Gentry, Fairfolk, creatures of the night… grab your spookiest lanterns, sharpest knives, and pumpkin spice. We’re going haunting!
Want to join the haunt? Join the revel here. If not, feel free to walk through our crypt of sinister creations, and enjoy the revel.
-𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔏𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔩
ENTER IF YOU DARE…😈
guys I’m so sad I didn’t get to experience the whole Percy Jackson series as a kid. Like now I’m 21 and I just finished the percy jackson and the olympians and the heroes of Olympus series.
I really missed out ;(
Vegas looking real dull without Fleury’s gold pads 😪
seeing Fleury with Chicago still makes me so sad
rm day nine
shoutout to @whimsicallyreading for that joke
The first time that Rowan saw Aelin Galathynius, he was shaking her hand across a table the first night they were to select a slew of sketches for her to perform on Saturday Night Live. She was the host for the week, and everyone had been buzzing about her arrival. Not only was she a widely successful model and actress with more than a few awards under her belt, she was known in the entertainment industry for being a wildfire. Despite that, she was also known for being extremely kind to everyone she’d ever worked with. It made the cast and crew excited to get the chance to work with her, too.
The first thing that he’d noticed about her was her eyes. Such a brilliant shade of turquoise, squinted at the corners from her wide grin. The explosion of gold around her irises matched the gold of hair almost perfectly. Rowan had heard the term ocean eyes a thousand times, but this was the first time he’d understood it. There was so much depth to them, the faint green where the blue met the gold, the smallest flecks of brown scattered throughout. Rowan could have drowned at them. Willingly.
She was so breathtaking that it took Rowan a beat too long to realize that they’d been shaking hands for a little too long, her small hand warm and smooth in his own. It was another beat for him to realize he’d yet to say his name, though she’d said hers, and she was looking at him expectantly. And a little more knowingly than he’d like.
“Rowan. I’m one of the head writers on the show.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Was he making it up, or did that almost sound like a purr? Her accent was lovely, he detected both Adarlan and Terrasen in her voice somehow. The accents on their own were similar to each other, yet the way they melded together in her voice was like two puzzle pieces coming together.
Rowan had seriously been thinking too hard about it.
All week they met at that table, the first two days going over which sketches she wanted to perform that he and other cast members had come up with for her. Pride swelled in his chest when she’d laughed so hard at one he’d written that she’d needed several moments to stitch her professionalism back together. It had been an immediate yes through the sound of her giggles. The next day she’d asked if they could rehearse that one first.
It was, again, to no small amount of satisfaction on Rowan’s part.
Rowan had a reputation amongst his co-workers. Nobody had ever gotten him to laugh. A few small smiles here and there, which they all held over everyone else’s heads. But nobody had ever gotten him to truly laugh. Not because they weren’t funny– the cast was full of the funniest people Rowan had ever met. It was just because it took someone completely knocking his legs out from under him before it happened. This week, with Aelin as their host, he’d had to turn his head more than once to keep from truly laughing. Something about this girl continued to surprise him. She had received those small smiles more than even his Weekend Update co-host, Fenrys, had ever received. Even when he and Fenrys swapped jokes and Fen tried to make him look absolutely horrible.
But this girl… she had such a crackling personality that it was hard not to be taken under her spell. It was stupid, so incredibly stupid, but Rowan was so taken with her. He’d never believed in love at first sight, but gods damn him if he wasn’t starting to believe in it– just a little.
And it seemed that someone had clued her into the fact that Rowan Whitethorn didn’t laugh, because she spent any free moment she had trying to crack him. Rowan sat in the audience, scrounging headlines and turning them over in his mind while he made a slew of jokes to choose from later, and he didn’t miss the way she looked over at him after delivering solid punchlines. He tried to hide his smiles in his glass of water, or by chewing one of his ‘grossly healthy snacks’ as she’d declared on day three. But more than once she’d punched the air in victory because they’d snuck out and made a short-lived appearance before he’d willed himself back into a neutral expression.
It was during dress rehearsal that cracked him like an egg, and the joke wasn’t even that funny.
She was standing on the stage, seated on Dorian’s lap with a blanket draped over the both of them. He was in a motorized scooter and in makeup that aged him to look as though he were an old man. It was the sketch that Rowan had written that sent her into such bright, tinkling laughter.
Aelin had her arm draped around Dorian’s neck while everyone listened to the stage manager speak. When Lorcan was done, he walked off stage and Aelin’s eyes found him in the audience. Rowan was sitting with a few of their other cast members that weren’t part of the sketch, along with a handful of producers and other big-wigs when she’d looked into his green eyes and asked, “Do they call you ‘Whitethorn’ because you have a pale prick?”
The joke itself wasn’t that funny. Rowan wasn’t sure why he found it so outrageously hilarious. Maybe because she was acting like part of the permanent cast when she’d only been there a handful of days. Maybe it was because everyone else usually cowered in his presence, which could be quite overwhelming, he’d been told.
Regardless, he’d been unable to stop himself from sinking down in his chair, a handful of papers covering his face, as he lost all control and began laughing. His whole body was shaking with the sound, a deep rumbling that he couldn’t hide even if he’d wanted to. When he lowered the papers, still cracking up, his cast was just gaping at him. Even their genuinely funny jokes hadn’t gotten this sound out of him, and Aelin looked just as surprised as the rest of them.
“How the fuck?” Dorian mumbled under his breath, barely detectable over the mic he wore. The way they were all staring at him made it even harder to collect himself. It took a solid few minutes before he was able to clear his throat and sit back up in his seat. It was a bad joke, but it had really gotten him. And the jokes didn’t stop there. She kept trying to attain a second laugh every moment she was able to no avail.
Later that day when several of his friends asked why it had been so funny, he’d shrugged. “Probably because nobody that hosts even tries, and she’s been trying relentlessly. Reminds me of you lot, and I didn’t think anyone would ever fit in that wasn’t hand selected to be part of the show. I don’t know. It took me off guard.”
It was enough for them, it seemed, because they stopped asking. Aelin had beamed at him later, a bright white smile beneath red lips as they all went out for dinner that she insisted on paying for. Rowan had returned it.
From the time Aelin started her monologue to the last note their musical guest, Nehemia Ytger, played, the show was damn near perfect save for a few breaks from the cast. In Rowan’s opinion, it was one of the best shows they’d ever had and would probably go down as one of the best SNL episodes in history. It was definitely Rowan’s favorite, that much he knew.
It was when they were crowded on stage at the very end, everyone congratulating each other while the camera still rolled that caused a complete and viral social media frenzy. Of course, the hashtags regarding the show were full of fans favorite sketches and lines, but the majority of the tweets, instagram, and facebook posts were about one moment in particular.
Aelin was standing next to Rowan on stage, wearing a gold gown made of glittering threads that clung to her body in the most spectacular of ways. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination, bordering on looking more like a nightgown than anything, but little details here and there kept it from looking so. On a runway, he supposed it would have been beautiful. On her? It was breathtaking.
The crowd was cheering, the band was playing their exit music, and the cast and crew alike were congratulating and hugging each other over the success of another show. The camera was still broadcasting live to the entire country when Aelin rose up on her toes and whispered in his ear.
“I’m not wearing anything under this dress,” she’d said, her breath hot and tickling his skin. Every hair on his body raised and he barely suppressed a shiver down his spine. Rowan could feel the heat flood straight to his face, some of his blood going south of the border and he thanked the gods that Elide was standing in front of him and blocking the camera’s view of his lower region, lest he have tented pants on national fucking television. Rowan knew then that his face was red as all hell– even the tips of his ears, and Rowan had never been so hyper-focused on being touched as he was where Aelin’s fingers were gently wrapped around his forearm.
Sure, social media was talking about the hilarious sketches and the brilliant chemistry Aelin had with everyone on set, but the majority of the posts said one thing, the wording altered slightly to match their user.
WHAT THE HELL DID SHE SAY TO MAKE THIS MANS TURN SO GODSDAMN RED?! I’M SCREAMING
The morning truly couldn’t have been going worse. Aelin had woken up to the nanny telling her she’d come down with the stomach flu. Aelin wasn’t cruel enough to tell the poor girl she had to work through it; instead encouraging her to drink as much water as she could and get some much-needed rest. Evangeline had apologized profusely, but Aelin was having none of it. She reassured her that she could figure it out.
It turned out she couldn’t. Her mother and father both worked sixty hours a week. Aelin knew that her mother would take a day if Aelin called, but she couldn’t bring herself to make the call and disrupt her week. Evie’s father had died in a car crash before she was even born. Everyone who was a viable option worked full-time jobs, leaving her three-year-old in her hands. She could call out, but she had a mountain of a workload that she’d left last night, reassuring herself she would get it done today. Everything she needed was at her office, so working from home was out of the question. All signs were pointing to an impromptu “bring your child to work” day.
He asked her to move on, but now he’s jealous…
This pose was stolen from a blogpost I saw from SKAM. I haven’t seen the season where it was from, so idk what that moment was actually about, but I felt moved by it anyways and decided to use it for my angsty needs.
As the title implies, I will be updated my tag list for Noisy Neighbors. Originally, this list was comprised of anyone and everyone who wanted to be tagged in a TOG fandom fic, but as you may have heard, I will no longer be tagging for fics other than NN.
So! If you’ve received a notification for this post, it’s because you are currently on what will be my tag list for NN. In anticipation of Noisy Neighbors making its comeback (yay!), I want to clean things up. Here’s what I need of you:
- If you’d like to be tagged in future Noisy Neighbors updates, please like and/or reblog this post. (Signal boosts are appreciated, but I will also pin this post to my page. Hence the little nav list at the top.)
- If you don’t want to be tagged in Noisy Neighbors but you received a notification for this post, just ignore the post. I will remove you, and you won’t receive any further notifications.
- If you want to be notified of all of my fics, follow @noodlecatfics. I reblog everything there to do with my fics: updates, teasers, new fic announcements, headcannons, etc. Asks will not be shared there because, honestly, that would be a disaster.
And that’s it! 💕
The current (not updated) tag list is beneath the cut.
Rowaelin Month: PROMPT LIST
It’s here! The first of several moments we’ve all been waiting for.
For the past week, we have been carefully reading your suggestions and crafting this list, and we are beyond thrilled to finally share it with you!
Without further ado…
Happy writing/drawing/headcanon creation/playlisting/etc., and we look forward to seeing what you create!
If you are having a hard time viewing the prompts on the calendar for whatever reason, or if you struggle with images, the prompts are also listed out below the cut.
WE’RE A WEEK OUT!
Very excited for this.
I don’t know if you are like that too but in my head aelin is the best character in the world nothing beats my fire breathing bitch queen, she is the smartest, the most beautiful and the most wonderful of all times, I would literally walk in fire for her😭❤️
Summary: What if Hermione and Draco hadn’t decided to let the timeline play out? Could they have found each other another way? This is a companion story to Timeless (same characters, different universe).
Chapter 4 Excerpt:
“So it’s good?” Draco asked. “The life you’re in now. You seem fiercely protective of it.”
The other Draco’s lips turned up and he began absently playing with his wedding band. “It’s good. Really good.”
“You’re married,” Draco pressed.
“Yes. You learned that in your first jump.”
“And you don’t live here,” Draco added, remembering how his future wife’s hand on the family clock had been at a new position called London House.
“No, we don’t live here.”
Draco frowned. “How are you still able to act as head of the estate?”
“My wife altered the wards, tricking them into thinking I still live here.”
“I told you she was impressive.”
Draco knew this mystery witch was powerful, since he’d failed miserably when he’d tried to break the seals she’d placed on the letter the other Draco had given him during his first time jump, but altering ancient magic like the kind that protected the Manor was a whole other matter.
“How long did it take her?”
“She was researching it for a solid year. During that time, I was coming back and forth, spending at least two nights a week here, which we found was the minimum amount of time I needed to stay to have the house recognize me as a resident.”
“She must have really not wanted to live here,” Draco uttered under his breath.
“No, she hates this house,” he confirmed, but didn’t seem bitter about it.
“Why didn’t you just explain that it was part of her duty as the lady of the estate to live here?”
“Because I prefer to keep my extremities attached to my body,” he replied without a hint of irony.
Draco shook his head. What sort of Pureblood witch would refuse to live at Malfoy Manor? He understood a few of them being hesitant, given what had gone on here during the war, but he couldn’t see anyone downright refusing.
“You’re not going to tell me who it is, are you?”
“Do I know her?”
“Do you know her..?” the other Draco repeated, looking like he was trying to decide if he should answer the question. Or, rather, trying to remember if he had answered the question. “No, you don’t know her at all,” he eventually finished, sounding as if he’d chosen his words carefully.
“And what is such an incredible person doing with you?” Draco teased.
But the other man didn’t smile. He just nodded and said seriously, “I ask myself that everyday.”