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── "no you don't." this is clearly a tease, something said without any actual truth behind it, evident from the flash of a smile across bobbie's face. of course laramie does deserve her; they deserve each other, and they've proven that over and over again. from where she's perched against the kitchen island she watches as the water bottle is replaced with hands tugging open kitchen cabinets, and leans forward over the counter to get a better look. "mm... surprise me? something sweet," is her answer, before she slips around the side of the counter and into one of the chairs to sit there, instead, perched criss-cross. "who needs... whats-their-face, anyway. i'm way better company, y'know." bobbie's poor attempt at a pep talk, short-lived.

"i do not deserve you." laramie grinned, slender fingers against the cold water bottle grounding her. she wanted to be upset, devastated that she'd been blown off once more by someone who was never going to respect her to begin with, and yet, bobbie was here, so she couldn't find it in her to be too upset about it. "oh," laramie looked down at the bottle and laughed, "good point." she didn't get rid of it, just slid it across the counter top for later before reaching up to open the cupboards above the fridge. "preference?" she gestured to the collection à la vanna white.

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I’m actually really fun once you get to know me (takes 3-4 years).

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KRISTEN STEWART via Adir Abergel's Instagram (February 19, 2024)

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── "what— no, no of course not." her words are coming out all wrong, she knows that. she's grateful for the honesty, for brandon fully fessing up and telling her the truth, that much is clear in the look on her face. but that doesn't mean she's any better at addressing it, at giving him the answer that he's looking for. he offers to pretend that this never happened, that he'd never opened up, and odessa can't help the small laugh, the shake of her head — because she does that when she's nervous: laugh. "no, no i don't want to... pretend, you know? i'm glad you told me, seriously." she hopes this sounds as sincere as it is; because despite everything, despite the awkwardness, she is glad. he continues, finishes with a question, and that's when she chimes in with the, "of course not," an earnest and quick answer, shifting where she sits to fully face him. "you're... you're amazing, are you crazy?" her brows are knit over her eyes and her knees pull together, sheltering herself as she tries to come up with the words. the right words, this time. "it's not a bad thing, none of this is a bad thing, it'll just... take some getting used to. it's— i mean, it's not bad, but it's scary, right?" she doesn't know if he shares this, this fear of change that she's struggled with her whole life, but if he's being honest then she wants to be, too.

despite the words that left odessa, it was difficult for brandon to truly believe them. the uncomfortable silence that had settled between the two before he decided to voice his thoughts was proof enough to him that there had been a shift between them since he had decided to confess his feelings toward her. he knew from the start that it came with the risk of ruining things, but he hadn’t been fully mentally prepared for any actual changes. “we’re still the same us, but i’m not sure i’m the same me anymore…” it was quite a dramatic statement, but it was true. there were a lot of unspoken questions and doubts that were weighing him down, preventing him from truly being the same carefree individual he usually was. the sudden contact between them was simple in the form of a bump of her knee against his thigh, but it still caused his heart to jolt. his brows knitted together in confusion as his gaze locked with hers, “it… freaked you out?” he repeated her statement. “i promise that wasn’t my intention or anything, i just knew that i probably wouldn’t be able to keep it to myself for much longer without it blowing up in my face. but, we can pretend it didn’t happen if that will make you feel better.” maybe ignorance would make things go back to semi-normal. “although, i feel like i have to ask… is me liking you really such a horrible thing? am i that bad?”

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PHOEBE TONKIN.

BY ANNA NAZAVORA. © | NYLON MAGAZINE, FEBRUARY 2024 ISSUE.

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── "you're welcome." everything about this guy, luca has decided he likes. the sheepish smile, the nervous twitches, the small voice. luca hasn't ever been shy, not really; he's always been pretty unabashed in who he is, what he thinks, what he says or does. so it's refreshing running into someone who's so clearly the opposite, oozing nervous energy and stuck in their head. "nothing wrong with awkward. awkward's cute," he says, matter-of-fact, fingers drumming on the edge of the table. "and i... mine's more of a choice. busy guy." the truth? he's not the greatest with commitment, not the greatest at dealing with his selfish habits, not the greatest at taking things seriously. like this date, that he wasn't even supposed to be on. he makes note of finn's coffee order too, though, just in case it'd come in handy later, if this date didn't end up being a total disaster. "wanna play 20 questions? or..." he's so bad at this, it's obvious. "could always take the party somewhere else, go and grab a drink. drinkssss, plural."

finn opened his mouth to say something and then smiled at what he said next, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "i-thank you, i think." he didn't know how to accept compliments or well, he wasn't any good at it anyways. "oh, i kind of thought it was obvious. i'm a little awkward so dates are pretty more few and far between." though, this was one he was happy was happening. "what about you? i mean, i'm surprised you're not taken." he replied and pushed his fingers through his own hair, a bit of a nervous habit that he had. he took a mental note of luca's coffee order, just in case he would be able to use it in the future. "right, okay," he paused for a second to look back at the barista, "and i'll take a vanilla cold brew with the sweet cold foam on top."

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── he knows he's being ignored, of course. cardboard box tugged open with the flaps dangling at the sides, the book clerk's hands delving into the books inside and moving them around. fantasy, romance, poetry; and arlo can't help himself. he's already leaned halfway over the counter anyway, so he might as well... snatch one. and he does, one of the poetry collections, at about the same time as jasper deciding to give him an answer. "see, look at you, small town hero," arlo hums in praise with a waggle of his eyebrows, though the edge of frustration in the other's voice does nothing to dissuade him. "late, shmate. you're here, aren'tcha? and i won't tell if you won't." and, a-wink. he stays there, looming over the desk, only now thumbing through the pages of the book in his hands, eyes ever-so-often dancing up to jasper's face and then back down again, skimming (or, pretending to skim) the words. "or... i guess i won't tell. won't report it to your manager, or anything." his shoulders rise in a half-shrug, book lowered enough to allow him to fully peer over the top at the man behind the desk. "if you grab a coffee with me on your lunch break."

he had lived his entire life being misunderstood, being laughed at, being painted as the strange kid that nobody wanted to speak to. it was one of the reasons why, at twenty-five, jasper was so flustered, coming out in hives and cold sweats whenever he needed to ask the bill at a restaurant or book a doctor's appointment. his fingers moved to tangle at the nape of his neck, tugging harshly at the trapped strands, an attempt at calming himself down. "tuna hunting, yes." replied the bookseller, matter-of-factly, as he shifted his backpack beneath the counter, tugging open the cardboard folds of a box that housed the morning arrival of new paperbacks. "i didn't want to leave it out there in the cold, all scared with nowhere to go. so now i'm here, i'm late, my hands smell of tuna..." jasper's nose scrunched. his head twitched to the side. a pile of fantasy novels were piled up beside the register, followed by some fresh romance releases, a handful of poetry collections. for a moment he was silent, seemingly working and ignoring arlo's words, until the other was practically looming over the titles, his shadow eclipsing the gilded edges. finally, he caved. "the cat came down and licked my hand and let me stroke it for a few minutes before going off to wherever it needed to be. and now i'm here. late." and being distracted by someone who, no doubt, only wanted to rile him up further.

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🖤

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── "oh, what, you don't believe me?" gally shifts back a little to prop an elbow on the counter behind him, slumped against the kitchen counter. they're in his apartment (his too-nice, hardly lived-in apartment), and he's staring his guest down, eyes rolling back in his head, grin never seemed to drop off of his face. "okay, alright, i'll take that bet." it hadn't really been a bet to begin with, but now it would be; a lot can be said about gally, but he doesn't really shy away from a challenge if he can help it. "we're going out tonight. i bet that i'll be able to get somebody's number in ten minutes, or..." he pauses, index finger tapping his chin, feigning thought. "or you can have whatever you want." his hand drops from his face, making an 'X' motion over the left side of his chest. "cross my heart." @moonvvrites

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── he should probably look apologetic, right? as drake says those words, that he's sick of his shit. he's heard that one before, one too many times, from one too many people, and yet his expression doesn't dip or shift at hearing it. at least not until drake is turning away from him and shoving his way back inside, leaving him to follow. at that point, maybe, maybe there's a tiny tip of his mouth into a frown, a furrow of his brows to show some guilt, but by the time drake is facing him again, it'll be gone. he'll be back to his usual, that stupid smile and slump of his shoulders. he knocks the door closed behind him as he trails inside, and when he's tossed a bag of frozen vegetables he doesn't waste much time in lifting it up, pressing it against the eye that's swollen almost shut. "i dunno, you gonna start dancin' around, singing?" a poor attempt at a joke, one he can see doesn't really land. so, after a pause, he gives an honest answer. "bluffed some guy at the bar, playing pool. he got pissed about it." ...an honest answer, but not necessarily a good one.

"great. then you know i'm already sick of this shit." he partially says it to get it off his chest, make himself feel good on the inside, because on the outside he's a brewing stature of irritation and penguin sharp eyebrows. yet his concern is silently held in a different light, which could really speak volumes with the way he turns away from the open door, leaving behind a bruised and battered niko to follow him in. drake goes into the kitchen, pulls out one of the vegetable medley bags and tosses it towards him. "second best next thing to one of 'em. you gonna tell me what happened this time or keep expectin' me to ride along with this shit like mary poppins?"

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STEVE HARRINGTON 2.03 "The Pollywog"

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── "yeah, you're right, it shouldn't." if he's starting to sound a little frustrated, that's because he is; and this is a rarity for someone like darcy, someone so understanding, so slow to outbursts. and this isn't an outburst, not in any technical sense, but it's definitely a way he isn't accustomed to feeling, especially where robin is concerned. his eyes haven't strayed from robin's face through the entire conversation, from the moment they'd ducked into the back of the cab until now, but all of that changes as robin continues. voice softer, downcast, a rhetorical question directed at his lap. a rhetorical question that is then followed by a very real one, one darcy is meant to answer, one that has his hand pushing up from his lap to instead wipe over his face, card through his hair. "of course i do." he says it very matter-of-fact, earnest, head ducking forward a little as if pressing the words into the air between them, tighter. "you... i mean, you know that. you know i do. don't i show you?" he's doing that thing he does, where he over-worries, trips into the territory of thinking that maybe he'd been disappointing robin for far longer than he'd realized. "keeping our shit private doesn't suddenly mean i'm not serious about you. i am." eyebrows knit, lips pressed, he repeats the words. "i am."

"it shouldn't matter," he murmurs then and only whilst under the influence would he ever find the confidence or drive to admit to those fears that fill his abdomen, often lying there; unstirred, unmoving. yet now - he finds that they are attacking every inch of his system. nipping and biting and threatening to rip him apart inch by inch. robin hadn't ever had a real relationship before, he hadn't ever liked anyone the way he liked darcy. he didn't know what was normal or expected, but he figured it wasn't this exactly. "but it does matter, doesn't it?" it's spoken gently, barely above a whisper. he doesn't want to rock the boat and cause a fight or a scene, but he can't help the thought that it must matter a bit, or a lot, for them to have to shy away the way that they do. he understands the reasoning of course, he wouldn't want their break up to cause any collateral damage for anyone else, least of all darcy's family, but he doesn't see how dancing in the middle of a crowded room will cause that. how his family will find out about that. "do you even like me - like that?" he mentions then, referring to the idea of them being more than what they are; on being an open couple, a relationship he is able to talk about.

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COMMISSION! in the source link, you’ll find ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-NINE gifs of the actor KIT YOUNG in SHADOW & BONE (SEASON 2). all gifs were made by me from scratch, therefore i’d appreciate if they are not edited, redistributed, added to other gif hunts or claimed as someone elses. if you enjoy or plan on using them, please like or reblog the post. if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee!

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Drew Starkey photographed by Tanguy Onakoy at Paris Fashion Week.

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── luca could, definitely, see the shyness in finn's face. of course he could; who could miss it, with the fidget of his posture, the small stammer in his answer, palm rubbing over the back of his neck. but it wasn't the kind of shyness that made things awkward, made luca feel like there were gaps in the conversation he'd be forced to full. no, this was the fun kind, the type that left him with the opportunity to prod and pry, to press buttons, to try and summon red cheeks or dancing glances. "oh, yeah? not a big date guy? why not? i mean, you've got the face for it." his lips tug a little wider as he offers up the compliment (the second of the night, and not the last), before shrugging his shoulders. "eh... not really a big date guy myself, either. glad i came on this one, though." he pauses long enough to wave down the barista, order himself a coffee (iced, cream and sugar, matcha cold foam), and then nod his head to finn. "order whatever you want, i'm buyin'."

finn pursed his lips. this was certainly awkward but he was trying his best to act as cool about it as possible. he wasn't sure how well it was going though and he wondered if the other could see how shy he was about all of this. "i-yeah," he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "i hope not anyways." dating wasn't his forte and that was mostly due to the fact that he was more focused on school than anything else. he usually had his nose in a book instead of worrying about what was going on around him. his friends had insisted he go though. "no, i don't. actually," he cleared his throat, "i can't remember the last time i was on a date. what about you?"

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Jennifer Huang, from Return Flight; “Procedure”

[Text ID: “I am not accustomed to / this gentle; / I crush it.”]

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── "i am. i am about to say it sounds made up." you'd think the frantic, flustered look on the other man's face would be enough to convince arlo to let up a bit, to cut him some slack, but in fact it does just the opposite. this is a new look, one he hasn't seen on the shop clerk before: sticky, sweaty, heavy breathing. he's heard the word-tripping before now, has heard his fair share of apologies (whether they be directed at him, a supervisor, or some other unruly customer), but this is definitely the most un-tethered that he's seen this guy since he'd started visiting the shop. and he's gotta say, it's not a bad look. "right... right. so, long story short, you're late because you were out tuna hunting?" he's holding sarcasm in his tone, though really, in all honesty, there isn't any. he can absolutely picture this guy, hunched over a can of tuna, arms outstretched to try and lure a cat down from its perch in a tree. he just seems like that type, the running-late-to-work-because-i-was-saving-a-cat type. then the story's cut short, a backpack slung down off a shoulder, words cut off in favor of the mousy-haired clerk dismissing him, and now he's dipping down towards the desk, elbows spread, chin propped in the palm of one hand. "no, hey, come on. gotta at least tell me if you got 'em down or not. you've got me in suspense." his eyebrows raise, lips pulling a little at the corners.

there were the recognised customers, and there was the tall and dark-haired stranger that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. jasper had noticed his apparent cluelessness, the way his eyes wiped from one side of the shelf to the other without registering a single letter, how there always seemed to be a problem, or question, or anecdote at the counter. often jasper would hum and ring up the stack of books, on autopilot—that day, his underarms were sticky and he fought to catch his breath. "well, i saw a cat up a tree—and i know you're going to say that sounds made up, and i know it does..." the more he spoke, the more he tripped over the events he had recited on the way to the store. "i didn't want to spook it or scare it further down, so i had to take a detour to buy some tuna and coax it. it's not all that easy, you know, finding a tin of tuna in the middle of nowhere." it sounded as though his words belonged within the pages of a dr seuss book. maybe it would have been easier to string an excuse from those nonsensical rhymes. unwinding the strap of his backpack from his shoulder, jasper shook his head of silver-streaked strands and pressed his lips together. "why does it matter? you won't believe me anyway."