seem to fit for Ricky imo

Jane doe - since Jane doe is the feminine version and John doe is the masculine one. It probably would change into John doe. And I think I can see Todd for this one? I mean they all know each other and Todd gets into the group. But also it was his first year at Welton and if Neil didn't try to get him to join the others, Todd would've probably been a loner. So ig it makes sense but also it doesn't really?

Constance - I can see Todd and Pitts for her. I, personally, see Pitts as a rather nice guy and the same goes for Todd. So it would be either of them for Constance tbh.

Thank you to whoever read this little rant.

#dps #dead poets society #rtc #ride the cyclone #Just a little Finn rant #I love both of these pieces of media #This means sm to me #Thank you sm for whoever is willing to read this #Au? Maybe

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finleyforevermore · 10 months

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2023's StEx Appreciation Month!

Day 6: Buffy the Buffet Car

Anna Jane Casey in the first picture, Aiko Nakasone in the second picture, Renee Chambers in the third picture, and Anne Tiger in the fourth picture.

Favorite Actor(s): Lola Knox (Broadway, 1988-1989), Charlotte Avery (Japan/Australia Tour, 1987), Lilia Sixtos (Mexico, 1997-1998), Louise Perez (Bochum, 2001-2004, swing), Sophie Wallis (Bochum, 2016-2017, swing), and Carla Pullen (Bochum, 2011-2016).

Face Claim/Voice Claim: Anne Tiger (face) and Louise Perez (voice)

Favorite Song(s)/Scene(s): Girls' Rolling Stock

Favorite Costumes: London, Broadway, and pre-2018 Bochum. Also I like her hair best when it's brown.

Favorite Ship(s): Smoked Hotdogs (Ashley x Buffy)

Headcanon(s):

Most people headcanon her and Ashley to be lesbians, but she shows affection to Greaseball during "Pumping Iron", so I think it's more likely that she's bisexual.

She dyed her hair blonde at some point (hence her wig being blonde starting in 2002), but it just wasn’t her style, so she removed the dye and went back to good ol' brown!

Unpopular Opinion: I don't think I have one!

#starlight express #stex #starex #buffy the buffet car #buffy stex #stex buffy #ashley stex #ashley the smoking car #stex ashley #greaseball the diesel #smoked hotdogs #smoked sandwiches #smoked burgers #stex appreciation month 2023 #stex appreciation month

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kbirbpods · 2 years

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Dear Podficcer,

I thought I'd start with my personal "do not wants" to get them out of the way. I don't want: non-con, dubious consent, infedelity, suicide, adult/minor au, pregnancy, split personality as a trope, or slave-fic (though I do understand that the clones would be considered slaves, so fics that tackle that are okay).

I'm okay with but do not prefer: explicit content in general (mature is fine, I'm just pretty picky with explicit stuff because I'm ace), unhappy endings, A/B/O, cannibalism, or permanent character death. Also I have a weird trigger with cockroaches.

AUs I love: I'm a sucker for a good bookshop/coffee shop/flower shop AU, werewolf AU, fandom crossover (especially the "put them in the story to replace the characters"), no Order-66/Order-66 happens differently, adoption fics, time travel/time travel fix-its (and fix-its in general), modern au, and ESPECIALLY a good soulmate au

Tropes I love: friends-to-lovers, enemies/rivals/exes-to-lovers, fake dating, angst with a happy ending, especially FOUND FAMILY, and secret identities (oops same bed is so fun).

Fandoms, Characters, and Ships: These are not in any order, I have ADHD so it's what popped into my brain. Feel free to check out my AO3 for what I've written/podficced!

Star Wars: Finn/Poe Dameron, Finn/Rey/Poe, Obi-Wan/Cody, Obi-Wan/Satine, PLATONIC Obi-Wan/Anakin, Ahsoka Tano in general, Leia in general, Clone OCs (okay with clone ships, too!!), and pretty much any AU where Hevy lives (I just got really attached to him). Rey as a Kenobi. Exploring Fox/Quin recently so if you find good content, please do! Anything Rogue One focused!

Teen Wolf: Scott Mccall/Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, any AU where Allison lives, Scott/Allison/Isaac

The Locked Tomb: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark, basically any fic in this fandom will make me happy (avoiding triggers of course)

First Kill: Calliope Burns/Juliette Fairmont, fics focusing on Theo

Our Flag Means Death: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Jim/Oluande, anything Lucius focused, anything focused on Jim

Marvel: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes, anything focused on Kate Bishop (especially femslash)

DC: anything Batfam but especially Jason Todd. I do look at them as a family so I prefer fics that pair them outside of the family. Harley Quinn/Pamela Isley | Poison Ivy. I love Young Justice and Wally West/Artemis!

The Sandman: Dream/Hob Gadling, fics about Dream and Death's sibling relationship

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Spike/Buffy, Willow/Tara

Stranger Things: anything with Robin Buckley (especially exploring her friendship with Steve), Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson.

The Tarot Sequence: Rune Saint John/Addam Saint Nicholas, Rune/Brand/Addam, fics focusing on the friendships between the kids

The Adventure Zone: Taako/Kravitz, Lup/Barry

Venom: Venom/Eddie (this is like the ONE ship that I would 100% be cool with explicit content in, no need to question it)

All for the Game: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker, Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten, Kevin Day being happy in general - note: talking about Andrew's self-harm or past experiences with consent are a-okay here. Same with Jean!

X-Files: Scully/Mulder

Avatar the Last Airbender: Zuko/Sokka

Percy Jackson: Nico/Will, Percy/Annabeth, any of the femslash really

I'm a huge Regency era fan and love anything Jane Austen as well!

Feel free to check out my main fandom blog @themisfitthrone for any specifics.

Some authors I adore with blanket permissions in case you need a starting point: Flowerparrish, isabrella, saiditallbefore, trixree, wanderingjedihistorian, WitchyBee, HSavinien, bzedan, mestiket

I also have BPs as a note!

Offers: Any of the fandoms above! I'll gladly podfic any pairs from them, with the exception of the ships I listed as "do not wants." I again shy away from explicit content but if paired with someone who loves it, I'll do mu best.

#itpe #informal twitter podfic exchange #dear podficcer #podfic

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steve-harringtons-lover · 2 years

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Masterlist!

Harry Potter (Golden Trio Era):

George Weasley

Fred Weasley

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Ron Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

Cho Chang

Lavender Brown

Ginny Weasley

Tonks

Draco Malfoy

Pansy Parkinson

Cedric Diggory

Fleur Delacor

Seamus Finnigan

Dean Thomas

Older Colin Creevey

Padma Patil

Parvati Patil

Harry Potter (Marauders Era):

Remus Lupin

James Potter

Sirius Black

Peter Pettigrew

Regulus Black

Lily Potter

Scream(1996):

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Poly!Ghostface

Sidney Prescott

Tatum Riley

Randy Meeks

The Outsiders:

Johnny Cade

Ponyboy

Dally

Soda

Darry

Two-Bit

Steve

Diary of a Wimpy Kid:

Rodrick Heffley

Dead Poets Society:

Neil Perry

Charlie Dalton

Todd Anderson

Steven Meeks

Chris

Pittsie

Knox

Cameron

Outer Banks:

JJ Maybank

John B. Rutledge

Kiara Carrera

Pope Hayward

Sarah Cameron

Rafe Cameron

Stranger Things:

Mike Wheeler

Will Byers

Steve Harrington

Dustin Henderson

Lucas Sinclair

Max Mayfield

Eleven (Jane)

Robin Buckley

Jonathan Byers

Nancy Wheeler

The Mighty Ducks:

Charlie Conway

Adam Banks

Jesse Hall

Greg Goldberg

Connie Moreau

Guy Germaine

Julie Gaffney

Fulton Reed

Dean Portman

Luis Mendoza

Dwayne Robertson

Ken Wu

Russ Tyler

Lester Averman

Community:

Abed Nadir

Troy Barnes

Britta Perry

Annie Edison

Jeff Winger

That '90s Show:

Leia Forman

Jay Nelson

Nate

Gwen Rnuck

Ozzie

Niki

That 70s Show:

Eric Forman

Donna Pinciotti

Jackie Burkhart

Steven Hyde

Fez

Michael Kelso

Dazed and Confused:

Randall 'Pink' Floyd

Don Dawson

Slater

Kevin Pick ford

Michelle

Mitch Kramer

____ _ _ _

I will write Character x OC and Character x Reader

I will NOT write going to 'paris' with the Weasley twins or SMUT

Requests can be made on my page

Please be kind<33

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themoonjellycat · 4 years

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Can I request a Charlie x pitts’ sister reader? Maybe the reader comes to visit her brother often, and her and Charlie end up getting close. Then on one visit, maybe Gerard catches the two of them getting ‘close’ in Charlie’s dorm?

a/n: yes ofc !! i love getting requests and i love writing for y’all ! keep sending em in ! i hope you like it :)

it wasn’t really like you could ignore him.he was everywhere, especially when you were around. sometimes it seemed as if he were a magnet, you had felt drawn toward him.

although, it had been tricky, he was one of your older brothers best friends. and don’t get me wrong, you loved your brother and respected what he wished for but charlie was charlie. he could make your heart soar even when he wasn’t there. but as your visits to your brother frequented more and more, the tiny crush you held on charlie started to develop into something much more.

that day, it had been raining (some would say cats and dogs) like a normal fall day in vermont would. splatters of water lined the pavement and your mary jane shoes were not meant for this type of outdoor scheme.

“y/n!” speak of the devil. nuwanda himself, charlie dalton.

“oh, hey charlie!” by this time he had already caught up to you, soaking wet. it looked like he rolled in the mud like a wet dog.

“are you here to visit a mr. gerard again? thats the second time this week.” okay, maybe you weren’t here just for gerard.

“yes but i’m kind of just focused on getting inside at the moment.”

“i don’t know, it seems pretty dry to me” your turned towards to face him but as usual his goofy, lopsided grin played lightly on his face. “pitts isn’t here yet, he went to go golfing with meeks and knox but he’ll probably be back soon. if you want, you can wait in my dorm?” he paused for a second, “i will warn you, cameron might be there.”

starstruck you just nodded and did your best to straighten out your school uniform skirt. though, charlie didn’t seem to notice your nervousness, instead, he continued to chatter on, making dry jokes along the way.

by the time you got to his dorm, you somehow were still freezing and charlie seemed to pick up on that one. a soft plaid shirt was plopped on your shoulders. he sat in front of you trying to adjust it so you would feel at least some warmth.

“thanks” you murmured, not entirely sure what else to say. you had known his reputation as the boy who likes to mess around with girls and just leave them seconds later but you never believed that. because charlie had never given you a reason to prove you otherwise.

“i expected more of a ‘oh thank you charlie, i’m so in love with you, how will i ever repay you?”

giggling you shook your head, “i can’t be expected to live up to anyone expectations of me expect my own.”

he grinned, “good answer.” he leaned in slowly, planting a soft kiss on your nose before he pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling your frame closer and closer until your noses were touching. his lips brushed yours and somehow he tried to pull you in closer. it felt like waves crashing into a concrete wall but at the same time that feeling you get when your whole body ached after a long day. if was this aching, then surprisingly it felt really good to hurt.

unfortunately, good things can’t last forever because the creak of the door opening startled you both and you launched a good few inches away from charlie.

“sorry for uh, interrupting you” pitts stuttered, backing up some.

“wait, you’re not mad?” charlie asked.

“well, no, not really. i don’t control y/n and if she wants to kiss you, i don’t have a say in it.” he nodded in your direction.

you couldn’t help but smile, with both your parents hounding you about everything, it felt nice to have your brother give you space to do what you wanted.

you got what you wanted.

and luckily, it wanted you back

#charlie dalton #charlie dalton imagine #charlie dalton x reader #dead poets society #dead poets society imagine

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byesexualsatan · 3 years

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OTPS/SHIP LIST

i feel like you get to know people better when you know what they ship so... here’s a list of my past & current ships ?? im bored, can u tell?

also if u know me, ignore this ty

MILEVEN aka LITERAL KIDS PLS😭

mike wheeler and eleven/jane hopper from stranger things

otp in late 2017

personal hcs: they’re queer/bi.

eleven def uses they/them pronouns

tbh i prefer byler and elmax now

background ships i like: joyce/hopper, jonathan/nancy... steve being bi and robin being the iconic lesbian that she is

DAMONA aka simonte

... simona and dante from the argentinian series simona

LMAO this one is from when i thought i was straight

otp in 2018

uhh bi dante and pan simona bc why not

literally forgot they existed until now

please don’t bully me

i truly thought i was straight

background ships: marisiena, junior/ailín

i was one of THE FOUNDERS of this ship istg... i was THERE when we were deciding the ship name (i voted for simonte but damona won smh)

SIMBAR aka bi awakening

simón and ambar from the disney tv show soy luna

yeah... sorry

otp in mid 2018

they’re gay!!!

bi she/they punk ambar yesyesyes

totally forgot about them but they’re sexc af

so glad they were endgame

background ships: idk but luna is pan

STEVEBUCKY aka stucky aka the end of the line

so... steve rogers (captain america) and bucky barnes (the winter soldier)

otp in late 2018/early 2019?

personal hcs: trans steve, bi bucky

favourite fanfic trope: found family, high school smau

fuck endgame, all my homies hate endgame

background ships i like: thorbruce, scotthope, nat/sharon

im with u til the end of the line, pal :c

PERALTIAGO aka jamy

jake peralta and amy santiago from brooklyn nine nine

started shipping them in 2018/2019 (i have no idea)

personal hcs: bi jake

favourite fanfic trope: casefics, pretend marriage

(THEY’RE FUCKING MARRIED WITH CHILD NOW,,, BUT IN THOSE FICS IT WASN’T REAL YET)

background ships i like: gina and rosa, holt and kevin

PETERMJ aka spideychelle

peter parker (spider-man) and michelle mj jones !!1! from the mcu

otp in 2019

personal hcs: they’re both bi, mj is demisexual too

he/they & she/they solidarity

... trans/demiboy peter and demigirl mj🥺

fav fanfic trope: school trip to stark tower, meeting the parents/avengers, smau

obviously let’s ignore infinity war and endgame

background ships i like: ironstrange, pepperony, shuri/any woman

THORBRUCE aka gammahammer aka gays in space

thor odinson and bruce banner (hulk) from the mcu

started shipping them in 2019

personal hcs: thor also likes women

they both use they/them and neopronouns too

fav fanfic trope: university au, smau, no civil war, no infinity war

this one is from my stan twitter era

background ships: stucky, tony/strange, nat/sharon, scotthope

CARMUEL aka spanish sexiest couple

carla rosón and samuel garcía from élite

otp in late 2019

...they’re bi. bc yes. and he/they samuel.

she/vers carla sounds very sexc to me

i ‘shipped’ them in s1 simply bc they were both very hot and when it became canon in s2 i SCREAMED

deserved so much better.

INEFFABLE HUSBANDS aka i almost forgot about this one, sorry

crowley and aziraphale from good omens

uhh started shipping them in 2019/2020 ?

bi genderfluid crowley, non-binary aziraphale

idk they’re being anyways

fav trope: raising children!! confusing ppl bc crowley is sometimes a snake!!

background ships: uhh anathema & newton ig?

WOLFSTAR aka the one true way (and... puppies, too??)

sirius black and remus lupin from the harry potter saga

otp since 2020 (thank u, @aretheygayvideos)

personal hcs: he/they gay sirius, he/they bi remus

also love nonbinary remus and genderqueer sirius

fav fanfic trope: getting together !!!! FLUFF!!!!

background ships i like: jegulus, regulus/barty jr, dorlene, jily

VILLANEVE aka murdering wlw

villanelle and eve polastri from killing eve

s.s.t in 2020

she/they bisexual villanelle and pansexual eve

fav fanfic trope: flower/coffee shop :)

ty tumblr for spaming my dashboard when s3 came out bc that forced me to watch it to understand all the posts

sandra oh is the love of my life

ANDERPERRY aka this one is for the depressed dark academia folk

neil perry and todd anderson from dead poets society

started shipping them in 2020

personal hcs: nonbinary neil, trans todd, both gay/androsexual

demiboy/nonbinary todd has a special place in my heart

fav fanfic trope: ALIVE!NEIL, roommates

background ships i like: charlie/knox, meeks/pitts

ZUKKA aka my favourite blue/red gays

sokka and zuko from avatar the last airbender < 3

started shipping them in 2020

personal hcs: gay zuko, genderfluid and bisexual sokka

sokka has adhd !! zuko is autistic !

favourite fanfic trope: fake dating

background ships i like: suki/yue*, ty lee/azula/mai, kataang

* please go check out s4pphos’ ig edit of them

CASMUND aka royal pirate gays !!

caspian x and edmund pevensie from the chronicles of narnia

started shipping them in dec. 2020

personal hcs: bi caspian, mlm edmund

love bisexual and nonbinary edmund too bc 👉projecting👈

fav fanfic trope: just. the plot of the movies but gay.

background ships: the dawn treader (ha-ha, get it? bc ship? im so funny)

tbh i don’t REALLY ship them that hard i just hate caspian/susan lmao

(susan is a lesbian)

BELLARKE aka m/f sexual tension™

bellamy blake and clarke griffin from the 100

started shipping them in 2021

personal hcs: she/they/xe bi clarke, he/ze omni bellamy

favourite fanfic trope: single parent bellamy, modern au (college, roommates)

i saw 2 seasons with my mom and then moved so,,, fuck i gotta finish it

EXTRAS

the “i don’t really ship them but if they’re together it’s better”

ty lee and mai

john watson and sherlock holmes

suki and yue

regulus black and james potter

azula and katara

regulus black and barty crouch jr

bugs bunny and daffy duck

emma and mr knightley

carol danvers and maria rambeau

valkyrie and carol danvers

natasha romanoff and sharon carter

sam wilson and bucky barnes !!! (post endgame)

charlie “nuwanda” dalton and knox overstreet

dorcas meadowes and marlene mckinnon

azula, ty lee and mai

klaus hargreeves and dave

paul coates and alec hardy

cassie and maddy

jules and rue

rue and lexi

fleabag and the hot priest

. . . more to add, probably

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fieldsofdaisies · 3 years

Text

Ayo, Good Morning Beautiful People

Welcome to my blog :D

Current Read: Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen

My name is Olivia, and I've been on Tumblr for over a year but I've just now started to get more into actually writing and interacting. My pronouns are she/her.

I honestly stan a lot of different people depending of what I'm feeling/what they're doing. I absolutely love One Direction and am a no stunts Larrie. Some of my fave actors are Leonardo Dicaprio, Robert Sean Leonard, Gale Hansen, Dove Cameron, and Liz Gillies, and some of my fave musicians are Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, and Taylor Swift. Someday I want to be an author.

Favorite movies/shows: Dead Poets Society, Dynasty, Victorious, Clueless, Schmigadoon!, The Great Gatsby, Titanic, the Twilight saga and Romeo and Juliet.

Favorite ships: Jade x Beck (Victorious), Jack x Rose (Titanic), Nick x Gatsby (The Great Gatsby), Bella x Edward / Bella x Alice / Alice x Jasper (Twilight), Betsy x Danny (Schmigadoon!), Neil x Todd / Charlie x Knox (Dead Poets Society).

Favorite books: The Secret History - Donna Tartt, We Were Villians - M.L. Rio, Dead Poets Society - N.H. Kleinbaum, Romeo and Juliet - William Shakespeare and The Great Gatsby - F. Scott. Fitzgerald Zelda Fitzgerald.

Becasue I absolutely love writing, most of my posts are going to be pretty long and just kinda a collab of a bunch of my ideas, so I apologize in advance haha.

Currently, I am going to be blogging a shit ton about hsmtmts. I've been watching the episodes since they first came out but have just now actually joined the fandom for portwell. I love Matt Cornett and Ej is my fave character. Aside from Ej x Gina I also adore Seb x Carlos.

Fun facts about me: I love collecting CDs and have a CD collection; I have an unhealthy obsession with constantly paining my nails tons of different colors; I love reading, my fave genre is dark academia; my fave bookstores are the Strand Book Store in NYC and the Harvard Book Store in Massachusetts.

Anyways, I am super super friendly so if you ever want to talk/interact, please do. xoxo

Gina: I thought I'd packed a granola bar. I did not.

Ej: I brought you a granola bar incase you were hungry.

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chips1977 · 4 years

Text

WARNING : I'm just an addict ... addicted to music. There are people who are born to make music, o8 thers are born to hearing. Whenever was part of this second group. Maybe it's. a habit, I gotta use, even if it 's rock, jazz or the quiet storm. Great pictures of the things I love - music, painting, books, photography, architecture, design, women, and more. I love music more than lasagna. Better to burn out than fade away. The older you get, the better life gets. But time also seems to be accelerating, the clock running too fast. So, looking at those early days, everything is very slow, stretched, and great significance. The most recent time, I spent busy with simple things.People think rock and roll is only about teenage rebellion, but why can not exist old rebel too? THE RESIDENTS is my Biggest Addiction, and,THE RED KRAYOLA, OLD TIME RELIJUN-ARRINGTON DIONYSO,R. STEVIE MOORE,SHRIMP BOAT,SMEGMA,THE SUN CITY GIRLS, LEGENDARY PINK DOTS,MINIMAL COMPACT,FRANK ZAPPA,CAPTAIN BEEFHEART,THE VELVET UNDERGROUND,THINKING FELLERS UNION LOCAL 282,THE EX,CAN,FAUST,WEEN,TELEVISION,THE MODERN LOVERS,SNAKEFINGER,MILES DAVIS,SUN RA,KRAFTWERK,ANAL MAGIC & REV. DWIGHT FRIZZELL,MICHAEL YONKERS,MOONDOG,THE WORK,RAYMOND SCOTT,THE GO-BETWEENS,SLAPPY HAPPY,ART BEARS,NAKED CITY,HENRY COW,SKELETON CREW,JOHN ZORN,FRED FRITH,THE FIBONACCIS,BONGWATER-MARK KRAMER,SHOCKABILLY,BAND OF SUSANS,THE PAINTEENS,STUMP,RENALDO AND LOAF,CERTAIN GENERAL,THE THREE JOHNS,CHROME,PRIMUS-LES CLAYPOOL,EUGENE CHADBOURNE,ESKIMO, MINUTEMEN, MISSION OF BURMA,FUGAZI,BLURT, GLAXO BABIES,THIS HEAT,THE SEA AND CAKE,SAVAGE REPUBLIC,TUXEDO MOON, XTC,U.S,MAPLE,THE PAPER CHASE,DANIEL SMITH- DANIELSON FAMILE ....... Other musical priorities are: HENRY FLYNT, THE FEELIES,PERE UBU,THE CLASH, JOY DIVISION, PROTOMARTYR, CAR SEAT HEADREST,THE BETTER-BEATLES, DARKSIDE,THE MEMBRANES, THEATRE OF HATE, NOCTURNAL PROJECTIONS,THE LINES,CARDINAL,CLEANERS FROM VENUS,THE JAZZ BUTCHER, ELVIS COSTELLO,THE MONOCHROME SET, TELEVISION PERSONALITIES, ALTERNATIVE TV, GONG,ANNIE ANXIETY, THE DEL-BYZANTEENS, WALL OF VOODOO, BUTHOLE SURFERS, RICHARD DAWSON, MAC DeMARCO,WOVEN HAND,16 HORSEPOWER, DAVID EUGENE EDWARDS,SHELLAC, SLINT-PAPA M-DAVID PAJO, LUNGFISH, OM, EARTH,THE BOOK OF KNOTS,LOUNGE LIZARDS-JOHN LURIE,ANTON FIER-GOLDEN PALOMINOS,PETER BLEGVAD,PETER HAMMILL,TOMAHWAK,FANTOMAS,MR. BUNGLE, MIKE PATTON, SUICIDE-MARTIN REV+ALAN VEGA,AARON FREEMAN,JAPAN,STEREOLAB, SPACEMEN 3, SPECTRUM, SWELL MAPS, SILVER APPES, SWELL,MORPHINE, HAWKWIND, DEVO,FLYING LIZARDS, MAGAZINE, RALPH CARNEY,ROBERT WYATT, JOHN WILKES BOOZE, KEVIN COYNE, DAEVID ALLEN, SLEEPYTIME GORILLA MUSEUM, MX-80 SOUND, SOPOR AETERNUS & The ENSEMBLE of SHADOWS, THE AUTEURS,MAN MAN, DAMIEN JURADO, DAVID DONDERO, CHAD VANGALLEN, LONG FIN KILLIE, MAGIC TRICK-TIN COHEN, CHRIS COHEN, DAVID BAZAN,VAMPIRE RODENTS, JON WAYNE, PRAM,THE OLIVIA TREMOR CONTROL, PAVEMENT, PATTI SMITH, FUGS, PEARLS BEFORE SWINE-TOM RAP, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA-JOSEPH BYRD, FAMILY, GODZ, BONZO DOG DOO DAH BAND,PENTANGLE,THE INCREDIBLE STRING BAND, SLOVENLY, CHEER- ACCIDENT, TARWATER, COIL,THROBBING GRISTLE, SHAWN LEE, CLUTCHY HOPKINS, JURYMAN AKA IAN SIMMONDS AKA WISE IN TIME+SANDALS, ZOOGZ RIFT, THE BOOKS,NEW THRILL PARADE, CHRIS KNOX , DAVID KILGOUR,THE BATS,THE CLEAN,THE PIN GROUP, CRIME CITY SOLUTION, ROWLAND S. HOWARD,TOM WAITS, VIC CHESNUTT, JOE HENRY, ALEJANDRO ESCOVEDO,THE TAPE BEATLES,THE GUN CLUB, MAGAZINE,THE DENGUE FEVER,THE PAPER CHASE,THE FIERY FURNACES,THE MICROPHONES-PHIL ELVRUM,GARY WAR,RAILROAD JERK, KARL BLACK- SOCK HEADDED PETERS-LEMON KITTENS,THE MUSIC TAPES,THE SHAGGS, BOBB TRIMBLE, FISH AND ROSES, DIABLO SWING ORCHESTRA,POP D`ELL ARTE,MLER IF DADA,TOM ZÉ, WALTER FRANCO,OS MUTANTES,CAETANO VELOSO,MILTON NASCIMENTO, ARNALDO ANTUNES,VINICIUS CANTUARIA,JORGE BEN,CAZUZA,CEREBRO ELECTRONICO,CORDEL DE FOGO ENCANTADO,ROGERIO SKYLAB,OTTO, MOMBOJÓ,CRIOULO,MAX CASTRO, METÁ METÁ, ATALHOS, ROMULO FROES,WADO,ORQUESTRA IMPERIAL, LENINE,APANHADOR SÓ,MUNDO LIVRE SA,NAÇÃO ZUMBI, ALÇEU VALENÇA,ANT- BEE, BILL FAY,RON SEXSMITH,EL GUAPO,DAVID GRUBS,TORTOISE, SAM PREKOP, GASTR DEL SOL,HENRY KAISER,HOME & GARDEN, BOB DRAKE, MY DEAD IS DEAD, AKRON FAMILY, SWANS,THESE IMMORTAL SOULS, UNREST WORK & PLAY,THE TAPE BEATLES,THIS KIND OF PUNISHMENT,SWOLLEN MONKEYS (Ralph Carney) LIARS, SNAPPED ANKLES, CAVERN ANTI-MATTER, GANG GANG DANCE, THE DAMAGE MANUAL,THE BLACK ANGELS,SCOUT NIBLET,DIE FORM,LONELADY,COP SHOOT COP,WAR ON DRUGS,THE MONKS,TIM HUEY,TRACHTENBURG FAMILY,THE TRIFFIDS,THE CRUEL SEA,THE MEKONS,THE METOD ACTORS,THE SOFT BOYS,THE MISTAKES,THE MOUNTAIN GOATS,THE NEW CREATION, BRUCE HAACK, LOREN MAZZACANE CONNORS,GLEN BRANCA,ALBERT MARCOEUR,LOS ANGELES FREE MUSIC SOCIETY, SHELLEY HIRSCH,NEW YORK GONG,THE POLYPHONIC SPREE,LYDIA LUNCH,LOVE, LUCIA PAMELA,FATIMA MIRANDA,SAFETY SCISSOR S,RICHARD HELL & VOIDOIDS, SACCHARINE TRUST, ADAM FORKNER of [[[[VVRSSNN]]] YUME BITSU, ROY MONTGOMERY,RUN ON, LOVELY LITTLE GIRLS,SAFETY SCISSORS, BRIDE OF NO NO,TONE DOGS,TREAT HER RIGHT,TRIPOD JIMMIE,LIFTER PULLER,THEY MIGHT BY GIANTS,GANG OF FOUR,THE POP GROUP, WIRE, JOSEPH K, ORANGE JUICE, RAIN PARADE, THE GREEN ON REED, THE RENDERS,SOUL COUGHING-MIKE DOUGHTY, MAZARIN, KARATE- GEOFF FARINA, SECRET STARS,THE CHURCH, BLANK DOGS, FROG EYES, JOAN OF ARC, PURE X, YUNG WU,WAKE OOLOO, SPEED THE PLOUGH, DRIVE BY TRUCKERS, CAMPER VAN BEETHOVEN, MARTIN NEWELL, ERLAND and The CARNIVAL, CRIPPLED BLACK PHOENIX,CALIFONE,RED RED MEAT, LOW, Eels, LOWER DENS,THE BLACK HEART PROCESSION, KING MISSILE, THE NOTWIST, CLINIC, QUICKSPACE,THE COMSAT ANGELS,THE ASSOCIATES, EZRA FURMAN and THE HARPOONS, EFF BARZELAY, BORN RUFIANS, FERGUS & GERONIMO, CHAIN AND THE GANG-IAN SEVENONIOUS-WEIRD WAR-THE MAKE UP,ESCAPIST,MOONFACE, DEAN BLUNT,COLLEEN,ZERO 7,THREE MILE PILOT,LIFE WITHOUT BUILDINGS, CLOUD CULT,BLACKOUT BEACH,PINBACK,ARIEL PINK,MAGIC HOUR,MAJOR STARS, MAPS & ATLASES, MEGAFAUN,MENOMENA,TAME IMPALA, AMPS FOR CHRIST,ARBOURETUM,TRUE WIDOW,NANA GRIZOL,TIMBER TIMBRE,THE, IMPOSSIBLE SHAPES,THE LOVE EVERYTHING,THE MAE SHI, DEAD SKELETONS,THE SHIPPING NEWS,NEW WET KOJAK,GIRLS AGAINTS BOYS,LES SAVY FAV,GERMAN SHEPHERDS,SILKWORM,DIANOGAH,31 KNOTS,90 DAY MEN, 17 PYGMIES,PARENTHETICAL GIRLS, GUN OUTFIT,VAMPIRE RODENTS, PUMA JAW-PINKIE MACLURE and JOHN WILLS, SLUG GUTS, DOG FACED HERMANS, GOD IS MY CO-PILOT, THE SKULL DEFEKTS, CUL de SAC, PELL MELL, FOR CARNATION, MARVIN PONTIAC, ARIEL PINK, FLAT WORMS, AMEN DUNES, IDDLES, WAXAHATCHEE, WOLF PARADE, SUN KILL MOON, NATALIE PRESS ,CHELSEA WOLFE, SHILPA RAY, INCA SILVER, IBEYI, ANGEL OLSEN,THE COMET IS COMING,SLEAFORD MODS, VAGABOND, SUUNS, MADONNATRON, BIG THIEF, FAT, SHAME, SAVAGES, ICEAGE, OMNI, PARQUET COURTS, WHITE FAMILY, LYDA HUSIK, SHARON VAN ETTEN, dEUS, MITSKI, LAUREL HALO,JULIA HOLTER, MARISSA NADLER, JOSEPHINE FOSTER,TRACY BRYANT, MALE GAZE, TY SEGALL,THEE OH SEES, TYVEK, GOAT, WAND,YUCK, THE MOONLANDINGZ, VIET CONG, OUGHT, ALLAH-LAS,THE FRESH & ONLYS, WHITE FENCE, LAURA MARLING, EMA, PHAEDRA, LHASA, FIRST AID KIT, JANE WEAVER, WYE OAK, CAROLINER AKA CAROLINER RAIBOW ... E gosto de viajar, andar de bicicleta, de comboios, de animais.... não gosto de pessoas superficiais... sem cultura.Gosto de dança, de arte o que quer que isso seja!. Não gosto da monotonia. Gosto de criticar no sentido positivo. Não gosto de sonhar em ficar rico. Gosto do “Vive cada dia como se fosse o último “. Não gosto de despedidas. Gosto de pormenores.Gosto de perfumes. Não gosto de mentir nem que me mintam, não suporto hipócritas.Gosto do mar. Não gosto de quem não acredita em nada e não se importa com nada e tem a profundidade de uma colher... Gosto de viajar, gosto de ajudar e de saber que pude ser útil a alguém em qualquer coisa. Não gosto da efemeridade da vida e da constante lembrança da proximidade da morte. Não gosto de não perceber. Não gosto de atrasos e de quem não é capaz de cumprir as suas promessas, não gosto de quem volta atrás com a sua palavra e ainda menos que voltem atrás comigo. Não gosto da cusquice.Gosto de amigos e da camaradagem, não gosto das” amizades “que se perdem por coisas que no final das contas não significam nada... Gosto de palavras e de conversas sem fim... Gosto de pessoas originais, com humor,com ideias próprias... e com classe. Não gosto de carinho quando estou nervoso.Gosto do campo. Não gosto de seguir a onda.Gosto de coisas pouco claras, mas bem esclarecidas. Gosto de dominar. Não gosto de brincar com os sentimentos dos outros.Gosto de toques e de trocas de olhar, de demonstrações de carinho e de cenas sensuais. Não gosto de ficar bêbado até dizer a verdade. Gosto da grandeza das coisas simples, e gosto de coisas complicadas mas não gosto de complicações... O comum não me atrai, gosto normalmente de coisas que passam despercebidas... Gosto de gostar e de não gostar de tudo isto e muito mais...

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socketz · 4 years

Text

All is Pain in Poetry, But, Oh, The Play Goes On; Chapter One.

A Dead Poets Society Fanfiction story!

Charlie Dalton x Female!OC

Warnings : Mentions of Abuse, slight *slight* signs of it, mentions of bullying, name-calling I suppose, profanity, smoking, just some people bein’ mean :/

Word Count : like 11k (I’m pretty sure)

Summary : It’s the introductory day, unpleasant to speak the least, and Jane rejoins a few familiar faces.

Authors Note : There is like barely any Charlie content in this chapter (forgive me, pls) simply because it is the first, and I have so many plans for this being a sloooow burner. Anyways, I love Nuwanda, Meeksy, Pittsie, Neil, Todd, and Knox. Cameron can die. I also just realised that there’s no Pittsie in this chapter :// it’s okay though, our long boy will be there in the second, I promise.

Chapter One, The Summer Was No Better, But Hell-ton’s Surely Death.

“Come, now, Jane.” Father called, his suit elated to a perfect crisp. His face contorted with that of a ghostly scowl, drawn down and impossible to relieve. Father was not an impressionable person, though most certainly easy to disappoint.

I made my way, wordlessly, to fall beside him, and found my complexion flushed with something of a gentle scarlet hue, nerves to embrace oneself in a mantra of lightly peppered sweat. My uniform - a dreadful thing, really - had been fitted during the summer; ‘You are but a young Lady, now, Jane,’ Father had insisted, ‘It is only right to find your clothing of a perfect fit.’ Though it had hardly mattered the years before, smothered within the lies my Father somehow wriggled us out of, and I could bitterly recall that it mattered not then, either.

I felt ridiculous, swaddled in the warmth of a blazer, littered with perfectly aligned badges - meaningless copper circles, infused with the reminder of every stupid achievement I had picked up throughout my years - and long, iron-pressed, grey trousers - enclosed with a tight-fitting belt, for the weight I had seemed to loose beneath the summer heat had made an alarming appearance, and it seemed all too improper to alter them a mere seventy-two hours before the introductory day. The shirt - blouse, as I had never before become accustomed to occupying - was of a snug fit, particularly comfortable upon my partially flat breast, the tie hardly a bump higher than the other boys’.

My shoes, shining with a fresh layer of polish, squeaked upon the echoing floor of the filling hall, and I found a breath slipping from my clenched jaw. It would merely be the same routine as every year had solemnly been. And, - I had no doubt about this, you understand - I knew I would grow to loathe it all the same.

“Chin up, Jane.” Father scolded, a sharp pinch to the back of my arm. I hardly reacted, ripping myself away from such a close proximity, and fixed my expression with something blank, jaw set and teeth grinding. The walls, the candles - the scentless gloom that filled the air - reminded me of nothing other than Death. Than everything morose and unethical.

The bench was cold, lifeless, and I found a sour taste to elope my grimace, subliminally displeased to be trapped within the grounds of Hell-ton for another draining, horrible, year. A low level of murmurs ran along the sea of suited heads, and I nearly - almost, though not quite - found an ache of sympathy for the innocent youths, trembling nervously, within the front row. Such excitement, I sighed, such naivety. They shall be ruined, it seemed clear, by the haunting excrement Hell-ton deemed ‘successful methoding.’

There was a poke to my side, the ratty whisper of an antagonizing tone. “Feels good to be home, huh?” Peter taunted, undoubtedly pleased to rid of myself for the better side of ten months.

My silence remained, an ache to the clench in my jaw, and I simply hoped that his teasing would soon dissolve upon quiet nothingness. Though, as he prodded my side - supposedly the older twin, mind you - and he mumbled crude names within my ear, I found it reasonable that a lack of response would do little to deter his act of childishness.

“Rat.” He whispered, prodding my side once again - a jab sure to leave an inklet of a mark. “God, I can’t wait to get rid of you. Two months by your side is enough to push me over the edge. I’d surely contemplated killing myself-”

“Oh, why don’t you, then?” I snapped, a glare surely cut to burn. Of course, I didn’t mean it, though I found myself unwilling to project any kind of apology. He hardly deserved it, and I - as well as him, it seemed - had had just about enough of his relentless bullying. “Leave me alone, Peter.” I said.

He scoffed something bitter, “At least I’d be missed, Snot-face.” He bit.

I doubted it was much of a lie, and settled for a roll of the eyes. “Fuck off, Mutt.”

“Billy-no-mates.” He hissed.

“Worthless narcissist.” I sneered.

“Virgin.”

“Self aggrandising cunt.”

“Moron.”

“Boring, talentless, vegetable-” “Stop it!” Father snapped, another hushed whisper to intervene that of our own. I had hardly realised our spluttered, mumbled, argument, and the way in which it seemed to progress, “Both of you.” Father muttered, quiet and surely furious. And yet, although it seemed it was not I whom began the fight, at all, my hair was ragged by Father's rough grip, and I were forced to attain a regularly seated position. I hissed upon the contact, a scowl to thunder my expression. “You will not embarrass me again, Jane.” He sneered.

My silence loomed once more, and his grip released roughly, a violent jerk to my neck as he did so. Jane, I thought, an internally suppressed scoff, It’s always Jane’s fault.

The blare of a riveting shrill erupted from the southern doors, clunking open in their heavy weight, and the bagpipes - those terrible things, awful, truly - began their entrance. A sigh slipped the breach of my lips, for I knew this mantra, and I knew it well. In a kind of solemnly delightful way, I suppose I was enthralled to enjoy my final experience of such liberal torture - it was my last year, after all.

A pair of first-years trailed to the front of the line, followed by a blonde boy - of whom’s name I had forgotten, though he wore glasses, and was rather small - from my own year. The dreadful musician was to follow, and I decided to pay him no mind - perhaps ignorantly so - as the banners began to flutter forth.

Tradition - upheld by none other than the snobby, pristine and particularly ginger Mr Cameron, a boy of whom mine own experiences seemed rather potently bad.

Discipline - a familiar, soft, face. An expression of boredom, nonetheless, though I found a certain fondness about Knox, and thus my gaze seemed to brighten. He was a gentle boy, kind, sensitive.

Honour - I hardly recognized him, though his… his similarity - a striking thing, one must admit - to Peter’s level in intelligence seemed all too familiar, through the grave number of classes we had shared across the years.

Excellence - Neil Perry, a boy in which I knew little of, yet heard so much about. The sweetest of souls, the saddest of smiles - trapped, was Perry, in a loop his parents laid down. Perhaps I found a little of myself engulfed within his big brown eyes, upon the rare occurrence we happened to share a glance - always a grin, always a wave. Polite, the boy was, and nothing but the fact. For my life was nothing but the script in which I had been given, raised upon lies and bred to know no freedom, and he was much the same.

There was a curt breath of silence, and the boys shuffled into line. It seemed the song had finished - a heavenly notion - and the perplexing weight of Mr Nolan’s tone - a sound no better than that of nails to a chalkboard - fell upon the seated audience. “Ladies, and Gentlemen.” He said. Oh, how I hated his voice. “Boys.” The summer had been long, tedious, and I liked it no more than I could have, and yet still - still, despite the liberal torture, and the inevitable bullying of mine own blood - it were of a better nature than this.

This, of course, that was Mr Nolan, and his lengthy speeches, drawled upon every sentiment with a mean glare, or a calculating stare.

“The light of knowledge.” He declared, tone blank, devastatingly boring. For although I could not shed a glance to the nervous boys, perched stoically, within the front row, and their expression remained ambiguous, I knew the routine all too well. There was a loud rip of applause, and I knew - within a moment's notice, as Father glared pointedly for my compliance - that the first candle had been lit.

The boys, aligned to the front, circled to their seats, maneuvering among my peripheral vision. The ruckus had died down, and I slumped - only slightly, as to deter from a kind of beating - unto myself, lightly distracted by my heavy-lidded eyes. Oh, I scolded, how stupid I had been, to lie awake all night reading.

Nolan began his speech, undoubtedly much the same as it always seemed to be, and I took a deliberately long moment to gaze upon the great array of teachers. It would seem, I noticed, with a harshly contained grin, that they were all particularly deathly looking. Perhaps, over the course of the summer, they had been returned to their graves, where their corpses lay to rest for the period of time - only to be dug up again as the school year returned. They seemed so withered, so pale - lifeless. Though I supposed it was particularly fitting, really; deathly teachers for a murderous school.

“Gentlemen,” Nolan bellowed, “What are the four pillars?”

Another sigh, I breathed, standing among the sonorous chorus of muffled shuffling. “Tradition, Honor, Discipline, Excellence.” We sang, a recital of the faculty’s pounding, and took our seats once more.

His rambling continued, and I found myself physically incapable of paying it any mind - one would simply drift into a noticeable dream of slumber - as I drank in the sullen scowls of the boys reluctantly returning. I, myself, reciprocated a glance of hidden blue, and I knew that they simply loathed the man - Nolan - much the same as I.

It was rather strange, really - the way in which my attendance to Hell-ton came about. For I was eleven: much the same nervous, wilted, and shelled child as the boys of the front row, and my application was riddled with lies.

Name : Peter Joseph Darling, the first line read. Only, as I had continually pestered my Father upon, my name was Jane Elizabeth Darling, and my twin brother - Peter, you understand - should have been clothed within the uniform, instead. ‘He hasn’t the mind of you, Jane.’ Father had scoffed, mocking, as though I should have known better. Though I still didn’t understand. ‘Welton is an excellent opportunity, and they have accepted you, through the name of your brother.’ My misunderstanding, as I came to dislodge many a month later, were perfectly reasonable. Why was I, a girl, to attend an all boys boarding school, with the faux persona of my twin brother? It seemed strange, though - in my foolish naivety that youth would always bring - I found no reason to protest upon my Father’s wishes, and complied nonetheless.

I was a late bloomer - much as my Mother had been, as old relatives would jest - and thus my identity was easily concealed - hair to be cut, in a similar style to the other little boys, and my figure hidden by the tatter of oversized suits.

I became - rather unfortunately, on mine own behalf - one of the best students ever to attend Hell-ton. ‘Top grades,’ Father would boast - as though he had ever congratulated me, before - ‘our Jane is something truly spectacular. The top of every class, and a routine winner in almost every sporting category.’ Though what he said was true, it made it no less frustrating and mortifying, as he would babble on about my achievements, and leave no room for a word in edgeways. It seemed the only time he could bother to call, were if my report card had yet to arrive, or there was something - unexplained, you understand - for myself to receive the blame.

‘Jane.’ He would bellow, tone furious over the line, ‘Your report card.’ He would then say, as though it were I who sent them off. ‘Where is it? It had better be here tomorrow, young Lady.’

Sometimes, I hated my Father, too. He made it frustratingly difficult not to - though, admittedly, I tried little to stop my fury.

It seemed, however, that his plan were not entirely fool-proof. For when I did begin to develop breasts - as flat as they may be -, with little curves, and a more womanly figure, it was surely something noticeable. And my hair had grown out, over the months of neglect, and I allowed the soft blonde curls to have their way - and, suddenly, I looked far more a girl than ever before.

My face, although chiselled by my petite weight, grew more round, less sharp - feminine. The rise of my cheekbones increased, and my eyelashes found a natural curve. Perhaps I could have considered myself pretty, if it weren’t for the insistent teasing Peter had enforced upon me. Thus, instead, I depicted myself ordinary, and decided to move on.

Nolan, upon discovering my true identity - though how such a thing had gone unnoticed, before, I had no idea - riddled himself sick with rage. His expulsion threat was vengeful, and he loathed my Father’s guts. Such conflict had only truly occurred eighteen or so months before, and thus the tension seemed inevitably thick, whenever I found myself surrounded by the ever-depressing company of Nolan. I discovered a true beating upon Father’s account, for poorly concealing his awfully supported lies - ‘You cannot even pretend - not for a godforsaken moment - to be a boy,’ he had yelled, as I spat my blood upon the floor, ‘You shall learn to listen to me, Jane.’ And teach me to listen, he surely had.

Fortunately, though I hardly see such as fortunate, at all, Nolan had - somewhat reluctantly, somewhat pretentiously - decided that my education be isolated, and my attendance a nuisance. My grades - my high, substantial, grades - seemed enough to access his persuasion; my lack of discussion and silent account another contributing factor; my sporting ability and lack of complaint a cherry on top for it all, as it should so seem. He found himself obliging to my continuation at Hell-ton, and I - perhaps expectedly - were undoubtedly disappointed. To leave such hellish faculty would be something joyous - greatly anticipated. Alas, there I was, sat - again - among the rows of morose expressions and pressuring parents.

My dormitory, that year, was to be separated. Not a roommate, neither a shared bathroom - utter isolation. I minded not for the quiet, nor the lack of company, though it should seem the segregated seating within lesson perched a little too far, for my liking. It was rather ridiculous, I should have thought, that male brains were incapable of focusing upon the task at hand with a female sat to their left. Pathetic! Utterly, truly, pathetic.

I had been branded a number of grilling rules - mandatory to abide by, you understand.

1. No perfume.

2. Hair is to be kept up, tied tightly, and not disruptive.

My hair, you see, was not a particularly easy tamer. Rampant blonde curlage, spilling from every direction. I could hardly control it on the better days, never mind every day.

3. Skirts, or dresses, to be worn below the knee (if at all) and shoulders should remain contained at all times.

4. No make up.

5. No fraternizing with other students.

6. Meals are to be eaten alone, or not at all.

7. Curfew is at 8:30PM.

8. Toiletry business should be contained to a seperate bathroom, use the locker room provided - NOT the male students’.

The list truly seemed to go on, and on, and it surely rambled for far too long - I had merely shared a glance with such paper, and thrown it to my bag in retaliation. Meals to be eaten alone? I had hardly the chance to converse between lessons - never mind during - and no longer could I discuss, nor listen in upon, with others among meals? It was true bullshit, for I knew such were never applied to me before - before they discovered my true identity. And the curfew - eight-thirty p.m - was utterly ridiculous. What was I to do for thirty minutes more, idle within my room, with not but a roommate to keep me company? The boys’ curfew was hardly nine p.m, anyhow - they were always allowed an extra number of minutes or so, and I knew - I hated it, but I knew - that I would have not but a choice to comply.

To enjoy my stay, - at Hell-ton, you understand - seemed merely impossible - as a woman. Or, rather, to be known as a woman. For although its endeavours were painfully unbearable for the boys, it was all so much worse for I. The rules and regulations simply doubled in their length, and the eyes of concentration, inflicted by those of great authority, I found only to increase. Depressingly so.

Oh, how I hated it all.

“Jane,” Father hissed; a sharp jab to my side, and a smirking Peter. “Pay attention, would you?” He whispered, a furious glint to his icy blue glare. The roar of applause began to die down, and I found myself gathering my hands at the final few claps, settling within the silence once more.

Nolan spoke again, his tone ever-droned, ever-dull. “As you know,” he said, chin tilted with a fauxly embodied confidence I hardly understood his deserving of, “our beloved Mr. Portius - of the English department - retired last term.” Mr Portius were nothing more than a rotting corpse with the political beliefs of all things dreadful. An awful man, truly. “You will have the opportunity later to meet his replacement,” He said, turning something gradual - no doubt riddled with arthritis, and with marrowing bones - to meet the seat of the said replacement. “Mr. John Keating.”

Keating stood, and his stature was comfortably acceptable. He were of something small - noticeably shorter than the other corpses - and his expression dripped in kindness. His thin lips played a soft smile, and his eyes gazed tenderly - calculating, but gentle, nonetheless - upon the great array of prying students.

“Himself an honours graduate of this school,” Nolan droned on. “And who, for the past several years, has been teaching at the highly regarded Chester School, in London.”

He was good, then, it seemed. The low rumble of shuffling rang among the hall, as students and parents, alike, maneuvered their gaze to fumble upon his position of casual confidence. Another, small, round of applause was to follow, and I - for perhaps the first time - voluntarily joined in.

Keating took his seat, and the clapping drew to a close.

“As I’m sure you are aware,” Nolan continued, addressing the audience with that monotonous death. “This year may seem a little different.” His gaze wandered, scrutinizing - harrowing - and settled upon I - upon Father, Peter, and I. I held his glare, cold and stubborn, for I would never have allowed myself to succumb to the fright in which he inflicted upon others. “This year, there is to be a girl in attendance.”

A low hum of mumbles rang out, and the subtle gasps of distraught Mothers were something pathetically blatant. I found myself deeply suppressing the urge to scoff; I were a girl before, in the years of my previous attendance, thus what did it matter, now?

“Miss Darling,” He bellowed, tone fit to carry among the greatest disturbance. A moment of nothingness graced the hall, as the murmurs of concerned Mothers, and outraged Fathers, simply rose in their volume. “Miss Darling.” Nolan echoed, his tone of something hauntingly venomous. A sigh slipped from upon my lips, and I rose to my feet with a glance of perfect nonchalance.

Silence.

The corner of my mouth found a quiver, for - Oh - were they all so frightened of me that they should hardly breathe? The smirk was riddled with amusement, bloomed from the very depth of my stomach, for their quiet hatred, and their burning silence, were all so wonderfully foolish.

Nolan sneered, gaze writhing with gauging disgust - sewn by the tattle of hierarchy, and of misogyny. “Miss Darling is to accommodate her own - separate - housing,” he began, dislodging his stare and addressing his crowd. “There will be no contact between herself, and the boys. You needn’t worry for their concentration, Ladies and Gentlemen.” His wry smile was something sickening, as it danced upon his wrinkled lips.

Die, I thought, die with your pathetic beliefs, and die a horrible death.

~*~

The breeze of the fresh air seemed so close, so delicious, as we approached the ever-slow line, all smiles and polite passing greetings, yet so unfortunately far. I trailed after Father, step slow and gradual, certain his discussion would be tense, and it would be awful. “Mr. Nolan,” Father greeted, somewhat sheepishly, somewhat humorously. The old gargoyle glanced - unappreciative - to his nervously outstretched hand, shaking it with something of a pointedly stern glare.

“Frank.” He nodded, tight-lipped and utterly infuriating. For although I held no sympathy for my Father, nor for the manner in which Nolan depicted respectable as he addressed him, the mere sight of his wrinkled person found my scowl something deep, something noticeable.

“Wonderful ceremony, as always.” Father smiled. “And I must thank you for allowing my Jane into your school.” He said, as though it were not I who attended the years before.

“Yes, yes,” Nolan smiled, a ghostly thing, with a hollow foreground. “Well, I’m sure she is aware of the expectations, yes?” His stare fell upon myself, as I nodded silently, unable to erase the distaste within my gaze. “I will warn you, Miss Darling,” He continued, features to crease with that of an aggravated scowl. “Not to cross me. One wrong move,” He threatened, a wonky kind of finger held before me, “and you’re out.”

One morning, I thought; one morning, you shall never wake up - and, oh, that morning will be such a blissful morning.

Biting my tongue, I spoke with a faux sentiment, cheery toned and smiling kindly. “Of course, Sir.” I said. “I won’t let you down.” Fuck you, I wished to spit, though I simply turned upon my heel, and I stumbled away from his cautiously prying eyes, gripped by the harsh digits of Father’s stern hold.

“You’ll see yourself to your room, I suspect.” Father said, tone withdrawn and utterly blank. Cold - Father, he was a cold man. My silence remained, though I nodded responsively, and allowed a solemn breath to slip the breach of my lips. The days, such melancholic tales, of summer - they were bad. They were awful - but at least they were not quite as lonely. A gentle sting graced the back of my eyes, and my jaw set achingly; an overwhelming urge to dispel my bitten tears a wave of unwanted suddenness. Wretched. For I did not want to be alone, I did not wish to be consumed by the ever-growing loneliness that life enforced upon me - I wished to be happy, free. Myself.

Not Peter, not Miss Darling - Jane. Just Jane.

I bit back the tears - I swallowed them whole, and I winced as they clawed upon my throat, cautious as to speak, for their wounds may crack in my tone, and damage my composure. But my smile, it was forced, and my eyes, they were glossy. “Do not disappoint me, Jane.” Father said. “I expect nothing but the best.” And with that, he was gone.

Not but a mutter of goodbye; not but a touch of parental affection - nothing. The glaze upon my expression dropped slightly, a drooped frown to occupy my solemn features, and the smirk Peter threw over his shoulder - barreled beside my Father, with his strides large, confident - merely seemed to ache the clench of my throat.

God, my conscience spat, don’t be pathetic.

And so, I balled my hands into fists, and I shoved them into my pockets; watched my Father leave, and I attempted to scrape together every time he told me he loved me. I came up with nothing - not but an utter of affection - and I remained true to my scowl, caught among the breeze, and the bustle of crying children, and loving parents. Perhaps I could have been jealous, as I glanced to the first years, embraced by the doting adoration of their guardians - though how could I force myself to envy a thing I had never known?

The answer? I couldn’t. And so, I didn’t.

I allowed my shoulders to sink, and I returned my gaze to the retreating vehicle - the vehicle that ached a certain - particularly ignored - part of myself. I wondered of Mother - a brief moment, though striking, nonetheless - and I pondered what she would be like. For - yes, - she was gone, and to think of such was simply barbaric, but a girl could dream. A girl could dream that she were loved, and that all of which could have been, would be so wonderful. Maybe if Mother were here, I thought, I wouldn’t feel so lonely.

And, perhaps wishful thinking were foolish, and a dream unworthy of time - but it helped. It dulled the ache, though maybe only that little bit, and that were enough for me.

The car was gone, lost among the mass of chaotic departure, and I found myself staring absently upon the horizon. How beautiful the sky did seem, I thought, and how well it masked destruction.

My luggage had been dropped - previously - within my room, by Peter’s graceful volunteer. And, albeit reasonably, I were slightly fearful for the mess I would grow to discover, as I entered the living quarters - for I knew, and I knew it well, that Peter loathed me greatly, and he would do anything to tip me off. Perhaps that would be enough, I smiled, sadly, and to myself, to trigger the release of all things morose and bitterly withheld.

Nevertheless, I found myself glumly retreating, making my way - pushed, knocked, and shoved, by bags, by luggage, and apologetic elbows - through the courtyard, and through the entrance of the school. My silence was something looming - it hung above my head, I could feel it - and it only seemed to darken with the realisation that this was reality, and that my stay would surely get no better.

Oh, how I ached for something good - something nice, to carry me through my days.

“Jane?” A familiar tone called, though I daren’t glance around for it’s owner. Silence. Silence. Silence - ‘tis your only company, I thought, know no better, feel no different. “Jane!” They called once more - Knox. I found myself sighing, for I knew I could not evade his greeting forever, and he was much too polite, much too kind, to simply ignore. “Hey,” He smiled, gentle and friendly.

The scowl crumbled from my features, and I plastered on a joyous smile - teeth bared and glistening; believable. “Knox!” I chirped, allowing my expression to elope with a sense of delight. Our paths had crossed a number of times upon the past years, and thus a kind of acquaintance was to be formed. Nothing special, nothing particularly close, but he was a nice boy - a delightful chat. “How’s your summer?” I asked.

“Great.” He sighed, grin riddled with a dream. “Busy,” he added, “but great.”

My smile softened, “Oh, yeah?” I said, and he nodded subtly, smirk uneven and boyish - always boyish.

“Yeah.” He sighed, again, before drawing his eyebrows to a loose pinch, “What about you, Darl’?” He asked, “Nobody heard from you all summer. Where’d you go for two months?” I shrugged something light - nowhere, I thought to admit, though what fell from my tongue was nothing but another lie.

“I went home.” I said, “Back to England.” ‘Twas nothing of a home - not for me.

I was beaten by my Father, and I was bullied by my brother - I was bed bound with the illness of my own crepent mind, and I found myself unable to answer the ringing phone, though I am awfully sorry for your inconvenience, Mr Overstreet - I shall be sure to spit my blood before I say ‘Hello’, yes?

Of course, my thoughts remained thoughts, and my expression a blank nothingness behind my smile, behind my eyes. “That sounds wonderful.” He said, those dough brown orbs shining with a kind of genuineness - so honest, so true, I almost felt bad. “I bet it was nice, there, was it? Such beautiful scenery, and I bet the tea was good.” His smile was infectious, and I breathed a supple laugh.

“The tea was perfect,” I said, “though the scenery - if we’re discussing the same London, here - was filled with nothing but Homelessness, and pollution.”

“Oh,” He frowned, “that’s too bad.”

Too bad? I thought; Too bad? Knoxie, my summer was horrifying.

I shrugged gently, “It’s alright.” I said, “I’m used to it.” Though to which context I had attempted to console, I held little knowledge of.

He smiled once more, “I’d only expect you to be.” He said, beginning to wander away; one step, two steps, three steps, four. His gaze fixed upon myself, he smiled - his eyes, they smiled - and he said: “You comin’?” With a nod of nonchalant amusement.

I raised an eyebrow, “Where to, Overstreet?”

“Why, to the guys, of course.” He grinned.

And by guys, I, fortunately, knew that he meant his friends: Neil Perry (the kind boy, of whom I shared a likeliness for terrible Fathers and passion for things they did not approve); Gerard Pitts (Pittsie, of whom was simply too tall for his own good - terrible at sport, though he surely tried his best); Richard Cameron (the ginger one, with a permanent foot rammed so far up his ass, it shall simply never be recovered); Steven Meeks (a blonde - with a tinge of red, as he had argued against last year - headed boy, riddled with curls - as was I - and the brains of something magnificent), and Charles Dalton (a typically chaotic and utterly unpredictable mess, with substantial grades, and a great yearn for women - not their love, you understand, but merely their attention - and a fascinating dedication to the saxophone).

I had come to know them all - at a distance, though some a little more than others, as was Knox, and was Meeks - and thus found myself trailing comfortably behind the tall boy, his jacket swaying among the ruffle of his movement.

The stairwell was something utterly cramped - a nauseating kind of warmth emitted from such, and I scowled bitterly through my ascent - our footsteps drowned among the chaos of rambling conversations, clatters of luggage - curses; groans; yells; cheers; animosity. Ah, the fresh stench of testosterone, and cologne. Expensive cologne - always expensive, always lathered.

The crowd seemed mostly polite, peering me no mind and abiding about their business as though they held not a care in the world for the female presence - for such, I was grateful. I were far too exhausted to handle gawking boys - by the hundreds, mind you - with any ounce of grace.

Knox held a relaxed pace, he leaned into it, as though persistently O.K, and unbothered by the great deal of shit in the word. I almost envied his carelessness, though found myself unable to ponder my digression any which further, for he paused, and then he bounded through the familiarity of the open doorway. A rush of excitement eloped within him, it seemed, as he threw himself to tackle - rather boyishly, rather fondly - a stumbling Charlie Dalton.

The pair fell to the ground, a great thud among the ruckus, and erupted with a childish kind of laughter. I brushed my shoulder upon the doorframe, watching the scene unfold, as they lay - a little breathless, with their laughs drawn to silent breathing - and they smiled toothy, giddy, smiles. A sort of grin embraced my expression, and the moment played on.

“Jesus, Knoxious.” Charlie breathed, the subtlety of a laugh to follow, “I’ve not seen you move like that since-” He paused, another laugh ripping from his throat, “Shit, not since little Ginny tried it with you, back in eighth grade!”

Knox let out a little snicker, “Don’t remind me.” He said, spoken with a slight shudder. The tickle of a laugh slipped from my lips, and the fluttered noise seemed to catch the attention of the red-faced boys. “Oh, yeah,” Knox mumbled, scrambling to his feet. Or, rather, attempting to - as the brunette beside him tugged to the collar of his coat, dragging him back to the ground with a great huff, and a startled yelp.

Charlie stood, instead, and he smirked that classic Dalton smirk. One corner of his mouth found a higher rest that the other, perched comfortably with a flirted sense of amusement. “Miss Darling.” He said, and he offered a hand, “Welcome back.” I took his hand, a roll of my eyes, and shook it thoroughly.

“Yeah, yeah, Dalton.” I scoffed, an eyebrow raised. “Quit the formalities, okay?” His smile feathered futherly full, genuine, and it seemed that the idea of loneliness grew that little bit more unbearable. For the guys - all of them, perhaps even the red-headed bastard - they could be such graciously wonderful company. And although I knew it were dangerous, and that I simply should not have wished it; I found myself often dreaming of a life - a different one, somewhere else, where things had changed, yet certain company was much the same - in which I had befriended them all - and, oh, how colourful life did seem!

I longed, regularly, for their friendship - for the absence of my loneliness. But, as it should portray, life had other plans, and I had not but an ounce of energy to revoke against it.

The warmth of Charlie’s palm, curled around my own, in a growing spirit of lightly peppered sweat and heated touch, found me retracting my grip, and glancing, wordlessly, to the boy upon the floor. He was sat up, no longer reclined, with his knees bent, and his arms to drape upon them. He smiled, and I reciprocated the gesture softly - softly, for it were all I could manage to plaster aloft my expression.

“Hey, Charlie, I brought you some-” Meeks. I grinned, something wide, something wonderful, and I spun upon my heel. His eyes, they were bright, fixed largely behind the glint of his round glasses, a smile to his lips, and his hair was wild - curly as I, and graciously familiar. “Jane?” He said, a certain fondness about his tone. “When’d you get here?” He ushered, drawing me in for a tight, warming, embrace. Perhaps, throughout the list of their group, I found myself closest to Meeks. For he was witty, he was intelligent, and more of a brotherly figure than any twin I had ever known. I obliged comfortably, curled within his arms, as he withdrew, and he rested his grip upon the hunch of my shoulders. He smiled, “How was your summer?” And I simply knew for which I would have to lie - again.

“It was fine.” I smiled. Accompanied with many-a-blue-day, and many nights of darkening contemplation. Riddled by the tangle of silence, with nothingness; raised voices, and bruising discipline. I had done nothing wrong. I had done nothing wrong. “It was great.” I said.

He smiled kindly, that reassuring sense of Meeks I had needed during the bitter hue of summer’s company. “Good.” He said, releasing myself gently, and outstretching his grip. He turned to face Charlie, gentle in his smile, and spoke again: “I got you some more smokes, Dalton.” He grinned, “So you’ll stop moaning that we’re bummin’ ‘em.”

The boy in question scoffed, “You do.” He said, a smirk nonetheless, as he shovelled the packet into his inner-blazer pocket. “I’d say you owe me a couple more, Meeksy.”

“Take what you’re given.” He smirked, “Or you’ll get nothin’ at all.”

He merely smiled, an eyebrow raised, and he spoke lightly, a bounce to his words. “You have a good vacation, Stevo?” He said, “You’re pale as ever.”

“Always the joker.” Meeks offered, a mere mutter beneath his breath, “My summer was standard.” He shrugged lightly, “Studying, mostly. A little extra-reading, I suppose.”

“Riveting.” Knox scoffed, a dizzy arrival to his feet.

Charlie smirked, and he shook his head - wobbling slightly upon the draped arm of Knox’s weight. “So you’ll be smarter than last year?” He said, teasingly in his ways. Meeks’ response came witty, and it came fondly, though I paid it little mind, obtaining a subtle moment to study the features of the entangled pair before me.

Knox was far taller than Charlie, it should seem, with his arm slung around the brunette’s shoulders, and his features somewhat softer. His eyes, though similarly brown and kind, were lighter - a brightened tinge, infused with sensitivity. Charlie held mischief, and he held youth, among the deep swirl of his stare; his smirk was crude and it were sharp, uneven, and unfortunately attractive. Charlie was unfortunately attractive.

And, as I had hardly dared to notice, his smirk fluttered a widened stance, gaze shifting to meet that of mine own curious observation. An eyebrow raised, and he shot a wink to my stoic self - classically flirty, and ever the romantic - before grinning toothily, and rejoining the loose conversion between the other two boys.

“The other three here, yet?” Charlie asked, nodding serupticially to the open wind of the door.

Meeks shrugged something light, beginning to make his way - a saunter in his stride - to the opposing doorway, positioned directly before Dalton’s own. Charlie trailed suit, and I found myself obliging to the gentle push of Knox’s tender touch, as he guided my shoulders to cross the hallway, and he brushed his palms along the doorframe, gating us all in with a kind of casual amusement. I were pressed - rather tightly, mind you - between the heat of Charlie’s back, as he leaned upon the wooden frame, and Knox’s arm, held just above my head, as we peered on through.

“Rumour has it,” Charlie grinned, pointing with mock accusement, to Neil - his sharp features conveyed by a gentle, tender smile. “You did summer school.” The boy glanced up, straightening his position.

“Yep.” He breathed, “Chemistry.” And I felt undoubtedly sorry for him. “My Father thought I should get ahead.” There were a certain glaze - one I happened to notice, though not entirely potent - upon the mention of his Father, and I found mine own stare reciprocating a mixture of something kind, and something understanding. It should seem we had plenty in common - between our parents, and our inability to stand up against their trying discipline. Though perhaps Neil were not… Perhaps he were not physically harmed, as were I, it would do damage just the same.

His smile was toothy, brotherly, as he approached. He shook the outstretched hand of Dalton’s own, and said: “How was your summer, Slick?” With a mischievous kind of glint.

“Keen.” Came the reply, drowned in all things sinfully scandalous and unspoken.

The breath of a laugh slipped from Neil’s lips, a gentle shake of the head, and he retreated to his luggage, tossed carelessly upon his bed. Charlie followed, and I found myself trailing - helplessly - along.

“Meeks,” Charlie called, over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, and a diligent grin, pointing to the boy with spoken commandment, “Door. Closed.” I smiled - beside myself, and frustratingly so - and Meeks spoke his reply.

“Yes, Sir.” He said, and the dark oak swung to a tight close.

Dalton took his seat upon the unmade, bare, mattress that was Neil’s single accommodation; Knox to rest backwards within the spare desk chair, withdrawn slightly from the weak table, and to the other side of the room, and Meeks assumed his position within the seat opposite Knox, facing outwardly at Neil’s desk. I stood, quietly, and I watched the room for the moment that passed, as everyone took their place.

The back of someone unfamiliar greeted me, his hair a dirty blonde. He hunched over his luggage, fiddling with this, and with that, and remained submerged within his own silence, undisturbed - or so it seemed - by the rather rowdy crowd of newcomers.

“Gentlemen,” Neil mocked, leaning gradually upon the dark radiator. “What are the four pillars?”

“Travesty. Horror. Decadence. Excrement.” They sang, a whispered quire of mocking upon the monstrosity Hell-ton dared to deem success. I grinned, despite myself, and took a seat upon the edge of the bed, slightly pushing the sharp edge of the leather-bound case.

Charlie spoke, a cigarette hung from between his lips, “‘kay,” He muttered, withdrawing the stick from between his muffled speech, and producing a lighter, “Study group.” He said. “Meeks aced Latin,” No surprise there, I thought, “Jane’s just… Jane.” He grinned, to which I rolled my eyes. “She’ll have aced everything.” He swung his legs to rest upon my lap, unreasonably comfortable, and he lay - utterly sprawled out - upon the bed. His touch was warm, it was cozy, and thus I did not protest. “I didn’t quite flunk English,” He continued, “So, if you want, we got our study group.”

He lit the cigarette, as a hum of agreement rang through the room. I remained true to my silence, for I knew I would simply not be allowed within such close proximity - neither to study, nor merely to talk. Pathetic, my conscience reminded, the misogyny were fucking pathetic.

“Alright,” Neil shrugged, “You comin’, Jane?” He asked. I glanced up, and upon meeting such a gentle expression, I smiled.

I spoke softly - I hated the way it sounded, but I said it nonetheless. “I can’t.” I sighed. “I got new rules, now, boys.”

Charlie scoffed, and Neil’s gaze seemed to soften - sympathetic, understanding. “Forget the rules.” Charlie said, handing his cigarette to myself, as I took it between my middle and first. “You’re coming.”

Through a breath of smoke, I scoffed, and I said: “I’ll be kicked out, Dalton.”

He smirked that uneven smirk, with a shrug to accompany, “For studying? C’mon, Darl’.” He challenged, “That’s a lame excuse.”

“I can’t.” I sighed, inhaling another deep breath of such chemical smoke, holding it within the depth of my throat - as the Dalton boy had taught me, back in eighth grade - and I exhaled tiresomely. I truly wished it could be simpler. I handed back the cigarette, and I focused myself upon Perry, as he smiled - something reassuring, and gentle.

“Well, Cameron asked, too.” Neil said, and a chorus of mumbled protests rang out - I found myself groaning something light, for the red-headed bastard were nothing but a stuck up prissy, and I liked nothing about him. “Anyone mind including him?”

I could practically hear the silent ‘Yes’ of the boys’ disagreement, as they sighed once more, and they remained true to the quiet. “What’s his specialty, bootlicking?” Charlie scoffed, lighting his cigarette once more.

“C’mon,” Neil tried. Always the kinder soul. “He’s your roommate.”

Charlie let out a breathy laugh, “That’s not my fault.” he said. And I did feel a little sorry for him, at times, for - indeed - Richard Cameron was his roommate, and the pair got on like butter in a sock.

In other words; they didn’t.

I grinned, riddled with slight amusement, for I knew Charlie held a special kind of talent for pissing Cameron off. He - regularly, you understand - played his saxophone, at all hours of the night. Only loud enough to disturb Richard, of course, but it was persistently frustrating for the ginger lad, nonetheless. Charlie would often steal his clothing, amidst his showers, and force the poor boy to return to his room in nothing but a towel - all kinds of impractical things, that I, for one, found utterly hilarious, and the school board did not agree with.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Meeks spoke, “My name is Steven Meeks.”

Glancing toward the newcomer, I smiled warmly, for he looked to be riddled with nerves, and shaken with anxiety. So fragile, did he seem.

“Oh, this is Todd Anderson.” Neil introduced, spinning him around with a soft touch. He turned to face Meeks, a light blush dusting his cheeks, and he reached out - as though nervous, I had noticed - to shake his hand.

Meeks shook it something small, “Nice to meet you.” He smiled, and let go of their grip.

“Nice to meet you.” Todd whispered, a tone so quiet, I almost missed it. He seemed polite, kind, and softly spoken. His lips quivered with an affable smile, docile and modest, and he shared a curt glance with I, a nervous nod to be sent.

I spoke quietly, though not quite as quiet as he, and I smiled, “I’m Jane.” I said, “Jane Darling.”

“Hello.” He mumbled, that faint dust of pinkish hue to elope his complexion once more.

“Charlie Dalton.” Charlie said, far louder than perhaps necessary (though I supposed it were just him, and that was that) with an azure of confidence radiating between his smirk. The boy, - Todd - he glanced with a curtly reigned frown, turning away with not but a word. The breath of a laugh slipped from my lips - for Charlie, his chaotic, messy, self, could seem so intimidating, so utterly confident, upon first glance - and I smiled with great amusement. His foot nudged my stomach lightly, and, upon glancing to his expression, I noticed a mockery of annoyance, ruined by his grin.

Another amused giggle fell from me, and I rolled my eyes - a natural reaction, you see - as I turned to meet the introduction of Knox. He leaned up, an awkward kind of crouch, over the back of the wooden chair, and shook Todd’s hand. “I’m Knox Overstreet.” He smiled, with a subtle nod to follow.

Overstreet fell back to rest within his chair, and Neil spoke with earnestness, although lightly uninterested upon the topic. “Todd’s brother was Jeffery Anderson.” He said, taking ahold of the cigarette Charlie had offered.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Charlie said, as though the name dared to ring a bell. I knew not for this Jeffery, nor his brother, as he stood before us, scoping his luggage once again. “Valedictorian.” Charlie continued. “National merit scholar.” Oh, I thought, oh, it was that Anderson.

Todd seemed to freeze slightly, his jaw drawn to a momentary clench, and I understood that such recognition were not of something unfamiliar to him. Meeks, his eyebrows raised, spoke with light teasing, “Ooh. Well,” he said, “Welcome to Hell-ton.”

A silent, shy, laugh reciprocated the boy’s reply, as Charlie - once more - made the pass of another loud statement. “It’s every bit as tough as they say,” he said, a tone of nonchalance to occupy. “Unless you’re Jane. She’s…” He trailed, a ribbing grin, “Well, like I said; she’s just Jane. A genius, like Meeks.”

I scoffed, swatting the boney shin of his leg, as he smirked something proud, and shot me a wink. “He excels in flattery, Todd,” I said, “Don’t mind him.”

Meeks snickered, “Yeah,” he agreed, “That’s why I help him with Latin.”

“And English,” I added, a mere mutter beneath my breath.

“And Trig,” Charlie coughed, another light kick to my stomach, with that same teasing glint to those deep, chocolate, eyes. He had taken back the cigarette, inhaling a rather deep toke upon the stick, before offering it to myself. I took it, gulping in the toxins with a sense of normality, as I leaned myself back upon the edge of the luggage.

A subtly sounded knock erupted from the opposing side of the wooden door, and I - reasonably so - found myself lightly panicking for the stick of illegal measures, wrapped within my fingers. I glanced to Charlie, a furrow upon my brows, and he took hold of the cigarette, maneuvering himself to extinguish the final few tokes of the lit thing. Neil, Charlie, and I, made an attempt to waft the smoke away; our hands batting the air somewhat foolishly. It would still smell, I thought, but I waved my hands anyway.

“It’s open,” Neil called, as Charlie rose to his feet, the corpse of the hidden cigarette perched beneath his shiny shoe.

The door opened, and an older man strode - masked by a great sense of authority - within the complex. “Father,” Neil all but spluttered, risen to a wobbly stand, “I thought you’d gone.” His gaze, it faltered, and a shine of something fearful riddled among his widened eyes. Mr Perry seemed stern, the kind of man whom found small talk to be his only communication, unless condescending, or belittling, and I didn’t quite like that.

“Mr Perry - Sir.” the boys each greeted, rising to a respectful stand, among the thickening tension within the air. I remained perched upon the bed, merely smiling something small.

The man nodded politely, tight lipped, with a grin of something powerful, and I found myself disliking the blankness behind his gaze, behind his eyes. “Keep your seats, fella’s,” He said, “keep your seats.” And so they did - Meeks, Knox, and Charlie, returning to their assigned seats, each somewhat displeased by the presence of the elder man. He glanced to myself, smile tightening distastefully, as mine only seemed to brighten - often, I enjoyed the act of making men squirm. “Miss Darling,” He said, a light bite to his tone, “I hope you are well.”

“Very well, thank you, Mr Perry.” I replied, somewhat nonchalantly, somewhat bemusedly.

“Good.” He said, gaze to flutter upon my frame - scrutinizing, with a sense of uncomfortability. My smile, it fell to a smirk, for I found great fondness among his displeasure. “Neil,” He continued, attention returning once more to his son, of whom stood, nervously, with a furrow in his brows. “I’ve just spoken to Mr Nolan.” He said, “I think that you’re taking too many extracurricular activities this semester, and I’ve decided that you should drop the school annual.”

I shifted my gaze, prominent with a frown, to meet the angered stare of Charlie, who merely sighed, a shake to his head. ‘Is he serious?’ I mouthed, somewhat silent among my breathing. The boy shrugged, nodding slightly in response. Unfortunately, his glare seemed to utter, and I found my scowl deepening. “But I’m the assistant editor, this year.” Neil attempted to reason, a glaze of solemn hurt, so potent, upon his features.

Mr Perry, a glance of perfect nonchalance, said: “Well, I’m sorry, Neil.” With not but a flicker of apathy. No, I thought, you’re not.

Neil tried again, “But - Father - I can’t! It wouldn’t be fair-”

“Fella’s,” Mr Perry interjected, a great wash of impatience to succumb to his expression, “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

There were a sudden gloom that hung about the air, thicker than the smoke that fell from our throats, as we smoked our cigarettes, and basked in the little freedom we could. Neil glanced, a sheepish kind of look, from his left, to his right - to nothing in particular, I could only assume - and the gentle thud of his Father’s footsteps were to be the only disrupance. I dared to spare another sharp exchange with Charlie, his jaw set, teeth clenched. He watched, deep orbs conflicted with a burning - obvious - distaste, as Mr Perry paused at the doorway, and Neil stuttered in his walk.

The boy left, and the smile his Father gave - perhaps something of reassurance, though I paid it no mind - were of nothing partially kind; tight, and thin-lipped. Charlie did not smile back, he glared, though something slightly softer, and awaited the retreat of Mr Perry’s moving figure.

A breath of silence dared to pass, and I wondered - perhaps selfishly, perhaps ignorantly - if this were how it felt to be a witness, and not a receiver. For I had never known the way it felt, to listen in upon hushed whispers of angered disputes, and the stumbled reply of someone ferociously terrified. It were usually I, whom stuttered my response, and cried silent tears, as the strike of powerful palms caressed the worn complexion of my cheek. Often, it stung. Though each time, less than the rest.

I found myself tracing the flush of my cheek - absentmindedly, you understand - with a gaze fallen to the floor. For although I were certainly glad that the bruises had healed, and the scabs didn’t leave scars, my conscience often recalled such moments, of inner battles, and of physical aches, upon the most wretched of times.

The summer was dreadful - as it had always seemed to be - and I held no doubt that the next break - Winter, I supposed - would be much the same. I dreaded it all, just as well. For who was I to defy the mighty hand of a man who’d taught me nothing but pain? I knew not how to love, but to hate - Oh, I could hate with great excellence.

“That guy’s a real jerk-off.” Charlie sighed, a mumble beneath his breath.

I smiled something small, saddened, “Yeah,” I said, “I wouldn’t invite him to tea, that’s for sure.”

He snorted, a toothy grin to follow, “Give it to him cold.” he suggested, leaning back among the pillows once more, his legs dangling - an awkward angle, surely - up off the side of the mattress. “Or leave some mushed up cookies at the bottom.” He had a nice smile, I cared to notice; bright, straight, teeth, with a perfectly even set - he looked, silly as it may seem, rather pretty, when he smiled. A true smile, however, not a smirk. His smirk were mischievous - older - and his smile withheld the youth he often projected.

“Too hot, maybe - burn his tongue.” I shrugged. “Though I’m doubtful he’d ever return my invite.”

“No,” Charlie sighed, “No, he wouldn’t.”

“It’s a shame, really,” I said, turning back to gaze upon the floor, a breath of faux despair dissolving upon my tongue, and I smiled. “I make a wonderful tea.”

“More of a liquor kinda guy, really.” He muttered, a shrug of faint amusement. “Or a Hot Chocolate.” He added, a moment of nothingness to follow, “Wouldn’t be Christmas without one, y’know?”

My grin merely heightened, for I knew the feeling all too well, and I nodded. “Of course.” I said, returning my gaze to lock with his bemused glint. “As long as you don’t make them with milk.”

He frowned, scoffed, and spoke with a tone of great offence. “How else am I supposed to make it?”

“With water!” I scoffed. Buffoon, I thought, and a disgusting one at that. To make his hot chocolate with milk - the audacity of the boy. “Hot water.” I then said, glancing to his scrunched expression - assuming that I, myself, withheld disgust much the same. “How’d you even heat up the milk?” I asked, another scrunch of distaste to follow.

“Jesus fuck,” He breathed, “The same way you heat up water?” He said, an incredulous kind of tone to pepper his words. His eyes widened, a placid glaze of disbelief to flutter his features, and I merely shook my head. Oh, he seemed so pretty - and, now, all was ruined.

“Disgraceful.” I muttered.

“Me?” He mocked, “You’re the weirdo that likes hot-water-chocolate!”

“You make it sound like a bad thing!” I defended.

“It is a bad thing! A damn shame, too.” He scoffed, a roll of his eyes, “I was just beginning to like you.” His smirk came sly and it came teasing, and I found myself unable to withhold my own, the slip of a gentle giggle to fall along with it.

“Only just?” I jeered, a fond kind of smile, “Well, shit, I better step up my game.”

Charlie shot me a wink - again - and swung to his feet, standing with a sudden wobble, as he said: “I’d say the same for myself, but my game is simply…” He paused, he grinned, “Perfect.” He said. I scoffed, rolling my eyes; for yes, he was a flirt - potentially the biggest flirt I had ever come to know, at that - but there was nothing perfect about him. Well, nothing but that smile, of course.

“Yeah, alright, Dalton.” I said, the ascent to my feet something clumsy - as always, it should so seem - and I stumbled a few steps, bashing my shoulder upon the chest of the boy, himself. He let out a breathy grunt, clasping me - far gentler than I supposed I had expected - at my elbow, for I jerked myself away, and I found my footing solely. A natural reaction, I thought to reason, and I pretended not to notice the brief flash of concern, as it washed across his face. “We should check on Neil.” I mumbled, tone far quieter than I should have liked - addressing the silence of the other three boys.

Todd glanced, - nervously, I noticed - with a quick kind of look, though returned to his luggage - a bag with nothing left to unpack - as though he were too busy to follow. Meeks merely nodded, Knox rising quietly from his position, and we wandered through the open doorway.

Charlie, the first to step out, leaned upon the cream wall, smug with his uneven, classic, smirk. I found myself positioned ever-slightly behind him, shoulder rested against the back of his arm, and Knox stood, hands in his pockets, to the right of I. Neil stared forward, jaw set, though soft - as he always seemed to be - and he dropped back against the wall, his head bouncing lightly upon such contact.

I frowned, silent within my thoughts, for although I wished to speak upon my concerns, I knew such would simply do nothing to help. “Why doesn’t he let you do what you want?” Charlie asked, brazen as ever.

Helpful, Dalton, I scoffed, internally, real helpful.

Neil turned to face us, an eyebrow raised, and his silence surely telling. “Yeah, Neil,” Knox added, a light tone of confidence to ooze between his words, “tell him off.”

My eyes rolled gravely, the comment slipping from upon my tongue before I caught the chance to reel it in. “God,” I sighed, “That’s a terrible idea.” I muttered, a shake to my head, “Don’t listen to them, Neil.”

Knox frowned, a glance of conflict to contort his handsome features, and he said: “Why? It couldn’t get any worse.” Oh, you fool, I thought - it could get so much worse. Of course it could.

“You don’t know that.” I said, a little too sharp for my liking. I softened my tone, “It’s best to just take it - take it ‘til you’re free.” I glanced once to Neil, his eyes fluttered shut, and I added - quietly, with a gentle stare. “Not long, now.”

There were a great beat of silence, a shake to his head, and the brunette returned his attention to the cream paint of the opposing wall, tone tender, tired. “Ten years is a lifetime.” He all but whispered, the slip of a crack to differentiate his tone. Something within my chest ached - a gentle squeeze, and my expression fell to a sympathetic furrow.

“No, Neil,” I said, a smile of something reassuring flashed his way, “you’ve the rest of your life to enjoy, to feel free. Ten years? Ten years is nothing.”

“It’s forever.” He mumbled, “I’ll be trapped forever.”

Knox shrugged smally, “It’s your life, Neil. Your future. You do with it what you want, that’s the way it goes.”

A mocking, bitterly tasted, laugh fell from the boy’s tongue, his eyebrows raised; fixture of disbelief. “Oh, that’s rich!” He scoffed, and my chest ached once more, throbbing slightly, for the weight of things all too familiar. I had witnessed this scene many-a-time before - only I were Neil, and Neil were I. “Like you guy’s defy your parents?” He continued, a hint of frustration to lick upon his tone, “Mr Future Lawyer, and Mr Future Banker.”

Charlie, another smug smirk slapped across his expression, said, with the breath of a laugh; “Okay, so I don’t like it any more than you do.”

Neil sighed, falling back to rest his head against the wall. “Well- Just don’t tell me how to talk to my Father.” He said, a trailed gaze to meet us all, “You guys are the same way.” And surely right he was. To defy was - to put it rather dramatically, though not entirely impossible - to die.

Knox let out a breathy, “Alright, alright, Jesus.” and Neil retracted his gaze, a glum grin to be shot my way. “So what are you gonna do, then?” He muttered, soft eyes laced with a thinly dispersed concern.

He fluttered his eyes shut, once more, and sighed. “What I have to do,” he mumbled, “Drop the annual.” I frowned a little, unable to miss the thick layer of sadness, as it wove between his features.

“Well,” Charlie began, “I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it.”

I let out a breath, “Yeah,” I said, “It’s just a bunch of jerks trying to impress Nolan.”

His laugh rang fake, and it fell from his lips with great force - I practically winced. “I don’t care.” He lied. “I don’t give a damn about any of it.” But oh, of all the blindest men - anyone could read his mistruth.

There was a beat of silence, and I found myself reaching out, and placing a softly positioned hand upon the sleeve of his blazer, a curt squeeze of support - of companionship. “Well, uh,” Meeks stuttered, his breath a little warm upon the back of my neck. I flinched, be it only slight, from the sudden sensation, and bumped - once more, curse my soul - unto the frame of the Dalton boy himself. He merely raised an eyebrow, hand instinctively brushing upon my upper back, a stroke of miraculous comfort. I smiled, sheepishly, might I admit, and attempted to ignore the circular trail of his fingers upon the blazer, warped between my shoulder blades. “Latin?” Meeks offered, “Eight o’clock, tomorrow?”

A round of agreement followed around - Neil expressing the loudest, as he passed between Knox and I, and made his way through the doorway of his room.

“Todd,” The boy glanced up, fiddling with a small clock, and Meeks smiled, “You’re welcome to join us.” He offered, as Knox chimed in.

“Yeah,” He said, “Come along, Pal.”

Todd nodded, another shy movement, and he muttered a quiet: “Thanks.” And nothing more.

A breath left my lips, as the four remaining students - Meeks, Knox, Charlie, and I - turned away from the slowly closing door. I sighed, for I dreaded the condition to which Peter had left behind, upon his trail of Knightly destruction, and I wondered just what he had ruined, in the longer-than-necessary time he took, upon delivering mine own luggage to my dorm. “I’m gonna head back to my room.” I muttered, “Unpack, and all that.”

I dared to notice the hand, rested - still - between my shoulder blades, as Charlie spoke, softer than he had all day. “Sure.” He mumbled, “Know how to get there from here?” I merely nodded, for I did; it were up the stairs, the first right upon landing, and five doors to the left.

“See you in class, Jane,” Meeks smiled, a small wave to follow. I reciprocated, breathed a laugh.

“Yeah, and don’t forget - you’re coming to that study group.” Charlie grinned, a subtle wink, as he patted my back - thrice, upon counting - and I began to wander the trek within the distilled hallway. Their echoing footsteps, retreating to their own rooms, I could merely assume, drowned to something of a silent aubade, as I ascended the stairs, my shoes tapping gently upon the polished wood.

Perhaps, I thought, as I entered my hallway, and I strode to the oak of my door, this year could be better. Maybe it would be good, and not just fine. Shrug-worthy, would be a legible descriptive of past years - nothing but bland yearning, a great longing for freedom. Something tingled, deep within my bones, and I wondered if perhaps this year - maybe, just maybe - I would find it. The freedom, that is.

It sounded so wonderful, looked so serene. I discovered myself longing for it, all over again. And, as I swung open the wooden panel, a large kind of smirk tattled upon my teeth, I decided that I would do everything I could to achieve it. I swerved, among the piles of strewn clothing, of broken picture frames, and of smashed bottles - of perfume, might I add, despite their forbiddency - and I sat upon the naked, unmade bed, smiling. I cared not for the mess, the disgusting and blatant, disrespect, in which my brother had inflicted upon the scene - for I, Jane Elizabeth Darling, grew warm; warm with a sense of fulfilling passion.

This year would be different, I thought to myself; this year would be free. No longer was I Miss Darling, nor Peter - with a more feminine touch - Neither a future trophy wife, or a distraction amongst men - No. No, that year - beginning then, for if not then, when? - I was Jane. A bright, witty, independent, girl, with not but a man to influence her, and rag her around.

“I am Jane.” I said, and I liked the way it tasted.

#charlie dalton #charlie dalton fanfic #dead poets society #Neil Perry #nuwanda #nuwanda fanfic #todd anderson #knox overstreet #gerard pitts #pittsie #meeks #steven meeks #richard cameron #fanfiction #john keating #poetry

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thetimelordbatgirl · 3 years

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Miscellaneous OCs

Name: Ginevra ‘Ginny’ Watson. Title: Bumblebee: No Rest For The Wicked. Fandom: Transformers. Summary: TBA. Faceclaim: Sofia Wylie.

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Name: Princess Helen of Camelot. Title: The Prophecy of Camelot. Fandom: The School For Good and Evil. Summary: TBA. Voiceclaim: TBA.

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Name: Luna/Willow. Title: Seldom All They Seem. Fandom: Maleficent. Summary: TBA. Faceclaim: Millie Bobby Brown.

Name: Samantha ‘Sam’ Tennyson. Title: Young Plumbers. Fandom: Ben 10 (Classic Continuity). Summary: TBA. Voiceclaim: TBA.

Name: Rook Shing. Title: Young Plumbers. Fandom: Ben 10 (Classic Continuity). Summary: TBA. Voiceclaim: TBA.

Name: Skye Thordottir/Sky Foster. Title: Princess Protection Program: Beyond Earth. Fandom: Princess Protection Program. Summary: TBA. Faceclaim: Millie Bobby Brown.

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Name: Cecelia ‘Cece’ Ross. Title: Welcome To The Owl House. Fandom: The Owl House. Summary: TBA. Voiceclaim: TBA.

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*Alix- Eventual Guardian of Freedom- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Puck- Eventual Guardian of Mischief- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Isleen- Eventual Guardian of Illusions- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Noelle- Eventual Guardian of Laughter- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Hyacinth/Hya- Eventual Guardian of Will- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Lavernia/Nia- Eventual Guardian of Wisdom- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Jemma Bennett- Child of Jamie- Voiceclaim: TBA.

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*Aurora- Witch of The Sun- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Lucine/Luci- Witch of The Moon- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Beryl- Witch of The Jewels- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Fauna- Witch of Animals- Voiceclaim: TBA. *Cinderella/Ella- Witch of Fire- Voiceclaim: TBA.

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Star Wars: The Force Lives On: Summary of Story: TBA. Fandom: Star Wars.

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*Aine- Child of Skylar and Kai. *Ruth- Only child of Lloyd. *Frtiz- Robot child of Zane and P.I.X.A.L. *Orion- Eldest child of Cole. *Terra- Youngest child of Cole. *Clara- Eldest child of Jay and Nya. *Miles- Twin child of Jay and Nya. *Tobias- Twin child of Jay and Nya.

Danny Phantom: Next Generation: Summary of Series: TBA. Fandom: Danny Phantom.

*Freddie Fenton- Eldest child of Danny and Sam. *Regan Fenton- Middle child of Danny and Sam. *Spike Fenton- Youngest child of Danny and Sam. *Harley Foley- Eldest child of Tucker and Valerie. *Roxy Foley- Youngest child of Tucker and Valerie. *Harper Fenton- Only child of Jazz. *Poe Fenton- Only child of Dani. *Martin Baxter- Eldest child of Dash and Paulina. *Victoria Baxter- Youngest child of Dash and Paulina. *Hunter- Only child of Star and Kwan. *Joey- Only child of Mikey. *Aaron- Only child of Tiffany and Nathan. *Dylan Shaw- Friend of Freddie. *Wyatt Roberts- Friend of Freddie. *Ace Hyde- Friend of Freddie.

Zombies: Next Generation: Summary of Story: TBA. Fandom: Disney Zombies.

*Zadie Necrodopolis- Twin child of Zed and Addison. *Zayne Necrodopolis- Twin child of Zed and Addison. *Zayla Necrodopolis- Youngest child of Zed and Addison. *Winona Zambi-Lykensen- Only child of Eliza and Willa. *Whitney Lykensen- Only child of Wyatt. *Wayne Barkawtiz- Only child of Wynter. *Bucky Buchanen. Jr- Eldest child of Bucky. *Briella Buchanen- Youngest child of Bucky. *Braxton- Twin child of Bree and Bonzo. *Bryce- Twin child of Bree and Bonzo. *Kacey- Only child of Lacey. *Macey- Only child of Stacey. *Dacey- Only child of Jacey. *Gracey- Only child of Tracey. *Doris Dumpson- Villain.

Winx Club: Next Generation: Summary of Series: The Magic Dimension has long since remained to be safe ever since the Winx Club moved on with their lifes, a few becoming queens, a few becoming rich and a few remaining happy enough with their families. It is now a new year for schools like Alfea, Red Fountain, Cloud Tower and even one of the known Wizard schools, Boderra. Attending the schools are none other then the Winx's children, and many of their allies children too. But so are the Trix Children. Just as the new school year looks ready to be another typical one, the new generation finds themselves suffering under legacies, and most of all, the wrath of the new Trix. The Winx Children will have to reform their parents teams, gain allies and stop the Trix Children once and for all, before Magix turns into something its not.... Quotev Link Fandom: Winx Club.

*Aideen Daphne- Eldest child of Bloom and Sky- Fairy of Fireworks. *Ember Vanessa- Child of Bloom and Sky- Fairy of The Dragon Flame. *Kadence Martin- Eldest child of Musa and Riven- Fairy of Music. *Luciana Luna- Twin child of Stella and Brandon- Fairy of The Moon. *Azalea Miele- Child of Flora and Helia- Fairy of Art. *Maxima Musa- Child of Tecna and Timmy- Fairy of Technology. *Halzea Marion- Child of Daphne and Thoren- Fairy of Air. *Eva Morgana- Child of Roxy and Nex- Fairy of Mythological Beasts. *Nimue- Only child of Selina- Fairy of Snakes. *Rosabeth- Eldest child of Krystal and Roy- Fairy of Nature. *Aurora Stormy- Child of Icy and Darko- Fairy of Snow.

*Kyra Bloom- Twin child of Stella and Brandon- Witch of The Sun. *Ursa Darcy- Eldest child of Ivy and Darko- Witch of Ice. *Tove Icy- Twin child of Stormy- Witch of Lightning. *Ophelia- Only child of Mirta and Lucy- Witch of The Burning Stars. *Lilith- Only child of Diaspro- Witch of Jewels.

*Castor Mike- Child of Bloom and Sky. *Skylar Elizabeth- Child of Bloom and Sky. *Blair Tecna- Child of Musa and Riven. *Neron Radius- Eldest child of Stella and Brandon. *Lazuli Saladin- Eldest child of Flora and Helia. *Linux Jako- Eldest child of Tecna and Timmy. *Ethan Nex- Child of Daphne and Thoren.

*Kai Teredor- Twin child of Aisha and Nabu- Wizard of Waves. *Musa Niobe- Twin child of Aisha and Nabu- Wizard of Healing. *Vulcan Oritel- Eldest child of Daphne and Thoren- Wizard of Fire. *Uri Sky- Child of Daphne and Thoren- Wizard of Legends. *Dillon Klaus- Eldest child of Roxy and Nex- Wizard of Animals. *Valhalla Riven- Only child of Darcy- Wizard of Illusions. *Raiden Crow- Twin child of Stormy- Wizard of Thunder.

*Hayden Thoren- Youngest child of Bloom and Sky. *Riya Flora- Twin child of Musa and Riven- Fairy of Sound. *Jaron Sky- Twin child of Musa and Riven- Wizard of Sound. *Thea Musa- Youngest child of Stella and Brandon- Fairy of Twilight. *Gale Rosabeth- Youngest child of Flora and Helia. *Zeno Nabu- Youngest child of Tecna and Timmy- Wizard of Electricity. *Corventina Ligeo- Youngest child of Aisha and Nabu. *Jorck Aidan- Youngest child of Daphne and Thoren. *Lyall Thoren- Child of Roxy and Nex. *Kefira Nebula- Youngest child of Roxy and Nex. *North Valtor- Youngest child of Icy and Darko.

Name: Clara Heafley. Title: Bodyguard: Prey. Fandom: Bodyguard. Summary: In a constantly changing world, the need for protection grows. A teenager is the least likely suspect for a protector- but that's exactly what Clara Heafley relies on to do her job. Her job? Being a professional bodyguard trained in surveillance, anti-ambush techniques, hostage survival and unarmed combat. When she's given the task to protect the Prime Minister's daughter, her protection skills face the ultimate test. Carla however, doesn't want protection. She just wants to have a normal life. Unaware that Clara is her bodyguard, she tries to hide from security while taking Clara along for the ride. But unknown to her and Clara, her father's rival is not willing to accept defeat. And with a common tactic being to target enemies loved ones, this anger slowly morphs him into a vulture, with the Prime Minister's daughter being his prey. Quotev Link Faceclaim/Voiceclaim: TBA.

#megan's ocs #megan's fanfiction #OCs masterpost #too many fandoms to list

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sealbf · 3 years

Note

p r and x!!

P - AUS I LOVE AUS i have one that's entirely a joke and its “tma but mike is a normal human man” because aside from flinging himself off of the tower in 46 the only “scary” things he does is like. act neurodivergent. ohhhh yeah he's soooooo scary when he wears too many layers for the weather isn't her herbet knox(/s). so i think itd be really funny if he was just a normal dude and people THOUGHT he was an evil skywizard and he was like yeah. sure. whatever. and still has access to all that Fairchild cash. he didn't even kill grant walker that was Stephen getting vast-y and trying to blame the hot guy he saw or whatever.

R - god. i really enjoy a good jane prentiss/jordan kennedy friendship ill be honest with you. jane voice jordan if you kill a bug in my apartment you're getting filled with worms. he has to use a cup to take whatever comes near him outside. they get brunch on wednesdays

X - obsessed OBSESSED with people falling in love even in terrible situations and sticking it out together and whgregretryhegrthgr starts biting

#asks #chatter #dreamingofsnails

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winsonsaw2003 · 3 years

Text

I’m Looking For Descendants Of John Anderson of Stroquhan (1795-1845)

John Anderson,Acting Resident Councillor of Penang,Malaysia from(1829-1830).He was born 1795 in Stroquhan,Scotland.Son of Robert Anderson.He married to Mary Alison Carnegy.He died 1845 in Euston,England. His issue:- i)Mary Alison Anderson(1819-1903)married Robert Stirling Graham. ii)James Carnegy Anderson. iii)John Reid Armstrong Anderson(1823-1866) married to Martha Tatham Hitchins.Their issue:- ai)Mary Martha Anderson(1857-1955)married Robert George Iremonger. aii)John Hitchins Anderson(1859-1896) married Kate Symes. aiii)Mabel Ida Anderson(1861-1957) married Talbot Monckton Milnes Griffiths.Their issue:- bi)Theodore Ralph Houghton Griffiths(1886-1964)married 1stly Elsie Christabel Burridge and 2ndly Vera Ellen Charlotte Justice.His issue:- ci)Robert Francis Houghton Griffiths(1914-1938)married Florence Mary Theodora Bosanquet. cii)John Stuart Griffiths(1916-1945). ciii)Mary Emilia Griffiths(1934-1986). bii)Vera Gwendolen Leila Griffiths(1889-1975) married John Limner. biii)Beryl Frances Griffiths(1890-1976)married Lewis Davies.Their issue:- ci)Eric Davies(?-1941). biv)Rupert Hildebrand Griffiths(1891-1981)married Evelina E Maddison.His issue:- ci) Charles M Griffiths. cii) George E T Griffiths. ciii)Celia Noreen Griffiths(1919-1994) married George M Blake. bv)Eric John Mortlock Griffiths(1892-1975)married Joan Heron.His issue:- ci)Joan Margery Griffiths(1921-1988). cii) Ethel Marion Griffiths. bvi)Charles Groyn Griffiths(1894-1895). bvii)Noel Stewart Griffiths(1896-1982)married Mary Blackburn.His issue:- ci)Patricia M Griffiths married Roland M Robitaillie.Their issue:- di)Carolyn V Robitaillie married Jean-Louis Ramon. dii)Elizabeth Robitaillie. diii)Sophie Amanda Robitaillie born in 1965.She married Fernagu. aiv)Albert Robert Anderson(1864-?) married 1stly,Caroline Alice Wollaston & 2ndly,Viola Ellen Haughton. His issue:- bi) Viola Helen Anderson iv)Jane Anderson(1824). v)Robert Patrick Anderson(1824-1898)married Henrietta Hildebrand.His issue:- ai)Robert Hildebrand Anderson(1854-1936)married Louisa Jane Laing.His issue:- bi)Robert Charles Hildebrand Anderson(1881-1884). aii)Hilda Mary Anderson(1857). vi)Margaret Lilias Anderson(1827-1909)married John Gray MacCowan Glen.Their issue:- bi)Robert Nelson John Glen(1871-1898). vii)William Henry Anderson(1829-1849). ix)Helena Adelaide Anderson(1830-1905) married Major General Horatio Nelson Davies.Their issue:- ai)Eveline Honoria Nelson Davies(1851-1934) married John Evelyn Barlas. Their issue:- bi)Evelyn Adelaide Isabella Barlas(1882-1885). bii) Ernest Douglas Montague Barlas(1885-1952) married Elena Georgina Matilda Kenyon-Slaney. His issue:- ci) Richard Douglas Barlas(1916-1982) married Ann Porter. His issue:- di) Robert A Barlas dii) Christopher Richard Barlas married 1stly,Elizabeth M Cruse & 2ndly,Rosemary A Russon. diii) Gavin James Barlas married Alison M Dibble. His issue:- ei) Joanna Claire Barlas cii) Robert Malcolm Barlas(1918-1940). ciii) John Alexander Barlas(1921-2003) married Pamela H Coutanche. His issue:- di) Honor J Barlas dii) Shena R Barlas married Timothy R Austin aii)Mary Adelaide Horatio Davies (1856-1946) married William Graydon Carter.Their issue:- bi) John Leslie Graydon Carter(1886-1932)married Edith Constance Browne.His issue:- ci)John Noel Graydon Carter(1917-1943) married Mary Grace Mefanwy Madoc. bii)Cyril Rodney Carter(1888-?)married Celia Ellen Alexia Cowie.His issue:- ci) Nicolette Anne Carter married Frederick Peter Perhat. Their issue:- di) Robin Frederick Perhat(1953-1971). dii) Eileen Jennifer Perhat diii) Celia Geraldine Perhat married Barrington Lloyd cii)Derek Guy Carter(?-1942). ciii) Peter Carter. biii)Capt.Eric Nelson Carter(1888-1958)married Kathleen Norah Liardet. biv)Adelaide Muriel Dorothea Carter married Capt.Roland Peto Johnstone Mitchell. bv)Mildred Lilian Carter(1891-1970). bv) Eyleen Graydon Carter(?-1949) married Reginald Magnus Trail.Their issue:- ci)Mildred Eyleen Trail(1924-1932). aiii)Thomas Arthur Harkness Davies(1857-1942). aiv)Helena Amy Davies(1859-1887). av)Helen Maud Davies(1860-1926) married Major Francis Ventris.Their issue - b) Charles Peyton Ventris(1887-1965) married 1stly,Madeline Harrison & 2ndly,Beatrice S M Nother. His issue:- ci) Anthony Peyton Ventris (Strachan) (1918-1942) cii) Ian T Peyton Ventris(1919-?) ciii) Jack Peyton Ventris(1922-1999) civ) Doris R Ventris married Raymond T Garnham. Their issue:- di) Roger C Garnham married Amanda French or Bale. dii) Barry R Garnham married Nancy E Andrews. His issue:- ei) David Barry Garnham cv) Daphne J Ventris married Reginald N Rowland. Their issue:- di) Ian M Rowland. dii) Peter A C Rowland bii)Edward Francis Vereker Ventris married Anna Dorothea Janasz.His issue:- ci)Michael George Francis Ventris(1922-1956) married Lois Elizabeth Knox-Niven.His issue:- di)Anthony Nicholas Ventris(1942-1984) married Irene N Frick. His issue:- ei) David Bjorn Ventris married Rebecca J Clarke. His issue:- fi) Matthew Nicholas Ventris. fii) Anna Grace Ventris. dii)Anna T Ventris married Nicholas G Clarke. Their issue:- ei) Michael William Clarke. eii) Saffron Jigme T Clarke biii)Mona Fairlie Ventris(1894-1977) married 1stly, Philip Macdonald and 2ndly,John E S Goss. Their issue:- ci) Carlyl Macdonald(?-1982) married 1stly,Walter Joseph McCartney & 2ndly,Robert Joseph Garden. biv) Alan Favell Ventris(1897-1915). bv)Agnes Madeline Ventris(?-1995) married Patrick Clavell Blount. Their issue:- ci)Francis G Clavell Blount married Wendy F Parsons. His issue:- di) Caroline Jane Clavell Blount dii) Alan Robert Clavell Blount cii) Christopher M Clavell Blount married Rosamund Wild. His issue:- di) Anthony Clavell Blount (1971). dii) Philippa Clavell Blount married Frederick Hiscox. Their issue:- ei) Kitty Lucy Hiscox. eii) Sienna Rose Hiscox. eiii) Harry Duke C Hiscox. diii) Annabel Clavell Blount married Joseph H A Wadsworth. Their issue:- ei)Caspar Alastair Wadsworth eii) Poppy Clavell Wadsworth avi)Horatio Nelson Kirkpatrick John Davies(1862-1886). avii)Henry Holme Davies(1863-1924) married Caroline Mary Taylor McLaren. His issue:- bi) Kenneth Graham Holme Davies(1892-1985) bii) Cecil Alvin Nelson Davies(1895-1946) married Jemima Eva Andrews. biii)Ian Henry Nelson Davies(1899-1983). biv) Charles Francis Kirkpatrick Davies(1904-?) bv) Erina Carolyn A Davies(1908-?) aviii)Albert Horace Maingay Davies(1863-1952)married Aruna Grant Still.Their issue:- bi)Nelson Edward Davies(1888-1970). bii)Helena Adelaide Davies(1890-1918). biii)Horatio Chalmers Davies(1892-1969). biv)Harold Allen Davies(1895-1973). bv)Thomas Albert Davies(1898-1990). bvi)Elva Birma Florence Davies(1900-1984). bvii)Albert Horace Maingay Davies(1905-1997). aix)Phayre Hilda Margaret Davies(1865-?). ax) Nelson Richard Ralph Davies (1869-1870). axi)Isabel Nina Florence Davies(1871-?) married Charles Kirkpatrick Anderson.Their issue:- bi)Robert Nelson Kirkpatrick Anderson(1897-1954) viii)Thomas Carnegy Anderson(1832-1869) married Isabella Catherine Herklots. ix)Albert Anderson(1835-?). x)Marion Agnes Anderson(1841-1842). xi)Graham Anderson(1843-?). Contact me at - [email protected]

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