#(this was such a fun way to wind down from studying for exams this week!)

[d0ppios]

I would absolutely love to see Shiki in some Yohji fits if you do decide to draw him omg that sounds amazing!~ (*´▽`*) he's just so cool... and handsome... Shiki is the reason why I wear all black tbh lmao. I get model!Shiki brainrot a lot... He's tall and he's got the face and body.... plus he's the only one in Toshima who actually has any fashion sense lmao. (sry if I'm bothering you I'm just happy someone else thinks Shiki would wear Yohji's ＼(￣▽￣)／)

this is the coolest request ever, im so glad im not the only person with shiki and archive fashion on my mind lmao ;-;🫶🏻 i picked look 34 from yohji yamamoto pour homme f/w04 and a january 24 look from an editorial on the official site, plus a random sketch i wanted to try from some official tnc art i rly like while practicing w a new brush! i love drawing from runway pics sm :’))

(i want to draw so much model!shiki now - i feel like he’d absolutely wear ann demeulemeester and maybe number nine too…but maybe im just projecting and want to draw him in clothes from my dream wardrobe moodboard lol)

[itskattkm]

Based on a request

Tara Carpenter x Fem Reader

Warnings: Christmas stuff, slight fluff, being nervous and shy as f*ck

A/N: Sorry for my bad writing, sorry for switching the perspectives :D I hope that the translation was at least good. Have fun. I tried my best.

When you’re home

Y/n sat on her armchair in her two-room apartment as she comfortably drank a ginger tea. When she took a sip of it, she slightly twisted her face and whispered "spicy." She smiled and looked out the window. It was snowing and the snow breathed the city of New York into a beautiful white. She ran over to the window and sat down on the window sill to watch the snow.

It was her first Christmas in New York. Before that, New York seemed to be a dream world for her. A world she only knew from movies. If her ten-year-old self could only see her now. She lived in a small overpriced apartment near her college. She studied (insert) and even had a girlfriend.

She was surprised herself. She could never have guessed how things would develop after she moved here. Y/N had a girlfriend. How strange.

As y/n continued to observe the falling snow, she had to think of Tara. What did Tara do right now ? She asked herself. She hadn't seen her girlfriend for a week because they were both busy with their exams. Now it was finally the weekend. For now, that meant that she could switch back and relax. No learning for now.

A flashing light attracted y/n attention. She looked to the left and could see how her neighbors opposite the house decorated their windows with fairy lights. "Oh shit," y/n said to herself. She had forgotten to buy and decoration for Christmas herself she totally forgot because of all the exam tasks, after all, tomorrow was already the first Advent. Y/N sighed and put her cup aside. This was her first Christmas alone. Without her family. Otherwise, her mother had made sure that everyone in the family came to decorate. She always bought the Christmas decorations.

Suddenly y/n cell phone rang. She looked over to the living room table and saw a picture of herself and Tara.

She answered and said shy "hey"

Tara laughed into the cell phone "y/n where are you? We're waiting"

Y/n looked confused out of the window

"What do you mean?" She asked laughing slight

Tara sighed slight

"Decorating. Christmas. You. Me. In... my apartment?" She said in a cute way

Y/n laughed and felt her heartbeat running faster "is this your way to ask me if I Wanne come over to decorate with you?"

Tara hesitated with the answer and grinned broadly when she said "maybe?"

Y/n grinned "wow who's the shy one now?"

Tara laughed "thin ice y/n... thin ice"

Y/n grinned wider and felt the heat in her cheeks. Normally y/n was always the shy and nervous one of both, but there were those rarely sweet moments when it was exactly the other way around.

"Okay Fine..." said Tara and sounded like she was giving up "would you like to come over for decorating? Since it will be our first Christmas together?"

"But it's not Christmas yet" I said teasing

Tara sighed again but y/n could already see in front of her eyes how Tara smiled, her dimples came out and the slight blush appeared in her cheeks.

"My god do you two always need so much time to get to the point?" I heard Sam say on the other side of the line.

Suddenly the cell phone rushed at Tara's side and Sam said to Y/n "please come over y/n. We wanted to decorate the apartment and we had the idea to invite you"

I smiled broadly and nodded even though she couldn't see it.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes... Should I bring anything?" I asked out of intuition and looked through my apartment. Im such an idiot I have no decoration at all I thought.

"Yes, I had the idea that the three of us could eat something... meet Tara in the New Bodega store you can help her with the groceries," said Sam

"Okay, I'm on my way"

Both ended the phone call and y/n put on her coat and gloves. She packed her keys and left the apartment. Outside, she immediately hit a light gust of wind with thousands of snowflakes. She straightened her coat and made her way to the bodega. As it was getting more and more windy, she tried to hurry.

When she saw the lights of the bodega, she sighed with relief and ran across the street. She ran into the bodega and a warm wave hit her. She took a relaxed breath and looked around to find Tara. At that moment, a laugh also had to refrain. Tara was too small to be able to see her across the shelves. And just as this thought went through y/n head, Tara appeared in the next aisle and looked at her warningly "I know exactly what you just thought" she said and pointed her finger at y/n.

Y/n laughed nervously and was thrown off by Tara with a pack of napkins the next moment. Y/n just caught the pack and looked at Tara with a crooked head "Sorry...?" Said y/n shyly.

Tara's facial expressions became gentler and she smiled as she slowly approached y/n. She grabbed her coat and pulled y/n closer to kiss her.

Y/n closed her eyes for a brief moment and had felt a pleasant wave of goosebumps all over her body as Tara's gentle lips touched her.

"What will we cook later?" I asked Tara as we separated from each other.

Tara looked at the little note in her hand "Just some pasta. Nothing special. But on Christmas Eve... you'll get the best Mexican food you have ever eaten"

She said excitedly. Y/n sprays a pleasant warmth in her body when she nervously said "so I’m invited for Christmas?"

Tara smiled wide and moved closer to y/n

"Your my girlfriend... did you though I want to spend Christmas without you?"

Y/n shrugged her shoulders "Yes but... Sam... your family?"

Tara slowly put her arm around y/n waist and kissed her gently on the cheek as she whispered "your my family now..."

Tara detached herself from y/n and searched the shelves for the last ingredients. Y/n looked at her with admiring eyes as she still felt the kiss on her cheek and Tara's words repeated themselves in her head. If only Tara could know how important these words were for y/n. Y/n didn't even knew it herself until that moment. Y/n came out of her trance and followed Tara.

Finally arrived at Tara's and Sam's apartment. Y/n Smiled amazed it was the complete opposite of her apartment. It smelled like baked cookies and there was decoration everywhere. When she entered the living room of the carpenter sisters, it was felt with warm light and a large Christmas tree.

"Wow..." y/n said speechless and looked at the top of the tree that touched the ceiling.

"Sam had to exaggerate a bit with the tree" said Tara and laughed behind y/n.

"Yeah sure... at least we have a Christmas tree. Now let's get this started," said Sam, who came out of her room and pressed a box into y/n hands. Tara brought the groceries to the kitchen and I stood in the living room like a lost deer. I looked around nervously and didn't know where and how to start. My heart began to beat faster and faster and I looked around slightly panicked.

The next moment, Tara took the box from me. She smiled warmly at me "Take off your coat and then help me..."

I nodded silently and went back into the hallway where I hung up my jacket at the cloakroom. I took off my gloves and went nervously back to the living room.

I stood in front of the tree with my arms crossed and looked up to the top with a concentrated look. Since the tree was too big, the top was bent a little because of the ceiling.

"If I get scissors... I could try to cut off the tip. So that a star still fits on it," I said shyly to Tara.

Even before I could finish my sentence, Tara was already holding scissors in front of my face.

I laughed lightly and took it from her.

After I took one of the dining table chairs and climbed on it to get to the top better, I struggled with the scissors to cut through the wood of the tip.

"How's it going up there?" Tara asked and without looking I knew that she was just grinning. I sighed "if you want you can give it a try," I said in a sarcastic tone and looked down at her.

She stood there with her arms crossed and grinned dirty "no thanks. Im good. I like the view tho..."

I looked away nervously and couldn't resist a slight laugh. I immediately felt the heat in my ears and shortly afterwards in my whole face.

After a few seconds, I managed to cut off the tip. And then threw it at Tara with a grin as I got off the chair.

"Hey!" She called and threw the tip back.

I caught it and put it on the living room table.

"I have to admit... I feel a little overwhelmed," I said nervously and looked at the tree and the boxes with the decoration.

Tara hugged y/n from behind and put her head on her shoulder.

"Relax..." she said.

I sighed "relax? Decorating the tree was always stressful at home. No matter how I and my dad had decorated in, my mom then corrected everything afterwards," I said and laughed nervously.

Suddenly I felt Tara's lips on my neck and I got very stiff.

I felt a tingling at the point where her lips had touched me. My thoughts were empty and I began to perceive more the pressure of her arms around my body.

"It's okay..." she now whispered in my ear and I had goosebumps again.

I went to relax my body and let myself fall into Tara's embrace. She held me tight and gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"Come on lovebirds..." said Sam and joined us in the living room.

Y/n blushed slightly again and started decorating the tree with the carpenter sisters. They began to tell each other their weirdest Christmas story's and made sure to not break any Christmas decoration.

When we finished decorating the tree, Sam and Tara began discussing about who could be the one to put the star on the top. I just kept grinning watching them discussing.

"Tara you don't even reach the top and I bought the tree" she said teasing and held the star up so Tara couldn't reach it.

I had to keep my laughing back so hard. I never thought Sam would really tease Tara because of her size.

"Oh really? Watch me!" Said Tara competitive and managed to get the star out of Sam's hands.

Tara walked towards y/n and said

"Pick me up"

"What?" I said and laughed.

Tara looked at me with a tilted head and a slight serious look.

I stopped laughing and nodded. I bent down and put my arms around her thighs and lifted her up the next moment.

Sam laughed "I can't believe it"

We laughed when I held tara up so she could reach the top.

"Everything okay up there?" I asked grinning after Tara still didn't manage to put the star on.

"Why don't you try?" She said slightly annoyed, but I heard a smile.

I grinned broadly and held her tighter.

"Im good... I like the view" I said teasing and looked up at her while her ass wasn't far away from my face.

Tara stopped in her move and looked down at y/n with a grin, before putting the star on top of the tree.

"Finally..." said Sam and left into the kitchen.

I breathed out and let Tara down careful.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

After decorating the rest and eating together it was already dark outside.

"Thank you for the invite..." I said shy and finished to clean the last dish from our dinner.

"You don't have to be y/n... you’re part of the family" said Sam with a warm smile and touched slight y/n’s shoulder as she left the kitchen.

Again I had that goosebump on my whole body. Family. I repeated in my head.

I turned around and leaned on the kitchen counter when Tara walked towards me and grabbed my hands and intertwined our fingers.

"You good?" She whispered and moved closer to y/n

"Yeah why?" I asked quite and looked into her dark welcoming and shining eyes.

Tara shrugged her shoulders and smiled shy

"You seemed to be a bit off..."

Y/n let go of Tara's hands and placed them on Tara's hips and pulled her closer in.

"I'm good..." I whispered with a slight smile.

Tara moved her hand slowly around y/n neck and moved even closer whispering "you stay the night?" Her lips brushed slight y/n’s.

Y/n blushed and grinned shyly.

"Only... if you help me next weekend to decorate my apartment cause I totally forgot about Christmas and have nothing for my apartment".

Tara smirked and kissed y/n deep before whispering "I'll take care of that".

One week passed. It was Friday evening y/n was lying on her couch in black joggers and a hoodie. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Y/n furrowed her brows and got up. Who could that be. She didn't had invited anyone. As soon as she opened the door she saw Tara, Mindy, Chad and Sam. Holding many shopping bags and boxes in their hands.

"Hello there!" Called out Mindy like y/n always did.

They walked past y/n and got into her apartment.

"Damn we got some work do to here" said Sam. While y/n looked confused after chad, Mindy and Sam. Tara was standing beside y/n with a wide grin.

"I told you I'll take care of that"

Y/n looked shy at Tara "thank you..." she said quite.

There was this spark in Tara's eyes again. She moved closer to y/n and held up suddenly a mistletoe.

Y/n blushed more and felt caught off guard.

Tara kept grinning "your so shy sometimes I love it" she whispered while grabbing y/n by her chin and kissing her deep.

Y/n felt herself melting away in Tara's hands. She felt the warmth of her hands on her face and her soft lips on hers.

She pulled Tara closer and kissed her back

After both stopped kissing, y/n rested her forehead on Tara's and whispered "you feel like home to me you know that right?"

Tara smiled and caressed y/n cheek

"I know..."

Y/n kissed her softly and pulled her arms around Tara "we're family now..."

[shadowtriovibes]

dance in a storm in my best dress

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3K

Summary: by request: "I have a fun idea! How about Sebastian and f!mc are "just friends" until one day she asks him to help her try on/give his opinion on some new dresses, and desire and spice ensue??"

"Go on and change back into your robes, Mister Sallow," the shopkeeper says. "I suspect we’ll be inquiring about your opinion shortly." While Sebastian returns to the back, Mr. Hill summons a modesty screen around the rack of dresses you’d pulled and waits patiently while you slip out of your school robes and wrestle your way into that first dress – the periwinkle blue. There are so many layers that it takes you at least ten minutes to even put on your crinoline, which Mr. Hill assures you he’ll let you keep on for all three options. "Have you even put one on yet?" you hear Sebastian call out when he returns. "Merlin's beard, you’ll take on a den of trolls by yourself but you’re bested by today’s fashion trends!"

“Thank you for coming with me,” you say softly, shyly tucking your face a bit deeper into your oversized scarf as you avoid snow swirling around you.

It’s not an intense blizzard by any means, but nevertheless you appreciate that Sebastian had agreed to trudge down to Hogsmeade with you that afternoon when he could have spent the day with a dreadfully boring book by the fire in his common room, which is typically how he spends any free time he has as a seventh-year N.E.W.T.s student.

“Of course,” he says easily. “It’s about time I came up for air, so to speak.”

Despite the ongoing pressure of your final year of school, it had felt like all of Hogwarts had been abuzz about the upcoming holiday ball for what felt like weeks. Even you and your treasured trio of Slytherins had made plans to go together, and your daydreams of twirling across an enchanted dance floor in a fabulous gown had helped get you through some of the most arduous study sessions you’ve ever experienced.

With your end-of-term exams having concluded the day before, there was now only one thing standing in the way of you blowing off some steam at the ball with your best friend.

You need a dress.

Poppy had been the one to inform you that Mr. Hill had specially ordered some lovely fabrics from London as soon as he’d caught wind of an upcoming formal occasion. While it’s certainly too late to have anything custom made, you hoped you’d be able to find something in his shop that would suit you with a few minor alterations.

You’d invited Sebastian to join you on your shopping trip primarily for moral support, as the two of you were going to the ball together as friends.

(Anne had been quick to claim Ominis as her date so that she wouldn’t have to take her own brother, and you and Sebastian had been equally loath to bother asking anyone else.)

However, you suspect you may also need some help physically donning the dresses. You may not know much about what’s in fashion these days, but hearing some of your classmates boast about precisely how many garment layers they’d be wearing had nearly made your head spin.

“Do you have your dress robes?” you press him skeptically. “Anne said you were procrastinating.”

“Yes, nosy,” he laughs. “Ominis made me pick some out last weekend, and Mr. Hill should have them in for me by now.”

“Good,” you say primly. “You’ll have to try them on while we’re there and make sure they fit.”

“This is now my second trek into Hogsmeade for this silly ball,” he points out with a cheeky grin. “I hope it’s going to be as enjoyable as you lot are saying it’ll be.”

“It will,” you insist. “We all need something like this, something that’s just… joyful, I suppose.”

Sebastian glances sidelong at you with a tender smile.

“Fair point,” he agrees. “Right as usual, you are.”

“You’re still surprised after all this time?” you tease him, bumping your shoulder against his while he laughs.

When the two of you walk into Gladrags, Augustus Hill perks up excitedly and slips out from behind the ornate counter.

“Ah! Just the young witch and wizard I was hoping to see today,” he crows. “Come in, come in! I dare say, it’s awfully frigid today.”

You hang up your cloaks while Mr. Hill rustles up a tray of tea for the both of you. Ever since that troll encounter years ago, the Gladrags shopkeeper has always had a soft spot for you and Sebastian, which often results in the two of you feeling downright spoiled every time you visit him.

“Thank you, Mr. Hill,” you say as you accept the warm mug he offers.

“Mister Sallow,” he says as he hands Sebastian his tea. “Your dress robes came in just this morning! Why don’t I send you off with young Otto to try it on and mark up any alterations?”

You glance warily at Sebastian, reluctant to split from him as you do your shopping.

As though he’d read your mind, Mr. Hill laughs and insists, “He won’t be kept long, my dear! Fitting a young man’s dress robes is a much simpler task than that which you have on your hands, I should expect.”

“Why don’t you just pick out some things to try while Otto works his magic?” Sebastian teases. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Once you agree, Mr. Hill sends Sebastian to the backroom while you sip your tea and discuss some of your preferences with the kindly shopkeeper. You admit to not being very knowledgeable about fashion, but you have some colors in mind that you think may suit you – as well as very strict expectations on how much range of motion you want to maintain.

“I need to be able to breathe,” you insist, glancing hesitantly at some of the impossibly small corsets in the window display.

Peering over his spectacles with a wise smile, he answers, “I think that can be arranged.”

He then begins to show you the collection of remaining dresses he has in stock. As the premier clothier for the majority of your fellow witches at Hogwarts, he doesn’t have an unlimited supply this close to the ball, but his selections don’t disappoint.

“This blue color is quite pretty,” you sigh, gingerly inspecting the sleeve of one of the dresses he offers.

“I suspected you might like that one,” he says brightly. “Let us pull it for now and select a few more for you to try on, hmm?”

You end up also selecting a red gown with a smart-looking cape that would show off your house colors brilliantly and a crisply white evening dress with delicate golden embroidery around the bottom of the skirt.

“This should do for a start,” Mr. Hill says.

“Really? No green?” Sebastian asks from behind you.

When you turn to remind him pointlessly that you aren’t actually a Slytherin, your words fail you.

He looked utterly dashing in his dress robes. At first glance, he appeared to be wearing what looked like a Muggle tuxedo, but the extra-long tails and high collar gave away that it was most certainly wizarding apparel. His jacket and pants were both inky black – so dark that they appeared to even darken the room around him, or maybe you had just lost focus of everything that wasn’t him.

Of course, having been expertly fitted by Otto, Sebastian’s robes seem to cling to every inch of him. The waistcoat makes his waist look exceptionally narrow, or perhaps it’s that his chest looks so broad. His shoulders appear to be broader as well underneath his jacket, and while the long tails might appear to shorten other men, on Sebastian they merely elevate the length of his legs.

He slips on a pair of white gloves that Otto hands him and you bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. He looks like a proper gentleman dressed like this, you think – not at all like the haphazardly-robed young man you’re used to seeing.

“Ah! Excellent,” Mr. Hill says with a clap, breaking your trance. “A perfect fit.”

“How do I look?” Sebastian asks you teasingly.

“B-brilliant,” you stammer. “It, um. Fits. You’re fit – I mean, it fits very well.”

“Of course, we’ll charm the waistcoat to whatever color you’d like to match your dress, once you’ve made your selection,” Mr. Hill explains as he gestures to the garment. “Or simply leave it white.”

“Of course we’ll match,” Sebastian says easily. “But getting this one to make a selection isn’t going to be easy.”

You scoff and turn back around to the rack of dresses to hide your persistent blush.

“Go on and change back into your robes, Mister Sallow,” the shopkeeper says. “I suspect we’ll be inquiring about your opinion shortly.”

While Sebastian returns to the back, Mr. Hill summons a modesty screen around the rack of dresses you’d pulled and waits patiently while you slip out of your school robes and wrestle your way into that first dress – the periwinkle blue. There are so many layers that it takes you at least ten minutes to even put on your crinoline, which Mr. Hill assures you he’ll let you keep on for all three options.

“Have you even put one on yet?” you hear Sebastian call out when he returns. “Merlin’s beard, you’ll take on a den of trolls by yourself but you’re bested by today’s fashion trends!”

“Come and help me then!” you whine.

“Er – is that alright?” Sebastian asks Mr. Hill.

“Of course!” he exclaims. “He’s your date, it would be unchivalrous not to assist you.”

That’s when you realize that Mr. Hill probably thinks you and Sebastian are properly dating, but for reasons you don’t want to admit to yourself just yet, you don’t correct him.

You could also sorely use some help as well.

“Mind the petticoat,” you mumble as he ducks behind the screen.

You’re both quiet as Sebastian helps carefully bundle up the skirt of the dress and drape it over your upright arms, slowly working it down your body so that it doesn’t catch on any of the boning in your corset. Once the skirt gracefully pours down over your petticoat, you gently smooth the bodice and turn around so he can lace up the strings crossing your back.

“Too tight?” he asks softly.

“N-no,” you murmur. “You can even do them a bit tighter, actually.”

You gasp softly when he pulls on the strings and cinches your waist tighter, and Sebastian pauses for a beat, but you don’t instruct him to loosen it.

Once he fumblingly ties the strings together at the small of your back, he mumbles, “All set.”

He offers you a hand to steady you while you shuffle out from behind the screen. Mr. Hill immediately laves praise onto the dress, and while you agree that it is quite lovely, a glance in the mirror reveals that periwinkle blue just isn’t a color in which you shine.

“No matter,” the shopkeeper insists. “Onto the red, shall we?”

Sebastian again helps you slide the dress off up over your head and replace it with the red one, this time lacing you tightly from the start. There’s a delicate cape that goes with this one, so you turn around to face him so he can drape it over your shoulders and tie the small silk ribbons that sit just at your collarbones.

“Ought to be plenty warm in this one,” he jokes halfheartedly, trying and failing to resist the urge to sneak glances at your décolletage.

“Is the cape a bit…?” you ask quietly, wrinkling your nose. “Is it too much?”

“What?” he asks dumbly. “O-oh, no, I – I think you look great. It’s a great dress, really.”

You’re nearly as red as the dress when you emerge for a second time, and once again Mr. Hill thinks you look like “a buxom Beauxbatons beauty from the boulevards of Paris.” However, regardless of your house pride, if you’re going to be blushing like this all evening at the ball – and the odds on that are significant – you know you simply can’t go with red.

“I have one more to try on,” you tell Sebastian softly. “It’s that white one, just there.”

You notice Sebastian’s gaze linger on the ornate embroidery, a pleased look passing over his face.

“It’s stunning,” he tells you. “Shall we get it on you?”

You merely nod, not trusting yourself with words at the moment.

The moment Sebastian helps you slip into the white dress, you know you have a winner. As if imbued with magic (and perhaps it is indeed), the white silk shimmers almost like the fresh snow outside the shop window. However, instead of feeling like a proper ice princess, you feel warm all over – especially where Sebastian’s hands mindlessly reach out to trace the fine embroidered patterns on your bodice.

“You look…” he exhales. “You just need to see, come on.”

He walks you out for the last time and even Mr. Hill refrains from commenting until you twirl in front of the mirror, your skirt gracefully lifting and falling with your movement.

“...I look beautiful,” you whisper. “Oh, Mr. Hill, it’s just lovely.”

“This is the one,” Sebastian insists. “You have to pick this one, it’s hardly even a choice.”

“Your companion is correct!” Mr. Hill crows. “My dear, it’s as if that gown was made precisely for you.”

Otto comes by to charm a few simple adjustments into the fabric of the dress and you watch yourself in the mirror with wide eyes as it molds itself to your body. Now it looks just like one of those custom dresses in the illustrations that the girls in your year pour over in the shopping pages at the back of the Daily Prophet.

“I think we’re done here,” Sebastian says quietly, his eyes still fixed on that one embroidered seam at your waist where your bodice meets your skirt.

“Of course,” Mr. Hill agrees. “Let’s get you out of that crinoline so I can send you two lovebirds on your way for a nice Butterbeer or two!”

As he babbles on about how it’s just like the last time the two of you came into his shop together, you meet Sebastian’s gaze and realize both of you are steadfastly refusing to correct the man. You know that you’re blushing, but seeing him blush just as fiercely is quite revealing.

After you pay Mr. Hill and make plans for Otto to deliver the dress to the castle once the storm lets up, you and Sebastian wordlessly trudge down to Sirona’s lively pub. There you manage to snag a small booth in one of the far corners – one that you’re well aware is a popular spot for snogging.

“So…” he says softly. “Lovebirds, are we now?”

“Don’t start,” you warn him. “You know how Augustus is, it’s usually just better to let him talk than spend all afternoon trying to correct him.”

“You didn’t even try,” he observes.

You counter, “Nor did you.”

Just then Sirona drops off your drinks and Sebastian forfeits his turn in your verbal duel by taking a pointedly long sip.

Then you forfeit your own turn when you get too distracted by the bit of Butterbeer foam on his upper lip to offer anything remotely witty.

“Well, regardless,” Sebastian eventually murmurs. “You did look beautiful in that dress.”

“Thank you,” you say. “And you were very handsome in your robes.”

“Proper fit, one might say,” he retorts.

The cheek, honestly.

“Sebastian,” you say quietly. “I need you to be honest with me about something.”

“Go on,” he says, taking another long sip while you consider your words.

Slowly, you ask him, “Since we met… have you ever once thought about us being more than just friends?”

“Have I ever once thought about it?” he repeats. “Of course I have. Countless times, probably”

“Then why haven’t you ever said anything?” you ask, staring deep into your mug to avoid having to meet his eyes.

You flinch slightly when Sebastian reaches across the table and plucks one of your hands off your mug. He laces his fingers with yours and pulls you closer, and the noise in the room seems to dwindle to a whisper as he meets your gaze.

“Between you and me, you’ve always been the brave one,” he tells you earnestly. “And I’d rather have only friendship with you than ask for too much and lose you entirely. Believe it or not I have learned when to stop.”

You smile ruefully at the reminder of just how much Sebastian has grown since you chose to give him the chance to do so.

He drags his thumb across yours. “So, if you want to be brave, I’ll be brave with you.”

You exhale shakily before you finally confess, “Of course I want to, Seb.”

You’re nearly in his lap at this point, and there’s absolutely no way the conversation you’re having could be interpreted as merely friendly by any onlookers. So, you think, why not be brave?

When you kiss him, the first thing you notice is that he tastes like the caramelly richness of the Butterbeer you’d both been drinking. But then it melts away and it’s just him, just Sebastian. He’s wonderfully warm, and underneath the initial sweetness he tastes a bit like the fluxweed stem he mindlessly chews on while he studies to help him focus.

His nose slots against yours as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, and you wonder what he’s noticing about you.

But a moment later, the feeling of his warm hand on your thigh immediately makes you lose your train of thought.

“Seb,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to press your forehead to his.

“Let’s go back to the castle,” he blurts out eagerly.

You fondly roll your eyes and let him steal another kiss before you push him back with a gentle hand on his chest.

“I believe you just said something about having learned when to stop?” you tease him.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he says cheekily.

“You’re just going to have to be patient, Mister Sallow,” you insist as you reach for your drink. “I thought I saw quite the gentleman in you today. I don’t suppose you could act like him until after the ball?”

“I could,” he offers. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Tell you what,” you bargain, leaning in close. “If you can be a perfect gentleman from now until the ball, I’ll let you help me put my dress on, and then afterward I’ll let you take it off.” 

You hear him loudly swallow and take a deep breath before he holds out a hand for you to shake and breathes, “You have yourself a deal, love.”

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-One

The days in Cyprus feel nothing like the days at home. They’re missing the structure, the pattern, the routine, and a few days in I lose grasp of where I am in the week. Is it Wednesday? Thursday? The boys study and write for far too much of their time, usually taking up the evenings hunched over their laptops, which I find horrifyingly wasteful, considering the breeze is such a perfect temperature, and the flagstone of the house is warm underfoot in April like some divine miracle of nature. 

I’m doubly horrified to walk in on them both at the kitchen table one morning, laptops and papers covering every inch of the surface. “What the hell?” I say, still half dazed from sleep. “It’s ten, are you setting up to be doing this all day?”

“You’ll understand when you’re in fourth year, Evie,” Shane mumbles. “The exams are looming large.”

“Here’s a concept, enjoy your holidays,” I say, and I shuffle over to Jude to gently squeeze his shoulders. “Bibliography?”

“Bibliography,” He grunts, and that’s all he will say until he can tear his eyes away from it. He’s a terrible multitasker, and gets so absorbed in things that he might as well be on another planet. In fact, I’m surprised he even realises there are other people in the room. 

Claire appears from the laundry room with a clean set of towels and swoops over to the kitchen counter to put them into a large canvas bag, then throws open the fridge to retrieve a jug of fresh orange juice. “Looks like a girl’s day out,” She says with sparkling eyes. “As in, no boys allowed.”

“Oh thank God,” I roll my eyes theatrically, “They’ve been such a drag this entire time, I can’t wait to get away from them,” In fact they’ve been completely lovely, and my joke is wasted on them now because neither of them is even listening. 

Claire and I have a quiet breakfast around the kitchen island while the boys work and the birds chirp happily outside the open door to the patio, and when we’ve cleaned up and gotten ready for the day she goes to kiss her boyfriend goodbye. 

“We’ll probably be all day,” She says to him with a hand that smoothes down his hair, longer and more relaxed looking than it’s ever been. “I have some pretty fun things in mind for us, so I’ll see you much later on,” She smirks at me, “Or maybe not, who knows what we’ll get up to, we might end up out all night.”

“As long as ye behave yourselves,” He mutters.

“Are you jealous?”

“Of your girls day?” He glances up at her with a smirk, “Yeah I’m mad jealous, I can’t get over it. Go on,” he smacks her lightly on the arse, “Get up outta here, give us some peace, the both of ye.”

She studs his whole head with kisses, and I smile to myself watching them. They’re behaving in such a way that would have ordinarily disgusted me, but seeing them like this lately has only made me happy, like a little girl whose parents are getting back together. I lean my hip into Jude so that he can wind his arm around my waist and kiss the side of my ribs. He looks up at me through thick dark lashes, one hand still resting on his keyboard. “Will you miss me?” He says.

“No,” I tease, “I’ve had way too much of you already.”

“Fair enough, I’m mostly good in small doses.”

“Yeah, get me away,” I roll my eyes and act like I’m so tired of him, but the moment that Claire and I are out the front door I feel the weirdest longing in my body, an absence like a phantom limb. We climb into the taxi that we called for, and as we’re reversing out of the driveway I crane my neck in the seat just to catch one last glimpse of him through the kitchen shutters, craning over his work with the morning light in his hair. 

The flea market in Paphos is crowded. As Claire and I walk towards the centre of the heaving mass of bodies we lose ourselves entirely in a cornucopia of wares. There are stalls piled high with linens, pillowcases with delicate embroidery, rugs rolled and stacked against walls, brown clay pottery, little boxes adorned with tiny beads, stalls stuffed with leather goods, hats, scarves, bandanas. Lost in a maze of colour and texture I feel like I’m inside a painting. 

Claire stops and drapes a patterned scarf over her hair, bending down to admire herself in a small mirror. “Grace Kelly,” Says the vendor, and he speaks English, knowing we are tourists just by looking at us, “This is a very beautiful scarf for you.”

“I don’t think I’m like Grace Kelly,” She says, and neatly folds it back onto the table. “I’m just blonde, that’s all.”

“No, you have the same eyes,” he insists, coming around the table to admire her, “Just like Grace Kelly, this scarf is the perfect colour for you.”

“No,” She says again, sounding bored, “I’m a bright summer, this scarf has autumn tones, I don’t want it” and she links her arm with mine and guides me away from him before he can start trying to convince me instead.

“That would have worked on me,” I confess as we move on to the next stall, “I feel like someone could charm their way into my purse by telling me things like that.”

“Don’t say that too loudly,” she snickers as we pass another vendor who starts calling to us, saying we’re English roses. “Irish,” Claire hawks back in her best Tullamore accent, then to me, “I hate that, do you not? When they always think you’re British.”

“They always do, what do you think it is about us?”

“Your sunburn, probably,” she teases, and I stop at a mirror at a clothing stand to examine the rosy blush across the shoulders and chest. “One time when Jude was in Thailand this guy tried to fight him on the street when he thought he was English,” I tell her,  “When He said he was Irish, actually, the guy bought him a beer, what do you think that’s about?”

“Well he’s not really,” She says with a roll of her eyes, “Sounds like he’s just playing the Irish card when it means he won’t get dragged into a fight.”

I laugh, “I don’t know, a lot of the time he seems deeply Irish to me, sometimes I forget he isn’t. Like, all the way, at least, because his accent is so changeable, and the way he phrases things sometimes just really doesn’t feel that American,” The owner of the stall starts approaching with an armful of white linen. “I don’t know what he is. Something in between, it’s really so interesting.”

“You’re so obsessed,” Claire says with a laugh, “I challenge you to go an hour without bringing him up.”

“Everything reminds me of him though,” I huff, and the vendor, without saying a word, holds a dress out in front of my body so I can see how it might look on me, “I swear, I see a seagull eating scraps off the ground and remember a story he told me related to that too, he just bounces around in my head endlessly. Oh this dress is nice, what do you think?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Claire agrees. 

“Genuine linen for a good price,” the vendor starts saying, as though she believes somehow that I might be a tough-sell. What she doesn’t know is that I, for the first time in my adult life, have a bank account with money in it that I’m more than eager to spend. Then she says more things about the weave, and the hand sewn detail, about how I would look good in anything, but I’m really just focussing on the way that the colour, this slightly off white, creamy fabric makes my skin look like soft porcelain rather than it’s usual almost sickly, translucent white, and now these delicate embroidered details across the bodice pick up the green in my eyes. 

“What does it cost?”

“Usually fifty euros, but thirty five for you.”

“Twenty,” Claire pipes up. 

“Okay, thirty,” they both look at me. “Alright,” I say, “Thirty seems fair.”

“You just bought a dress that you didn’t even try on,” Claire points out as we walk away, and I peer down into the striped plastic bag. 

“You’re right,” I say, “But isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is, it’s just not like you, you know, to like, just buy something without thinking about it.”

“I think I like having money in my account that I can do that with, it just feels like, why not?”

“And if it doesn’t fit you?” 

“Well I think there’s freedom in impulsive purchases.”

I like the market. I move from stall to stall and look at everything, the pottery, the rugs, the postcards, the stalls full of vintage items, old records and lamps and pieces of ceramic. I let my hand brush over things, like I’m really thinking about buying it, and sometimes I even entertain the idea, but I don’t, until we arrive at the one with the sweets, heaps and heaps of them, prismatic, primary shades, glittering with sugar, and I buy a bag of peach rings, because I was never allowed to have them as a child. For some reason these were considered expensive, luxury sweets by my mam, and she’d usually direct me towards the ones that the local shop had tied up in little plastic bags with 50p stickers on the side and filled with an assortment of whatever was leftover at the bottom of the tubs once most of them had run out. I eat several of the peach rings but get sick of them because they’re too sweet, and it’s okay, because Jude will eat them for me later. It feels nice to be frivolous. 

There is a woman moving through the crowd in a long skirt and a colourful shawl who is stopping to talk to people as she goes, trying to sell them something, I don’t know. I look at her for ages because her clothes are mesmerising, all rich jewel tones that move around her body like liquid, and layers of glass beads hang around her neck, reflecting cones of coloured light onto her bronzed skin. I want to try and paint that light to see if I could ever capture it. 

Claire pokes a sharp elbow into my ribs. “Stop looking,” she hisses, “She’ll only come over.”

“Who is she?”

“I dunno, some fortune teller or something, it’s a scam.”

“Oh,” I don’t look away fast enough, and she meets my eyes through an opening in the crowd. 

“Oh feck, she’s coming over now,” Claire turns away and pretends to be busy looking at some lace, “C’mere, just turn this way.”

It’s too late. The woman is at my elbow. “Kalimera,” She says in a smoky voice, and I realise with a tiny thrill that she hasn’t realised I don’t speak greek, she doesn’t think I’m a British tourist. I look right at her as she goes on, saying something else that I can’t understand, and when she reaches for my hand and flips my palm skyward I don’t stop her, I don’t really know why.

“I’m sorry,” I say to her, “Um, in English?”

“Ah,” she says, her accent thick, words fractured, “The lines, they talk much. Destiny, life, heart.”

“You want to tell me about my future?”

“For God’s sake, Evie,” Claire grumbles somewhere behind us, “Let’s go, come on.”

But I don’t want to be rude. “You know, I’ve actually had my palm read before, I don’t really think that I need it today.” She doesn’t have to know that I’m talking about Jen, who just looked at my hand and made stuff up, but anyway, she doesn’t seem to understand me. 

“Eh?”

“No thank you,” I say more clearly, “I don’t want it.”

She doesn’t care. “I see destiny line, great success, you work hard, eh?”

“No,” I say awkwardly, and wriggle free of her grip. “We have to go now.”

“Tarot,” She says abruptly. “You know?”

I blink, “Like, as in, tarot cards? Like, death, the lovers, all that?”

“Yes, yes,”

“What about it?” 

Claire groans dramatically and tugs on the strap of my shoulder bag and I ignore her, my interest suddenly piqued. 

“I can show you,” The woman says, “There is another reader, not me, over there,” She gestures vaguely down the street behind her. 

“How much?”

She waves her hand around indecisively, “Maybe ten euros,”

I shrug, “Okay,” and glance over my shoulder at Claire who looks incensed. “Evie! What the hell?”

“I’m curious, “ I shrug, “I think it might be fun.”

“Yes, a fun way to waste your money.”

I sniff, “Well, it is my money, and I can do what I like with it.”

“You’re throwing it away on things like this, it’s all just fake, they just make it all up.”

“Well, maybe it’ll be insightful, I don’t know.”

She throws her hands up in surrender, “Okay, fine.”

I turn back to the fortune teller, “Where do I go?”

“Here,” She says, and begins to weave through the crowd. I follow, and Claire is at my heels, muttering into my ear, “Wherever it is, I’m standing right nearby, and if they try to scam you out of more money I’ll actually go mad on them, I just can’t believe you’re actually going to throw your money away on this, it’s just…”

We end up at a wooden door tucked in between a cafe and a bookshop. There are plants from the balcony overhead hanging low above it, and pots of ferns and climbing mandevilla creeping up the wall intriguing me, beckoning me inside like it’s a secret entrance that has emerged from the wall at this particular hour on this particular day when the sun is at its perfect height to thrust a chink of light through the gap in two buildings upon it, but there’s a sign on the door saying TAROT READINGS €10 which kind of ruins the mysterious allure. 

“Here?” I say to the palm reader, but she’s already gone. Claire sees my stunned face and points towards a produce stall. “She’s there,” She says, “She’s off propositioning someone else, in case you were thinking she’s after vanishing into a puff of smoke or something.”

“No,” I lie. 

“If you want to go in I’ll be right out here.”

“Alright,” I say, and push through the door. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[clarawilmore]

open starter for anyone - capping at...5 or something???

location: the park

The small but appreciated uptick of temperature in Providence Peak meant that Clara could start her previously agreed upon New Year's Resolution, jogging 3 times a week with the hope to eventually do it more. It wasn't exactly fun but she found herself enjoying it, just as much as she did in her college days when it seemed like the best way to destress from exams and study sessions. For that being more than 20 years ago, she was glad it had the same effect as it did now - just with being in the same town as her ex and grant deadlines being the reason she needed it in the first place. She was a little bit too in the zone, the sound of her sneakers hitting the pavement and the thrumming of an 80s throwback playlist being the only things she could hear. The low rumble of thunder didn't register in her ears until a steady rain was pouring down on the messy bun she'd wrangled her gray hair into, and she pulled her airpods out of her ears to survey the mostly empty park around her. Apparently, everyone else checked the weather that afternoon. "Fuck," She mumbled out loud to nobody in particular. She picked up her pace until she noticed a covered gazebo, and needing to get out of the rain, she ducked underneath, shivering slightly as the wind picked up around her temporary shelter. It wasn't until she caught her breath that she realized she wasn't exactly alone, and she jumped slightly as she realized the other person taking up space. "Damn it. You scared the crap out of me." She chuckled slightly, willing her heartbeat to slow as another bang of thunder sounded outside.

[khaleesiofalicante]

THE GAY SHENANIGANS CONTINUE

First of all, how are you??? I've been busy with projects and my final exams that start next week, and I've felt a little anxious and down these weeks, so I'm so looking forward for these two weeks to be over

Also, I've lately been rereading IALS whenever I'm feeling bad and it always makes me cheer up, so idk what that says about me...

But let me tell you!!!! So, we share facilities with another school, right? But they use them in the evenings. Idk if this is common for other countries, but it's really common here

Well, idk what they do or study, but a group of them have been staging a play, and my friends and I have seen a few rehearsals bc they also practice in the morning. It's a musical from what we've gathered, and it's also kind of... ehm, sensual, you could say lol (idk how they managed to convince our directors bc they are so fucking horrible, but good for them)

Thing is, Sarah and I know one guy from there, so last Friday we were there watching them rehearse, and he waved at us to come sit as an audience because they had prepared chairs and everything. We obviously agreed, and went to sit thinking we were just going to sit and watch from a better angle what they did...

Buuut, we didn't know how the play started, so we didn't know the actors had to get closer and closer to the audience until there were just inches of space... And we didn't know they had to just stand and stare at you to make you nervous... And we didn't know they couldn't talk and could just rarely give the smallest smirk... And that they had to look at you in a more flirty way, before the music started and they began to dance...

So you can imagine it took us by surprise😂. The actors started to get closer and Sarah, as the sunshine she is, was just making conversation with them like "you have beautiful eyes" "oh, your eyes are really pretty too!" "Hi! How are you?"

And I, as the bisexual mess that I am, was just furiously blushing and laughing nervously jshdjdkdksks

And there was this one reaaaally pretty girl that came closer and stared at me. There were just INCHES between us and my laughter died and I just nervously swallowed but she just gave the smallest smirk and looked down on my hands, so I looked down too and she traced my hands with her fingers, looked up again and just slowly walked away...

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN MY GAY AWAKENING IF I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS BI ALREADY LMAOO

So yeah. I don't know how I ever thought I was straight😂😂😂

Me 🤝 You - reading IALS to feel better lol.

I'm good! The month from hell is over and now I have better control of my work hours and projects (for now lmaooo). Most of my projects are winding down so I'm looking for new exciting projects so hopefully, i will find something I like ;)

and omg you got roped into an immersive play - those are my worst nightmare sdkjnfks. it ain't for the introverts - and the gays lol. but i am glad you had fun 🫢

also every ask you send me is basically 'how did i ever think i was straight OR everyone else knew i was gay but me' and i love this theme let's keep going.

hope the exams are going well and you are taking good care of yourself bebe ♥️

[aztrareia]

[hiatus]

I think it’s the lactose intolerance talking, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need this art break.

So, hear me out, or don’t, the announcement is already up there in concisely one word.

[optional read below]

I started this school break with my [Wounded] series. And this was a whole mini series that I’ve taken from real-life “wounds”

Semi-permanent was taken from the times that I fell sick during school days. I’ve been very busy trying to keep up with studying, paired with the fact that I didn’t really know when or how to moderate myself in such a way that I was still able to balance rest and work. And it turns out, I couldn’t do that—and so for multiple times the past semester I fell very ill on the weeks before exams. Which sucked, but I guess, it was my body finally taking that break for me. Worst timing, btw. But it happened. I survived just fine, thankfully. Part of semi-permanent’s idea fuel was th fact I was still on that transition stage with trying to adjust to new environments—new place, new people, new ways of trying to get along with strangers in my general vicinity—moving homes twice—getting into a knee-injury accident thing while going down the stairs. This art piece had the premise that maybe some wounds are just that—“semi-permanent.”

Medic is an artpiece where I sort of emotionally face this thing called a “heartache.” I’ve forgotten over what heartache it is, but it held the idea that stuff like that—healing broken hearts—is a thing you have to do by yourself. It’s something that I feel is unfair to pass on to others, tasking them to helping you heal something that is exclusively yours. I don’t want to elaborate on the specific type of heartache—just know that it is yours to fill by yourself. That is what I believe in, and you are definitely free to refute that.

Mihael a (I’m not looking up the stylized fonts have mercy) is a play on my actual irl name. And yes, you are correct if you are thinking of a certain figure that’s very well known in religious literature. Simply explained, it’s an artpiece with the premise of facing those “demons” that live in our thoughts—the digital sword is a funny part of the piece I added at the last minute, but it fits well with the reference, no?

I won’t add too much of the photos since they are already here and posted, and this thing has been quite long already. But I am proud that in this past weeks alone, I was able to create I think, 10 works, 2 of them are wips, 1 of them might not see the day because I couldn’t for the life of me, feel confident with the art style I currently had, to justify, or at least be on par with other works—don’t do this btw. It’s just a personal thing for me that I wasn’t able to gather up that confidence to pick it up again and actually work on it. The photo above is that one art I made for 11.11. She was fun to work on. That’s all I will say about it.

This post is already long and winded and I’m surprised if you read this through (and thank you, if you did!). But as the title said, I’d like to take this time, coming up to the holiday season, to rest. I feel as though I’ve placed immense pressure on my skills (and that’s on me!) without really looking at what I was actually able to accomplish thus far. I hope to spend the remaining time until second semester begins next year, on things that don’t demand too much of my emotional and mental batteries. Doing something fun and specifically for myself that I don’t feel the need to document—and really just hoping for the times I get to touch grass so I can explore more of the new environment I’m living in. For the first time after a long time, I get to experience a Christmas holiday that is not just me and my single parental figure, and I look forward to that as well.

Be good to yourselves, I’ll be back with more long winded texts because I am still a talkative little shit with a keyboard I’m having fun using.