seen from Israel
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Finland
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Africa
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Spain
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
♦ + ☆ for brooke :3
♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon
brooke + art is one of my favourite things, i also have this headcanon that she painted van gogh's starry night on christine's shoes. i have a post of art headcanons for brooke but that was years ago
anyway, she does watercolour paintings
☆ - happy headcanon
i have completely blanked on every other headcanon i have for her
she makes the best brownies
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one day we'll let ourselves be angry. we'll cry and scream and shout at each other. we'll stop being refined and good, let our shields slough away and reveal the dark and twisting underbelly of our insides. we'll throw things at the wall and we won't apologize. we'll let ourselves snap and break and splinter. and one day, we'll let our fingers crack off and the anger spill out and our hatred of being good fill up our bones and we'll feel free.
for the ficlet fest!!
- 9:30 (idk if you meant My Time or in the fic but either way. 9:30.)
- london pack house
biffy rabiffano
the time could be anything but i was happy to write this prompt. the only downside to getting parasol protectorate prompts is that i immediately want to go reread the whole series (its the opposite of a problem) anyway, thanks for following and I hope you enjoy!
want your own ficlet? check out the rules here
☂️☂️☂️☂️
london pack house, 9:30pm
After a particularly trying day running the hat shop, all Biffy wants is to get back to the pack house and sleep until the next full moon. He’s so tired, he doesn’t even have the twinge of resentment and regret he usually gets when he passes Lord Akeldama’s door.
Biffy’s fully intending to traipse up to his room and collapse on his bed, but a heavenly aroma wafting from the kitchen stops him at the foot of the stairs. He follows his nose and sighs when he sees Lyall alone at the counter.
LAST for the writing meme
Chloe: "Mr Reyes, sir- I did some sketches? You know, like, for the poster or even maybe the program?"
Mr Reyes barely acknowledged Chloe as he left. She sighed, flicking through her sketches.
debby ryan hair tuck
u know what ship
(deere its deere im insufferable)
I absolutely knew what ship you were going to ask
And I don't give them nearly enough attention. I think I need to write a fic
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
they'll be nearer thee... and understood for the ask game!
My beloved poets fic. Jake, Michael, Brooke, and Rich are a group of poets.
Jake and Brooke formed their duo first. They mostly kept each other at arms length due to their relationships with Chloe. But they shared an English class together and discovered they both really liked poetry. So they started hanging out a lot more, even when Jake and Chloe were broken up.
They would go to open mics at Jake's favourite cafe Halcyon, which is when they first tried to get Michael to join them. Michael stumbled across Halcyon during the events of the Squip. Jake and Brooke ambushed him. Slowly Michael started hanging out with them outside of school and they'd greet each other in the halls.
Rich joined post Squip. He approached them asking if they could help him with his own poetry.
They'd often meet up to write together, share poems, go to poetry evenings.
Christine knew about Brooke and Jake's poetry ventures after stumbling across them in the auditorium while looking for Mr Reyes.
I'm wanting to write a Jake-centric chapter but I need to write some more poems for it. I've written two poems from Michael's pov and one from Brooke's so far (the first few chapters are on ao3)
sliding in
deere for the ship bingo?
I always feel bad when I don't tick off a lot on one of these things but you are 100% so right with deere. They are good, they have so much potential
we were so caught up in life that we forgot to live. the time ran faster than us, pounding on the clouds above us with a deafening crash. we caught up anyways, and for a moment, we enjoyed the feeling of warmth and storm and still. we held hands in solidarity, deciding, for a moment, to live.
