#THIS IS THE END OF THE MATCHING RED SOCKS SERIES....

[naturecalls111]

[callmelola111]

color me purple ♡ part one

 ✄ - - - -   part 1 , part 2 , part 3   - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡

synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics. 

      | 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.3k

      | ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some fluff + some angst (for now), marijuana use, pet names (doll, princess, hun), light sexual themes, swearing, mentions of blood (reader gets bloody nose), mentions of age (reader and ellie are both said to be 20 but feel free to change it in ur head lol)

a/n: feeling so summer lately i just had to write this. living vicariously through reader cause like why tf am i not having a summer camp gay awakening. this series is just 3 parts but it is sweet as pie so pls enjoy!!! i love you all dearly ♡~ lola

The blinding sun beamed down on your bare skin. Normally the sweltering heat would bother you more, but the excitement of your first day back at camp was more than enough to distract you from the outlandish temperatures. You barreled down the grassy hill, duffle bag in hand, revealing the large wooden arch that spelled out the words CAMP STILLWATER.

The grounds were bustling with counselors and caretakers preparing for the arrival of campers later that evening. Everyone was dressed in color coded garments that signaled what cabin group they belonged to. You were dressed in red, head of cabin 12. Your sheer, white ringer tee read “Staff” and was hemmed with strips of crimson. To match, a pair of red booty shorts with white stretching down the sides. They were just long enough to cover your plush cheeks until naturally riding up as you walked to reveal the crease where ass meets thigh. To top it off, knee high socks striped with the same exact red. You were fucking adorable.

Nature crunched under your sneakers as you practically skipped down the trail headlining it to your cabin. As you reached the steps a very familiar voice called out your name.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. Cabin neighbors, once again. Did ya miss me doll?”

“Ellie fucking Williams, don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been praying all week that I wouldn’t get stuck with your dumbass again. But, here we are.” You rolled your eyes in a dramatic fashion putting an emphasis on your obvious sarcasm. This would be your 3rd summer bunking next door to your biggest rival Ellie Williams.

Although you and Ellie weren’t truly enemies, she did get on your nerves, and you got on hers. This fed into a mutual sarcastic bit that you guys have continued to carry out for years. You’d think by 20 years old the two of you would’ve grown out of these childish antics, but it was secretly one of your favorite parts of the summer. 

Ellie gave a half-assed chuckle, “you can never escape me.”

“Oh yes I can!” You whipped your head around, excusing yourself from the conversation and climbed up the weathered steps of your cabin. Ellie gawked as she watched you depart, your thighs giggling with each step. Her piercing green eyes always found their way to your body, but only when she thought you wouldn’t notice.

You entered the barren room and didn't even take the time to unpack before you started adorning the walls with themed decor and tying red ribbons in your hair. Cabin 12 always thrived with spirit when you were there. You took your role as camp counselor seriously and took the competitiveness even more seriously.

Camp Stillwater ran on a point system, and at the end of the summer the cabin with the most wins a trophy. The girls from your cabin were always finishing first in the tournament games, but when they didn’t, it was Ellie’s stupid blue campers who were swooping in to steal the victory. It drove you crazy. Last summer you came second to her and you were determined to never let it happen again. You began speaking to the empty room as if trying to somehow manifest these dreams into reality.

“This year cabin 12 will finish the summer with the most points.”

“Talking to yourself again?” You jumped at the sound of Ellie, not noticing that she had been lurking in the doorway. She was only there for a moment, but didn’t feel like announcing herself, too busy enjoying you running around like an excited puppy, spouting off about victory. Ellie had always admired your high spirits and go-getter attitude. A ray of light emitted from you constantly and she loved to bask in its glory. But, of course, she’d never let it be known.

“God Ellie you can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry princess but the warden wants everyone at the mess hall like now. Come on slacker!” You noticed the change of clothes on Ellie, she was now adorned in a T-shirt just like yours but with blue details rather than red. Her auburn hair was pulled into a messy half-up, half-down, she always wore it like that when it started getting hot.

“Shut up, I'm not a slacker!! I’m just busy going above and beyond for my campers.” you argued, a pout forming on your lips. Ellie always knew how to press your buttons.

“You really wanna win this year huh?” She moved into your space, tilting her head with a cocky smirk. 

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“And you really think I’m gonna let that happen?” she teased.

“You’re so annoying Ellie. You can do whatever you want, but I will be winning” You jutted your head forward dramatically in an attempt at intimidation. Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Right… let’s just get going before we’re late and they don’t let you counsel at all” Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled, urging you to follow. Feeling her warm, calloused hand in yours, you almost didn’t want to let go. But, you did.

The mess hall was lined with strings of wooden picnic tables, all connecting to create a sense of community when it was filled with campers. Flags cascaded the walls, each a different color with a number, representing the teams. A large case expanded across the back wall, filled with trophies from years before. The corners of your mouth upturned with anticipation of the summer to come. Your thoughts were soon interrupted by an amplified voice booming from a megaphone. Holding said megaphone was the warden, Mrs. Campbell.

“Alright ladies! Tonight is the night! You all know what to do so go ahead and file out to find your campers!!” You and Ellie exited out the back of the building, heading to the camp entrance. A swarm of girls’ chatting and screams grew louder as staff united with them. One of your favorite parts about Camp Stillwater was the lack of boys. You felt safe, and you loved the idea of getting to empower all these young impressionable women.

You held up a sign signaling your cabin number and a single file line began forming in front of you. You handed each of your girls red ribbons (matching the ones in your own hair) as a personal touch, trying to foster a bond right from the start. Meanwhile, Ellie stood around for her campers dapping them up, giving off the perfect “chill counselor” vibe. You found the lack of discipline a little obnoxious but to each their own. 

That night Stillwater kicked off camp with a bonfire complete with goodies for smores. You sat, knees together on the rough log, feeling as it left imprints of the bark on your bare thighs. Ellie sat just one log over goofing off with some other staff members, shooting an occasional glance at you.

The plastic bag of graham crackers crinkled as you ripped it open to begin assembling your late night snack. The hot air had turned cool with the lack of sun, but the preceding heat lingered in the melted chocolate you attempted to pass out. You stared as the sticky mallow and sweet liquid coco coated your fingers, inviting golden crumbs to join in. Ellie observed you deciding how to handle the mess, and with just a few seconds of thought, watched you stick your sugary soaked fingers straight in your mouth. A surge of guilt hit Ellie, noticing how much your licking troubled her. She clenched her thighs together and decided sweets just weren't for her.

With your hunger satisfied, the bonfire burned bright and you droned off getting lost in the flicker of the flames. Just then, you see a familiar Ellie in your peripherals wandering to the woods. Curious, you peeled your sticky legs from where you sat and got up to follow. You trailed behind her struggling to conceal your presence due to the snapping twigs under your feet. Ellie snaked her body back to acknowledge you and your obviousness. She loved to tease.

“Stalker much?” 

“God, you wish I was stalking you, Williams.” 

“So why are you following me then? Trying to catch me breakin’ the rules?” she questioned, half joking, half not. Continuing your follow, the two of you reached a more secluded part of the forest and Ellie halted.

“If you don’t want me to catch you, then maybe you should stop breaking rules. Ever think of that?” you taunted.

“Whatever Nancy Drew.” And with that, Ellie reached into her pocket pulling out a freshly rolled joint.

“You gonna bust me?” she teased before you quickly slapped the drugs out of her hands and into the moist dirt below.

“ELLIE!!!” you scolded her like she was a camper.

“Hey what the hell dude?!” she reached down to retrieve the now dirty joint and began to light it. A panicked look washed over your face and your eyes darted around, surveying for any possible company. God forbid you let this girl get you in trouble.

“I should be saying what the hell to you! Smoking on the job? So much for setting a good example… God, Ellie!” You palmed your face not sure how to proceed. In spite of your make believe beef, Ellie was your friend and you didn’t want to tattle. On the other hand though, the goodie two shoes and competitive freak inside wanted so badly to expose Ellie's naughty behavior. With her out of the picture, you could finish this summer out with a win. But, if you were being honest with yourself, camp wouldn’t be the same without her.

“Sorry, sorry. I know” Ellie shook her head at the ground pretending to be ashamed but she couldn’t have cared less. She knew you’d never tell, so on she went with her scheming.

“You wanna hit though?” 

“Ellie!!” This time you gave a blow to her exposed bicep, really trying to lay the guilt on thick.

“Come onnnn. This is your 3rd year here, you’ve gotta loosen up at some point. Just one hit? Please, for me?” Ellie flashed you the most annoying puppy dog eyes and a devilish smirk already anticipating your answer. Growing up you found it easy to resist peer pressure, you’ve always thought of yourself as a rule follower, but when it came to Ellie she always knew what to say to push you to the edge. She was such an instigator and you fell for her act every damn time.

“Fine… one hit.” She practically shoved the weed in your hands in excitement as you reluctantly gave in. Ellie always had so much fun chipping away at that good girl exterior you worked so hard to uphold. You then took a slow drag and passed it back to her. You fixated on her wet lips as they placed themselves around the joint. She took a quick inhale before an amused look spread across her face.

“Cherry?” Already feeling the high, you gave Ellie a puzzled look, not understanding what she meant. 

“Your lipgloss hun” She gestured to the pink stain rimming the tip of the joint.

Your face flushed red, “shit sorry.” You dug your foot into the ground and gave your lips a lick, recalling the fruity flavor.

“S’all good, I liked the taste” She replied, making your face turn a shade redder, almost matching the shorts that hugged your curves. Ellie would remember this moment, the taste of your lipgloss felt like a brush with destiny. Already assimilating the flavor to memory, she imagined her lips on yours and that cherry taste lingering in an exchange of saliva. God Ellie!! Stop being a perv and shut the fuck up!!

As one of the few masculine girls at camp, she was practically drowning in women, but her fixation with you prevented anything past a casual hook up. And casual hook up she did- with at least a fourth of the staff. Understandably, things got desperate being stuck at camp for 2 months straight. It’s not like you had the privacy to rub one out while sleeping in a room full of occupied bunk beds. But, with Ellie being a known player, you personally hadn’t thought twice about getting involved, despite the occasional butterflies. Bullying each other was more fun anyways.

Finally, Ellie finally finished off the joint, letting you take a couple more hits in between hers. She stomped the roach out into the moist ground making sure to put out any remaining embers. Her long stride pointed in the direction of the light filled cabins before you stopped her. With weed now rampant in your system, you weren’t ready for the night to end. 

“Waitttt, stopppp, we can’t go nowww!” You grabbed Ellie’s wrist leading her back into the darkness, straight towards the lake.

“What? You wanna hangout with me all of the sudden?”

“I- I wanna swim…” you mumbled, almost afraid to hear it come out of your mouth. One of the most important rules at Camp Stillwater was no swimming after dark. Ellie almost gasped hearing you propose such a mischievous idea. 

“Rulebreaker! Rulebreaker!” she chanted, almost falling over with laughter. Inside though, Ellie was kicking her feet at the thought of having a late night swim with her favorite girl. 

“Come on Els, you’re the one who told me to live a little. Pleaseeee!!” You bat your long lashes like a cartoon character but there was no need to beg as Ellie was already on board. She loved corrupting you.

“I’ll race you!!” She shouted before dashing through the trees, kicking up dirt with each long stride. Of course she turned it into a competition, and you bolted right after her trying to catch up.

Neither of you even stopped to breathe as you reached the edge of the lake. Instead shirts, shorts, and shoes all flying off your bodies landing amongst the greenery, desperate to get your sweaty bodies into the cool, evening waters. As you dived in, a sense of euphoria washed over your body along with the deep blue ripples of H2O. Ellie’s head rose out of the water 2nd. She slicked her wet hair back and gave you a toothy smile that was to die for. You giggled at the sight, everything seeming a bit more silly while under the influence. 

“Having fun princess?” she questioned, cheeks full.

“Yeah I am,” you smiled back, “I don’t think the fact that I’m breaking like 5 different rules has hit me yet.”

“Enough with the rules, let's have fun!” Ellie dove back into the water circling around your smooth legs. She took ur skin between her pointer and thumb, giving you little pinches like some sort of sea creature. You kicked and squirmed in reaction causing Ellie to shoot back up from her underwater adventure.

“Fuck off!” you shoved her bare shoulder with a teasing force. She put her hands up surrendering to your irritation. Her veiny arms glistened with lake water and your eyes wandered before getting stuck on the large tattoo adorning her forearm.

“Hey, that wasn’t there last summer.” you gestured to her.

“Yeah, uh, I got it a few months ago”

“It looks good,” you paused, “can I touch?” Ellie offered out her inked limb to you. It rested in your left hand and you used your right to trace the linework. Water droplets collected with each gentle brush of your fingertips. Goosebumps followed your delicate touch and Ellie's face turned red with enjoyment. 

“S’pretty” you said, noticing a blush growing across your own face. You glanced off into the distance at the silence. The thick forest trees and bright stars urged you to take in a deep, pollution free inhale. Ellie broke the moment of zen to speak.

“Turn around.” she demanded. You obliged immediately despite her unknown intentions. You felt her hot breath on your neck and sudden skin-to-skin contact. She hooked her long fingers around your wet locks of hair, moving them across your back to one side. A chill radiated down your spine

“What are you doing Ellie?” you whispered. The closeness you shared and the now still lake, cloaked with haze, sent a hush over the both of you. 

“Guess what I’m drawing” she whispered back. You scrunched up your shoulders in response to her vibrations hitting at your pulse. The feeling of her rough fingers met your back and began tracing symbols. You attempted to focus on her movements but it proved hard to decipher the message when she felt so close. Despite knowing Ellie for a long time, the two of you had never had this much prolonged touch. It ignited a feeling that you weren’t sure how to get control of. The silence hinted at your cluelessness.

“Here I’ll do it again,” she said, drawing out "I ♡ U” once more across your back.

“Fuck, I dont know. A dick?” You turned back to face Ellie questioning her with a giggle. Her face was littered with disappointment before quickly concealing it from you with a big splash of water. The tender moment was lost. She went along with your answer, lying through her teeth. 

“Fine, you got me freak! It was a dick.” You splashed Ellie back harder, amused by her childish humor. The water slinging continued until you both became absolutely winded and ready to climb in bed. Oh fuck, bed...

“ELLIE, OH MY GOD, CURFEW!” you practically squealed before switching to breaststroke and heading towards land. Ellie snapped out of this little dream and followed after you.

You frantically threw on your clothes over your now soaked bra and panties. Wet spots began seeping through your shorts as you fiddled with your sneakers. Your wet feet swirled in the dirt below, caking them with the mud of your making. You vetoed the shoes and bolted towards the cabins completely barefoot. You were so focused on getting back that you hardly even noticed the branches and rocks assaulting your skin.

“FUCK WAIT UP!!” Ellie yelled, just feet behind you. As you looked back to acknowledge her request your ankle caught on a huge log that littered the forest's path. Your balance was thrown and your face went plummeting straight into the ground, hitting a dull rock on its way down. Ellie’s pace doubled as she jumped to your rescue. She fell to her knees by your side giving you support as you lifted yourself up. Looking down, your hands were dirty, stuck wood chips pressed into the skin. You dusted them off against each other, seemingly fine.

“Bro, oh my god, are you okay??” Ellie pestered, worried out of her mind. 

“I think, yeah. It was honestly more embarrassing than painful.” you gave a light chuckle before looking up from the ground when suddenly a gush of liquid escaped your nose. Your finger dipped into the steady flow and you took note of the deep red now covering them.

“Just great.” you rolled your eyes. Ellie had the most concerned look on her face despite your injury being a simple bloody nose.

“We’ve gotta get you to the nurse like now!”

“Ellie chill, I’d rather not have an encounter with authority while I'm high as fuck and out past curfew.” You never thought you'd be saying that sentence.

“Fine, at least take this.” Ellie handed you a crumpled up tissue she had retrieved from her athletic shorts and you shoved it up your nose halting the flow.

Returning to the main area of the campgrounds felt like a walk of shame. You were drenched, muddy, and decorated in your own blood, and Ellie looked just as bad. Eventually the two of you reached your neighboring cabins and there waiting in between the steps of 11 and 12 was Warden Campbell. Fuck.

 ✄ - - - -   part 1 , part 2 , part 3   - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

[alchemistc]

goon | bucktommy

THE HOCKEY AU HAS A PROLOGUE

read on ao3

Tommy Kinard is hanging up his skates at the end of the season. It's time. He's ready to move on with his life. He's ready to give his knees a fucking break. The trade to the odds on favorite to win the damn thing this year is just another in a series of trades throughout his career that makes sense - he's there to allow a winning team to unload cap space, he'll get a couple minutes a night in the ramp up to playoffs, he'll retire without fanfare once the season is over. Coach Nash has other plans for him, and the team he's been traded to think he's the bees fucking knees. He's just trying to get through the rest of this season without dragging Evan Buckley into a closet and kissing him breathless.

Tommy’s a little out of breath. That’s to be expected, really — he’s been in town for a day and a half and there’s nothing quite like a practice at elevation with the fastest team in the league to cut his teeth on.

Hen eyes him up as he skates over to the bench to grab at a water bottle. She’s trying to her damndest to hide an amused grin, and failing miserably. “We keep oxygen tanks in medical,” she observes, a little sing-songy, and Tommy doesn’t bother to hide his rolling eyes or the tic in his jaw.

“I’m fine.”

Her face tells him everything he needs to know about how breathless that had sounded.

It’d been nice, finding a familiar face in the crowd after spending twenty minutes getting a tour of the practice facilities from the kid most of the league viewed with a kind of hushed reverence, save for the few who'd lived with the star power long enough to get used to it.

Tommy rarely got star-struck, anymore, but he hadn’t actually expected this years likely Hart recipient to be the first teammate to make contact; to swing by the hotel room to pick him up for practice when Tommy admitted he didn’t even have a rental yet, and he’d likely have to Uber; to walk him through and introduce him as teammates trickled in; to warn him ahead of time that eagle-eyed fans in the stands would definitely notice if his tape didn’t match the white socks still in their packaging laid out on the bottom shelf of the locker where they’d already printed off a name-card for him (”Here, I have an extra roll.”); to grin and shake his head a little when Tommy questioned exactly how many fans were likely to come to a weekday practice at the tail end of January.

Eight years out from the last time he’d seen Henrietta Wilson, calling out a red-faced AHL coach for throwing a kid back out on the ice with clear signs of a concussion, and she’s still not entertaining bullshit. “Okay, my conditioning could use some work.”

Eyebrow up over the rim of her glasses, she grabs for the water bottle and replaces it with a juicebox. Easiest ad placement since Gatorade made a name for themselves in dugouts and on sidelines, but Tommy’s got to admit it’s nice to have this shit so readily available. When he’d first been starting out, drinking anything but water (and maybe a beer between periods) had been considered pansy ass shit. “You’ll get used to the altitude. Not sure you’ll ever catch up to the pace.”

Tommy has no doubt. He hasn’t played against this specific configuration of this team, but they’ve been well known for their breakneck speed for years. He’s not an ungraceful man, but today he’s felt a bit like a baby giraffe trying to keep up with a pack of antelope, lumbering around with limbs that just won’t cooperate (and are probably gonna fucking cramp up the moment he stops moving) and lungs that aren’t taking in enough air to manage the bursts of speed these guys are executing like a light jog on a breezy spring day.

Tommy downs the electrolyte drink and takes a deep breath through his nose. “Why the fuck am I here, Hen?”

She purses her lips, tips her chin out in the general direction of where a few guys are still taking drills even as practice winds down. “Because these idiots are convinced they’re invincible, and no one has the heart to tell them talking shit to Trouba again is gonna end with one of them on a stretcher.”

Which — he’d known, in the abstract. Having an enforcer riding the bench for fifty plus minutes a night was an old school way of handling a small-light-fast team with just enough shit-talkers and star players to draw attention. Unexpected, in the current layout of the league, but not completely unbelievable. The GM had been a little shifty, yesterday, essentially reciting the same line as Hen but dressing it up in a whole lot of fancy front-office speak Tommy’s never really had the time for. He’s barely had a chance to talk to Nash, yet, but he’s sure he’ll hear echoes of it from his new head coach, too.

Tommy watches Diaz and Buckley taking turns blocking whiffle balls in front of the net; Chimney still taking drills at the net with their EBUG — McKinley had introduced him and wandered off to lace up his skates (”You can call me Nozzle,” the guy had told him, torso looking tiny in just his leg pads without his shell, too-long hair and that manic gleam in his eye that only goalies ever truly had, while Tommy listened to him talk about his plumbing apprenticeship and his daughter who loved hockey as much as her dad but wanted to be, of all things, a defenseman.); Greenway and Kinnunen taking shots from the circle getting increasingly more frustrated the longer Chim and Nozzle swapping in and out changes nothing about their ability to sneak the puck in five-hole.

There’s a palpable energy to this group. Something stirring in the air — between the single-minded focus of their stars, and the attentive way their third and fourth lines are still all out here after Nash had gathered them all in for an end-of-practice huddle, Tommy can feel the anticipation of more. More wins, more lessons, more conditioning, anything that will get this team past the second round with an eye toward the Cup. It’s been years since he’s been on a team with this much fucking focus.

Tommy eyes the fans still slowly trickling out from the bleachers — knows through word of mouth they’re likely gonna be sitting outside the parking lot waiting to see who’s gonna shift into park and lean out a window to sign some shit, talk to people for a minute or two. Kinda hopes McKinley’s still down to drive him back to his hotel so that he can watch some kid go feral when McKinley rolls down his window to greet him.

Well shit. If he’s gonna buy in, he might as well get a head start.

He turns back to Hen.

“Bunting never even got fined for that boarding call against Pannikar last year, did he?”

Hen grins. “No headshots, please.”

[xoxo-sarah]

I Wanna Be Yours || Part 16

Part 15 | Series Masterlist

↝a/n: The final part is here! Let me know if y'all wanna drabbles on these two. 🩷

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Wheeler!reader

↝ Warning: not proofread, possible spoilers, cannon events, angst that ends in fluff, Eddie's canon death, sad Dustin, Vecna, the aftermath of everything, getting caught, supportive Karen because I said so

↝⎙ 9.18.24

Your body dropped with a thud. You began coughing, clawing at your sore throat. The tentacles slithered away.

Eyes finally focusing, you looked up, at Nancy, at Steve, at Robin.

“I don't believe in a higher power,” Robin croaked, her throat sore as well, “- or divine intervention. But that was a miracle.”

Nancy stood, turning around, “I think we better not waste it.” She cocked her gun. You grabbed the hatchet that fell out of your grasp, gripping it with infuriated intention.

“Phase four.” Steve quipped, “Flambé.”

You brought the lighter to the cloth hanging out of the top of the bottle of kerosene, watching as Steve threw it.

Vecna screamed, catching on fire. He withered, falling down from the web of tentacles and vines he had been held up by. He looked up, right at the four of you. You could hear his flesh sizzle.

You lit up another bottle, still staring at him. You threw it.

He staggered back.

Nancy walked forward, gun up and ready to shoot.

Shells clanked against the wooden floor.

Bullet after bullet were shot at Vecna. One final shot had him staggering back, out of the window, letting out a howl of anger.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You ran down the creaky stairs, watching where you were stepping, and out of the front door. “Fuck!” Your voice echoed.

Vecna was nowhere to be seen. Where he had fallen, there was scorched ground and little spots of fire. “Goddamn it.” You ran your palms down your face in frustration.

A clock chimed from inside the house.

Four chimes.

“Four chimes,” Nancy whispered, “Max.”

The ground rumbled again. You let your body fall, too exhausted physically and emotionally to fight against it. The ground divided, admitting a bright red.

-Two days later-

Survivor's guilt ate at you. But people made it better. Robin made it better. She distracted you from the gnawing feeling of obligation. You felt obligated to bring Max flowers ever other day. You felt obligated to take your childhood toys and clothes to help with people who had been impacted by the earthquake in Hawkins. You felt obligated to let Eddie rest in peace as much as you could. There's only so much you can do when everyone is making him out to be evil.

Robin helped distract you, as you tried to do the same.

-flashback-

You stumbled back toward the trailer park, mind elsewhere. You stopped your movement when you saw Dustin.

He sat in front of Eddie's trailer, knees held up to his chest, body shaking. “Dustin?” You walked faster, dropping the hatched beside him. He flinched when you touched his shoulder.

“Dustin-hey. Wh-where's Eddie?” Steve came up behind you, kneeling in front of the boy.

Dustin sobbed harder, hiding his face deeper into his knees. Your bottom lip wobbled, eyes burning.

Eddie was gone. Max was gone.

-----

“How long?”

“Hm?” You hummed, fingers slowly dragging against her stomach.

She shivered before continuing, “How long have you liked me?”

“An embarrassingly long time.” You huffed.

She smiled at your words, beginning to play with your hair.

“Around Sophomore year.”

“Oh, god.” Her hand dropped your hair, moving to cover her face. “That was my worst year. Why that year?!”

You sat up, looking at her from a better angle, you couldn't help but find her embarrassment so amusing. “You were adorable. Stop it.” You moved her hands away from her face, seeing her whole face beat red.

She sighed, “I was struggling that year.”

“I think we all were.” You chuckled, playing with the elastic bottom of her bra. The fashion trends weren't the best that year-for anyone.

“I used to wear these long socks-Oh my God! They never matched. I'd show them off like I was making a fashion statement.”

“Yeah, they were pretty bad.” You smiled as she slung her head back into the pillow. They were indeed pretty bad. But you weren't focusing on her socks that year. You were focusing on your new feelings.

“How could you ever find that cute?”

“I could hear you across the room when you'd talk to your friends. You would get so excited when something you enjoyed came up in the conversation. It was adorable.” You smiled fondly at the memory.

Robin wore a small smile on her own face, reminiscing on sophomore year-not her horrific choices in clothing- but the good memories with her friends.

She had seen you too. In the halls, in classrooms. Everywhere.

She tried not to think of you, keeping school on her mind. But you always seemed to slither into her thoughts. She eventually became shy around you, which was unlike her. She was usually outgoing, at least in classes where she had her friends to talk to.

Then, she started working at the mall with Steve, and you would come in a lot. You had gotten closer with both of them that year, despite the tension between Steve and your sister. Steve had made it his mission to make you understand that he had changed from “King Steve”. It took a lot of convincing on his part, and a lot of free ice-cream. Nancy eventually got over it, so you did too. Steve had changed, all of you had.

Robin ducked her head, kissing beside your lips. She stayed there for a moment, basking in you, before she smiled.

It felt good to feel her smile against you.

After everything you've been through these last few days, you would do anything to have her smiling against you for the rest of your lives.

“Y/n-”

Before you could move, the door was open and someone stood in the frame, frozen. You jumped apart from each other, Robin moving to cover her bra-clad upper half.

“Mrs. Wheeler-” Robin tried to explain, not really knowing what to say to make the situation better.

“I made breakfast,” Your mom said after an awkward moment of silence, and smiled at you, then, turned to the blushing mess of a girl. “I hope you can join us.”

As soon as she closed the door, Robin fell back on the bed, huffing and using the sheet to cover her face now. “What was that?!” She croaked. Her face hadn't lost any of its pink hue. If anything, it became darker, spreading to her ears and down her neck.

You grinned, pulling the sheet away from her face, "At least you don't have to jump out of the window now. And you get food."

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[avatar-anna]

first time harry sees prof all dolled up maybe for a fancy date or something and is just lost for words. and then maybe prof gets a little hurt that he doesn't find her natural self that attractive but he explains that he was shocked?

First Date Jitters

The Professor Series

this takes place right after the series ends (after part V)!

*.*

Standing in front of the mirror of your Manhattan apartment, you weren't quite sure if you were satisfied with the reflection staring back at you.

"What do you think, Trajan?" you asked, looking over at your cat, who just stared back with a bored expression. Narrowing your eyes at the Emperor, you said, "I'll remember your lack of support in this moment, you know."

The cat just continued with his cool indifference, clearly not worried about your potential grudge. When you determined that your conversation with your cat was just toeing the line of insanity, you turned back to the mirror and sighed.

Objectively, you would say you looked fine. Your dress nipped your waist just so, and you liked the way the red string tieing the bodice contrasted the sweetness of the garment's pattern. It was sweet and romantic, but there was something mature about it too that couldn't be ignored.

The dress was fine, and the socks with the ruffled ankles matched perfectly, so that was a plus, but as you looked yourself over for the twenty-seventh time, you couldn't help but feel like your reflection was an imposter.

You'd had the dress for a few months now. It had called out to you on a rare shopping trip in SoHo, and you bought it on impulse. It hadn't left your closet since, but when Harry left your apartment the morning after you reconnected and said he wanted to take you on a proper date, you knew it was the perfect dress.

You watched mirror-you's frown deepen as you remained flummoxed by the situation at hand. You didn't think you looked bad, but something was just...

"Missing. It's missing something."

Style and fashion weren't things you didn't pay much attention to. You had a particular style that made you comfortable, a small circle of interesting but not out-there that you thought matched your personality quite nicely. You had your comfy sweaters with cute patterns, your corduroy pants and mismatched socks and the clips and headbands and colorful scrunchies you used to keep your hair out of your face so you weren't constantly annoyed by it.

But the dress just seemed out of place in all of that. You liked it enough not to take it off, but you needed something else to make it feel like it was actually you wearing the dress, not the other way around.

Not enough color, you soon realized. There was a pop of red from the laces, but other than that, you were just wearing white, something you rarely ever wore. You liked color, and decided that if you were going to confidently wear this dress, it needed a little more whimsy.

You rummaged through your things—shoes, shoelaces, earrings, colorful eyeshadow shades—searching for just the right element. It took about three minutes, but when you found a forgotten jewelry box stashed under some old files, you remembered what lay within.

In seconds, you were fastening the necklaces around your neck, knowing that Harry would arrive at your apartment any minute. As you struggled with the clasp, your mind flashed to all the times Harry had shown up on your doorstep in Cambridge, ready to talk about just about anything with you.

Things were so much easier then, you recalled. You never second-guessed your attire, never once wondered if Harry would notice that your shoelaces didn't match, or find your sweater with dancing mushrooms on it bizarre, or question the strand of beads that held your glasses like a necklace. Even now, you knew Harry wouldn't mind if you were dressed up or down, and yet you found yourself fretting over your appearance tonight anyway.

As you layered the last of your necklaces, a mix of colorful beads and stones with a gold heart-shaped locket at its center, you heard a knock on your door. "Shoot," you muttered, fingers slipping now that your nerves were kicking into full gear. Pausing your battle against the tiny brass clasp, you left your room to get the door, words tumbling out of your mouth before Harry could even make a sound.

"I'm not ready yet, I'm sorry. I got so caught up in going over the conversation topics I picked out that I forgot I actually had to physically get ready for tonight, which took much longer than it should have, and now I can't get this infernal necklace to clasp because my hands won't stop sweating, and every time I think about you or tonight my mind quite literally stops working for a minute and I forget what I'm doing. And all of that is to say that I'm not ready. Yet. I'm not ready yet."

Harry blinked as he processed everything you'd just said, and your face flushed because, really, did you have to reveal how nervous you were the nanosecond you opened the door?

"That...was all in one breath," he finally said. "I'm impressed."

Your whole face felt like it was on fire, but even though it had been a year since you'd spoken, you could tell that Harry wasn't teasing. He really was impressed.

"Do you mind helping me? With—With the necklace? I don't think I'll be able to get it, and it'll probably be easier if you just—Edward?"

Shoot, you thought. You hadn't meant to call him that. "Harry, I mean. Sorry. I don't know why I said that."

Even after messing up and correcting yourself, you still hadn't managed to garner his attention. Well, you had, he just wasn't looking at your face.

Harry's gaze was thorough as he took you in, his eyes lingering on your hips, then your chest, which was tastefully on display due to the cut of your dress. You felt his stare, almost as intensely as if he was actually touching you, though you knew that was quite literally impossible. But you still felt it, your stomach flipping around giddily as his gaze became heavy-lidded.

"Am I...dressed appropriately?" you couldn't help but ask, which seemed to get Harry's attention.

"Huh?"

"You never actually said what we'd be doing, and I read this article about the top nine date activities, and going to a restaurant was number one. Nine and ten were bike rides and amusement parks, but I took my chances. Hedged my bets, if you will."

God, did you sound like this all the time? You told yourself that you were rambling more than usual because of the added stress of going on your first-ever date with Harry and told yourself you would stop once you crossed the threshold of your door and officially started your date. But one quick look at Harry's tousled curls pushed to one side and the cozy sweater that made him look adorable and sexy—a winning combination if there ever was one—you knew you'd be tongue-tied for a while.

"You're perfect."

Your eyes widened, surprise and delight taking over your entire body. Smiling, you offered him a quiet thank you before asking him to clasp your necklace again, turning around before he could see the blush on your cheeks.

Harry's fingers were delicate as he draped the necklace over your collarbones and fastened the clasp into place. You could feel his shallow breaths on the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps on your skin and making your toes curl. You know you and Harry agreed on a proper date, which meant, you actually had to go on said date and not just skip to the end. But as the pads of his fingers began to glide across the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your arm, his lips puckering against the rapid beating of your pulse point, you wondered if you could just skip all that.

His hands came around your waist and felt along the front of your dress and squeezing appreciatively where he pleased. It made you feel molten inside, like clay that could only be shaped by his hands. You sagged against him a little, taking pleasure in his admiration of your body.

A breathy sigh escaped your lips as Harry continued to knead and squeeze and pinch, cold air biting at your neck as he dragged his lips across your skin.

Every thought, every topic of conversation you'd prepared, every worry you had, evaporated into thin air, like it never existed in the first place. You couldn't feel anything but serendipitous pleasure as you both indulged yourselves on feelings that had been locked deep in your hearts for perhaps far too long. There was logic that needed to be considered—your tornado-stricken room, the cats, the actual date itself—but logic and reason seemed to have retreated too far into your mind to grasp.

"The—The date," you managed to say, though Harry practically swallowed the words with a kiss, his nose nudging yours playfully before capturing your bottom lip with his teeth. You hissed, but leaned in closer so he could do it again.

Harry didn't answer for a moment, two moments, three, not in any rush to go anywhere but further into your apartment, do anything but suck your tongue into his mouth. You whimpered, struggling to hold it together both physically and mentally.

"You're exquisite," he murmured, like he hadn't even heard your measly attempt at bringing up the date you were supposed to be on.

Your heart raced at the compliment, but a seed of doubt flickered irritatingly in your mind. You willed it away, but it was as stubborn as a splinter in your hand or a piece of fuzz in your eye. You wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until it was gone.

"I—"

"Don't think for one second it's just the dress," Harr said calmly but firmly. You had no idea, but he could feel you tense at his compliment and knew exactly where your mind drifted. He knew you. "You came up with things to talk about on our date? Research before our date? Fucking hot, Professor."

You couldn't help but giggle, especially when the nips to your skin became more playful. "Don't tease."

"I'm not," Harry insisted. For the first time since this impromptu kissing-and-feeling took place in the middle of your apartment, Harry tipped your chin up so he could look you in the eye. You saw nothing but sincerity there, his lips swollen and a deeper shade of pink than usual as he grinned. "I told you before, Y/n. I find every little thing about you mesmerizing."

You knew it wasn't physically possible, but you felt like your heart swelled in your chest from just those words alone. Any minute doubts in your mind turned to dust right then. Harry knew you, knew all of your quirks and odd habits and tendencies and behaviors, but he never once faulted you for it or tried to change you.

Kissing him once on the cheek, you said, "I know the last four and a half minutes might have proven otherwise, but I really would like to go on our date."

Not a single flicker of disappointment crossed Harry's face at that. His eyes just crinkled as he released you from the circle of his arms, but not before kissing you one last time. "Me too. I have something pretty interesting planned and I would hate to let it go to waste."

"What did you have in mind?"

"A place called the Russian Tea Room," Harry said, offering you his arm once you'd straightened out your dress and fixed your hair, both of which had been thoroughly rucked up by him. "I figured a little Eastern European history with our date couldn't hurt."

You resisted the urge to jump on him right then and there.

For a whole year, you'd gone without talking to Harry. That came with its own slew of pain and regret and resentment, but above all of that, you really just missed his companionship. It wasn't that you just missed talking to someone in general about history and novels and astronomy, but you missed talking to him about all those things. And to think that he picked out a date that would capture the essence of your old "book club" sessions, it made you love him all the more.

Harry was just so...Harry. Because of course he would pick out something that would have educational value. You loved to learn and share knowledge, loved discussing history, and he loved to listen and engage with you like no one else ever bothered to before.

"We should probably call and tell them we might be late to our reservation," you said as you walked down the streets of New York toward the subway. You figured with all the time you spent fooling around in your apartment, you'd definitely be late for any reservations Harry made in advance.

"You might have to call," he said, sounding the slightest bit sheepish.

"Why?"

Harry grinned and patted his pockets. "I was so nervous about tonight that I left my phone at the hotel."

Unable to stop yourself, you snickered, leaning against Harry's arm to try and muffle the sound. "You? Nervous? I don't believe it."

"I'm serious!" he insisted. "I kept changing my clothes and my shoes, not realizing that I was running late to pick you up, and I just left. Without it."

You laughed, and Harry did too. It was comforting to know that Harry had been just as anxious about tonight as you'd been, to know that you scrambled his brain as much as he scrambled yours.

You kissed his arm, running your thumb up and down the thick knit of his cardigan. He felt so cozy, looked so handsome. It made you want to kiss his cheek until a dimple appeared and run your hands beneath his shirt at the same time.

But even so, the idea of a Russian-themed tea room was too intriguing to not talk about. There was too much to talk about, in fact. It would probably be for the best if you started on politics now so you could talk about the fun stuff like architecture and art styles when you got there.

When you asked Harry how much he knew about the Tsars and Tsarinas of Russia, he shrugged and said, "As much as the next person, I suppose. I did a little research beforehand so I could at least try to impress you, but go ahead. Tell me about it."

You squeezed his arm excitedly began, trying to decide on the best course of action. "Well, you see..."

[lassoways]

true blue

chapter one: say anything

word count: 3.5k

warnings: cursing, suggestive content at the end but no actual smut, reader and jamie are grumpy and need hugs

masterlist | series playlist

say anything - girl in red

“So, will I be seeing you at Sam’s party tonight after the game then?”

Keely asks, playing with a strand of your hair affectionately. The two of you are standing in the hallway outside of your office at Nelson Road. You lean against the wall beside you, giving her a noncommittal shrug.

“I don’t know. I was thinking of just staying in tonight.” 

She frowns at this. “Oh, come on, babes! We have to support Sam’s new restaurant and besides,” she leans in and whispers as if she’s about to tell a salacious secret, “I was gonna invite a client of mine who is proper fit and I think you two would just hit it right off!” 

You groan. “Oh, Keely, no! I told you no more match ups.” 

You cringed at the thought of the last bloke she tried to set you up with. He cared more about your footballer brother than anything to do with you and the night eventually ended with you telling him to ‘fuck off and go date my brother if you love him so much’.

Keely’s frown deepens, puppy dog eyes staring straight into your soul. “Will you come if I don’t invite him?” 

You sigh, looking down at your paperwork on the clipboard in your hands, chewing the inside of your cheek. You glance back over to her, those big puppy eyes still working their magic and you give her a weak smile. “Okay, fine.”

She squeals, pulling you into a hug and you smile into her shoulder. You pull away, about to make a comment about how you have nothing to wear to the party tonight, but you’re interrupted by an annoying voice emerging from behind. 

“Good morning, Keely!” Jamie Tartt strolls down the hallway, a sports bag slung over his shoulder. He pauses in front of the two of you, giving Keely a cheeky grin before turning to you with a less than enthusiastic face and a curt nod, muttering your name as a greeting. You grunt in response. 

You’ve known Jamie ever since you started as AFC Richmond’s physiotherapist just a few months before he left for Man City, and you have never gotten along since - though your dislike for him goes even further back than that. Jamie and your brother have a rather public and long-going distaste for each other, and as a loyal sister, you have a distaste for anybody that is a prick to your family. And so, you and Jamie are constantly at each other’s necks, doing whatever to get under the other’s skin. 

“Hi, Jamie!” Keely greets, chipper as ever. 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and instead look him up and down, keying in on his regular clothes and bag. “Are you just now getting here? It’s a game day.” 

He scoffs, holding his hands up. “Chill. The star player just needed a couple more minutes of beauty sleep, is all.”

You feign confusion, “But Zava’s already here, and he looks plenty rested.���

 Keely jumps to change the subject.  “Jamie, you know my client, the one who runs that sock company! Don’t you think they'd hit it off?” She motioned towards you and you mentally curse at her. 

He looks you up and down and you start to scowl at the smirk taking form on his face. You already know he’s going to say something stupid. He looks at Keely and shakes his head, looking so smug. “Nah, I don’t think he’s into nagging know-it-alls.” 

Keely jumps between you two before you can open your mouth to fight back. “Okay, Jamie, good luck today! Bye!” 

She turns to face you as Jamie walks away. “I take it you two still hate each other?” 

She started her own PR firm recently and hasn’t been around the office much. She hoped the two of you would have magically worked through this shit by now, but that clearly wasn’t the case. She knew Jamie had grown so much lately, but for some reason, he was still the same old prick to you. 

You scoff. “I’m a professional, Keely. I don’t hate any of my patients.”

She gives a knowing look. You feel like you’re being scolded or something. 

“He’s gotten so much better lately, though.” Keely reasons.

You hum, uninterested. “I’ve yet to see all these ‘improvements’ everyone speaks of.” 

“Come on, just give him a chance. You two might surprise each other.” She sighs, giving you a squeeze on the shoulder. “I should go meet Rebecca upstairs. We’ll see you after the game, yeah?” 

You give her a reassuring smile before returning to your office. Game days meant you had to be ready at the drop of a hat in case an injury happened on the pitch. Putting your headphones in, you focused on getting all of your supplies in order for the big day. 

-

It was no surprise that Richmond won. With Zava joining Richmond as their true knight in shining armour, the team had been victorious once again, continuing their win streak. And while you were very pleased for your team, especially since nobody came out of the game with any serious injuries, you knew this meant there was no way you could bail on the party tonight. With everybody in the mood to celebrate, it would be impossible to stay under the radar and not attend, not if Keely had anything to say about it. 

So that’s why you were at Ola’s, nursing your second glass of champagne in a black slip dress that felt all too uncomfortable compared to the sweatpants you wish you were in on your couch. Keely and Rebecca babbled on next to you about one of Keely’s recent photo shoots for a client of hers, and you offered a chuckle or a gasp when necessary, otherwise remaining silent beside your friends. 

“Alright, that’s it.” Rebecca sat her drink down, pointing a beautifully manicured finger at you, “What on earth has gotten into you lately? You’ve been loafing around for weeks.” 

“I have not been loafing,” You had definitely been loafing. “I’ve just been feeling… a little uninspired with life lately, I suppose.” 

“That break up really got to you, eh?” Keely inquires, a sympathetic smile on her face. You shake your head. 

“No, it’s not that.” You pause, looking down at your drink. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s not like we were together long or anything, but now I’m just in such a funk and I can’t get out of it.” 

Rebecca nods, “I totally understand. But that guy was a twat, and you, my dear, are a bad bitch.” She turns to Keely with a sly grin. “Keely, do you know the best way to get out of a funk?”

Your two friends turn to you after sharing a glance, suspicious gleams in their eyes. Keely wiggles her eyebrows as she declares, “The best way to get out of a funk is to have absolutely mind-blowing sex!” 

You snicker. “Eh, I think I’m going to take a break from dating for a little bit.” 

Rebecca laughs, grabbing your hand from across the table. “My dear, you don’t need to be dating to have mind-blowing sex.” 

You roll your eyes, standing from the table and out of Rebecca’s grasp. “I know, I know. I’m going to get another drink, I need a break from you filthy lot.” You chuckle to yourself as they gasp, but escape to the bar before they can argue with you. 

With a fresh drink in hand, you glanced around the restaurant. The entire team and their friends were scattered throughout the restaurant, the sounds of laughter filling the area. Your brother sat in a booth adjacent to you, and when you met eyes with him, he raised his glass to you with a smile (well, as much of a smile as Roy Kent can give). You raise your glass back before taking a large swig of your drink. Turning, your gaze fell on a table off in the corner, with a miserable looking Jamie Tartt sitting by himself. 

You sauntered over. If anything could make you feel better, giving Jamie some shit would certainly do it. When you sit beside him, he barely looks up from his plate, too busy scooting around a piece of meat with his fork. 

“It’s not polite to play with your food.” You tease. 

He pauses before dropping his fork with a loud clatter against the plate. “Piss off.”

You reach over to poke at his grumpy face and he swats you away. You frown. “Didn’t you guys just win? Shouldn’t you be happy?” 

Jamie shakes his head, leaning back into his chair with an exasperated sigh. His eyes narrowed, looking past you. “Not much to be happy about right now, eh? I ain’t done nothin’ to help ‘em win.” 

You followed his gaze and your mouth made an ‘o’ when you saw the target of Jamie’s glares. Zava, Richmond’s new star player, had undeniably been stealing Jamie’s thunder since he joined the team and was largely responsible for Richmond’s uptick in victories. You know Jamie was jealous of this, you’d heard your brother mention it here and there, but you had no idea it was getting to Jamie this badly.  

You turned to face Jamie, still slumped in his seat. On a normal day, you would have helped dig him deeper into this hole with a snide comment or two about how much better Zava was than him, but as you watched him sit there looking so sad, so pathetic, so absolutely miserable, your best friend's words rang in your ears. Just give him a chance. 

You took another big sip of your drink. Liquid courage. You sigh. “You’re a great footballer, Jamie. I think you can be better than him. And besides, he’s a moron.”

His eyes softened, staring at you in disbelief. Maybe the alcohol was tricking your brain, but you could have sworn there was a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. He started to grin, “Wow, two Kent siblings nice to me in one night? ‘M I being punked right now?” 

You reach over and hit his shoulder. It wasn’t hard by any means, but he still rubs at the spot with a feigned hurt. “What did Roy say?” 

“He offered to train me.” He sits a little straighter in his chair. You could tell he was trying to hide his smile.

You gasp, “Is hell freezing over?” 

He lets out a laugh, probably the first genuine laugh he’s had all day. It makes you smile. “That’s what I’m saying!” He exclaims. 

The two of you stay like that for a while. Off at the corner table in what felt like your own little world, joking about your sour puss of a brother, or how much of a self-righteous twat Zava is. You felt a pang in your chest as you began to realize that Keely was right, maybe Jamie really has changed. For the better. And you were just constantly tearing him down, never giving him a real chance to show you he was different now. 

Jamie noticed your face falter, his eyebrows scrunching in concern. “You okay? You look like someone just pissed in ‘ya wheaties all ‘a sudden.”

You shake your head, taking the final sip of your drink and setting the glass down. “No, no. I just.. I think I'm gonna head home. I’m pretty tired.” 

“Do you like ice cream?” 

His question catches you off guard and you think it must be the beginning of a bad joke or something. You search his face, but when you don’t see any signs of humour, you realize he’s serious. 

“I love ice cream.” 

“Me too, and your cunt of a brother says my diet starts tonight but what he doesn’t know won’t kill ‘em, right? ‘Cuz I am absolutely craving ice cream right now.” He’s still looking at you intently. You feel like it’s starting to get too hot in the restaurant. 

You nod. 

“So what I'm thinkin’ is we go grab some ice cream at that shop around the corner and then I can walk you home.” 

He says it so matter of fact, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Like the two of you have been friends all along. You smile, “You don’t have to walk me home.”

Jamie waves you off. “Nah, it’s on me way so there’s no reason for me not to.” 

“How do you know where I live?”  

He laughs. “Don’t act all panicked or nothin’, I just remember havin’ to pick up Keely from your place one time, is all.”

Your eyes narrow. “Sure, Jamie. But if you’re gonna murder me, the least you can do is buy my ice cream first.” 

He stands, looking down at you. “I was already planning on doin’ that, love.”

You ignore the way that pet name makes you feel, the way it spreads heat all through your body. The champagne was definitely getting to you. You stand too, tilting your head up at him with a sly smile. “Oh, you’re pannin’ on murdering me?” 

He shoves at you playfully and you shove back. “Meet me out front. I gotta go say bye to Sam.” He says.

You nod, going your separate ways in the restaurant. You walk up to Roy and give him a hug, telling him no, you don’t need him to walk you home and yes, you will let him know when you get home safe. After quick hugs and kisses with Keely and Rebecca, you were standing outside Ola’s and beginning to feel incredibly stupid as you waited for Jamie. 

Were you really about to go get ice cream with Jamie fucking Tartt? Were you trying to pretend you were suddenly best of friends or some shit, when just this morning you despised him? Looking around, you wondered how bad it would be to just start walking home without him. 

“‘M so fuckin’ excited for some ice cream.” 

He shoots you a wide grin as he walks out of the restaurant, starting off towards the ice cream shop. When he realizes you aren’t walking with him, he spins on his heel, lips pursed. “You comin’?” 

You shake yourself from your thoughts, moving fast to catch up with him. “Y-yeah, I’m comin!” 

As he said he would, Jamie pays for your ice cream. He gets two scoops of rocky road, his favorite he says, and he calls you “diabolical” when you pick mint chocolate chip. You walk in step with him towards your apartment, enjoying your dessert and to your surprise, the company. It was amazing how well you got on with Jamie when you weren’t busy pissing eachother off. The whole thing still gave you a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach and you knew you had to apologize for your shitty behavior. 

After a while, your conversation enters a lull but you feel comfortable in the silence, happily eating away at your ice cream. He draws your attention back with the clearing of his throat, and you can feel his eyes on you. “Er, can I ask you somethin’?” He asks. 

“Sure, what’s up?” 

You can tell whatever he’s about to ask, he’s thinking of the best way to say it, chewing on the inside of his lip for a moment. “What’s had ‘ya feelin’ so down lately?”

It catches you off guard and it must have shown on your face. He continues, “Oh, c’mon. Everyone has been noticin’ how down in the dumps ‘ye are.” 

You sigh and take a bite of ice cream. “I suppose I just haven’t been feeling like myself these days. It’s just a funk, I’ll get out of it.” 

“It’s ‘cuz of your break-up, yeah?” 

You snap your head towards him. “How do you know about that?”

Jamie scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “I overheard Roy and Keely talkin’ about it the other day - about how he was an asshole to ‘ya.” 

You couldn’t disagree. Your ex might be the biggest asshole you know, and that’s saying a lot coming from someone related to Roy Kent. Nodding, you say, “He was an asshole.” 

He hums in agreement, not pressing you any further, taking another bite of his dessert. The two of you are silent again until you finally speak up. “I guess, yeah, I have been a bit sad lately.” You stop walking, gathering your thoughts and he stops too, turning to face you. “I’m not so much sad that we broke up because everyone’s right, he was an asshole, but he was so good at making me feel like shit and now I don’t know how…” you pause. “I don’t know how to not feel like shit anymore. And that makes me sad.” 

Finally getting that off your chest feels nice, and your amazed at how much better you feel just telling someone, anyone, even Jamie fucking Tartt. His gaze is soft and you can tell he feels bad for you. You look away. You can feel your body folding in on itself, arms crossing your chest. 

“You know, someone told me once that the only thing worse than being sad is being sad and alone.” Jamie says, and you peel your eyes off your shoes to look back up at him. “And I guess I just wanna say that ‘ya not alone, ‘ya get what I mean? You have Roy, and Keely, and Rebecca, and uh.. I’m here too.” 

You smile, beginning to walk again. You reach over, giving his shoulder a light push. “You know what, Jamie? You’re not so bad.”

“Oh, why thank you!” He flashes you a big, cheeky grin as he pops you on the nose. “I actually pride meself on being the ‘not so bad’-est.” 

When you reach your front door, you turn to face him, swallowing hard as you go over the apology you had been writing in your head the whole walk home. He beats you to speak though, nervously scratching the back of his head. 

“Listen, I, uh, I wanted to say I’m sorry for being such a prick to ‘ya. I’ve been trying so hard to be a better person lately but I dug meself in such a deep hole with you that I didn’t know what to even do, so I just kept bein’ an asshole and it was shitty and you don’t deserve that and-” 

“Jamie,” you try to interrupt him but he doesn’t let you, continuing his rambles.

“And I didn’t mean what I said this mornin’ neither. You’re not naggy or a know-it-all. You’re smart and good at your job and-” 

“Jamie,” you say again, louder. You step closer to get his attention, grabbing him by the sleeve on his wrist. You can smell his cologne, cedarwood and citrus. “I’m sorry, too. I’m always a dick to you, I never even gave you a chance to show me you’ve changed. And you have, by the way. You’ve changed.” 

His eyes soften. You can see on his face he’s relieved, happy that you’ve acknowledged how hard he’s worked to be a different person, a better person. He speaks quietly, just barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he wasn’t so close to you right now. “Thank you.” 

The two of you stay like that for a moment too long, eyes boring into each other. You’ve always known he was handsome, but right now on your doorstep, the moonlight shining on him, he was breathtaking. You hadn’t realized he took a step closer until you could feel his breath on your face, the smell of his cologne becoming even stronger. You watched his gaze go to your lips for a split second before looking back into your eyes and you knew right then you were fucked. 

In an instant, you close the gap between you two. He wastes no time kissing you back, his hands grabbing your waist, yours wrapping around his neck. The kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as it should, and you don’t miss the small noise he makes when you pull away, your hands pushing gently on his chest. “I’m-i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” 

Jamie cups your face, forcing you to look up at him. “No more apologies, yeah?.” 

And his lips were on yours once again. This time your hands were scrambling all over each other, desperate to touch as much as you can. His hands are everywhere, the nape of your neck, your hips, sliding down to cup your ass through the fabric of your dress. When you gasp, his tongue enters your mouth and you’re overwhelmed by the taste of him, the smell of him, the feeling of him. 

One hand reaches up to the hair at the back of his head, giving it a soft tug. You can’t help but smile against his lips at the moan he lets out, and he responds by pushing you up against your door, his lips moving to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, peppering kisses everywhere he can reach until he’s kissing your lips once more. You break from the kiss, just barely, and through heavy breaths you ask, “Do you want to come inside?”

[drconstellation]

The Newton/Crowley Mirror-Parallel in S1

Future Echoes from the Past #2

Let me take a moment to try and explain the process of how I approach meta writing. I’m not new to this. I might be new to this fandom, but I’ve been writing metas for twenty years in other fandoms. I’m an old hand at this, and I learnt how to do it with some pretty critical masters of the game. I’ve been wrestling with this meta for several days, which never a good sign. I thought I was on the right track here but got to a point where I was trying to make my biased square blocks fit into the round holes I was expecting to see, and they weren’t, and thought, nope, it’s time to back off and see what is there instead. When things don’t fall and click into place, when you can’t see the next connection easily, when it becomes too convoluted - and actually, I think some of the story is missing in the crucial places - that's a dead end for the time being, so the meta I was expecting (and hoping) to see didn’t emerge. But there is still something there to be revealed, and it was from a bit that I didn't think had much importance.

A few days ago I posted a meta about how the paintball fight at Tadfield Manor was a loose re-creation of the Great War in Heaven that lead to the formation of Heaven and Hell. It was more a description of events and the two sides, and I didn’t assign any of the S1 characters to the celestial characters that we would have expected to be involved with the rebellion. For example, the manager Nigel strikes me as standing in for Gabriel, and jaded old Norman, who is on the verge of retirement, and who organized the “team building exercise” is most likely to be Lucifer  - he is the leader of the Yellow team, who are quite unhappy and full of complaints about the others in the office. But other than those two, the other bit players amongst our regular cast were missing, or unclear. And this was a problem, a BIG problem, because while there hints to who was Crowley, the match to Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen, and he should be there. So, let’s leave that for the time being, and move on.

In the middle of all this is Newton Pulsifer. He oddly arrives in the office, destroys the electrical system, then leaves before the war begins. And there is an even odder follow-up exchange in the car park of the office as he departs. I had to ask why - why add this in?

[It should be noted, at this point in the discussion, that while the paintball fight was written in the original book, the office scene that is the prelude to the fight, and the scenes with Newt that I’m about to discuss, weren’t. They are from the tv series only.]

I have been building up a library of notes and screenshots to help me with my metas, and Newt and Anathema have been on my radar. I came across this screen shot of Newt lying on Anathema’s bed after his accident in Tadfield and went “Huh, he looks very Crowley-coded there with this black/grey clothes and yellow and red socks. That’s not the line I of thought I had been following..”

I kept going and then @ennas-aesthetic posted this meta about Jesus in S3 and mentioned that Anathema was an Aziraphale parallel, so that would make Newt a corresponding Crowley parallel – which would explain the screen shot mentioned. Then the final pieces for this meta were these two posts, one from @mouseonamoose about their thoughts on angel!Crowley and one from @cornchrunchie on part of the exchange between Aziraphale and angel!Crowley in Before the Beginning, at the start of S2E1. I’d already had a thought about another set of lines in this part that formed a parallel to Newt, but getting a second set of lines to tie it in to this S1E2 segment was a bonus, I must say.

So where am I going with all this rambling? Right. Let’s get down to business.

Hopefully by now I’ve established that one of Newt’s roles in the office scene that sets up the rebellion is to be not just a parallel to Crowley, but a mirror – he’s kind of the opposite, in a way. It’s like they are on opposite sides of the looking glass.

At the beginning of S2E1 we are shown angel!Crowley, the Starmaker – the Engineer. And what is Newt supposed to be? A computer engineer. Only, angel!Crowley engineers light, while Newt engineers darkness. Everywhere Newt goes, he turns out the lights. Which is why when he runs into Shadwell shortly after and is given the newspaper advert that declares “ASSISTANT REQUIRED TO COMBAT THE FORCES OF DARKNESS” if he joins the Witchfinder Army that I was cackling at the irony of this. Perhaps we’d better not get sidetracked with that though.

There’s a critical point here that I’d like to highlight that I noticed, and how I made the link, because it may have implications in the future, maybe in S3. In Before the Beginning, Crowley sets everything up to get the nebula started, then there is a slight pause.

Az: …is something meant to happen? Cr: Oh, right, sorry, yes yes. Knew I'd missed one. Let there be light.

It struck me that Newt’s efforts in making anything with electricity, the modern source of light, don’t work because he doesn’t check that he’s got everything right. He blacks out his neighborhood as a child without checking the circuits, he shuts down the entire office without checking his work.

Why would you need both light and dark? You can't really have one without the other. It's the yin and yang. Its balance. To see the light you need darkness. And to see shadows you need light.

So we get a short scene of Newt heading off to office, with his Almighty mother handing out some lunch rations, and wishing him luck. Hmm. He’s holding a box that contains, amongst various things, a pot plant (a bromeliad) with a deep red flower, for all love. Ngggkgk.

At the office, Newt is given the cold shoulder by the senior co-worker opposite him (I call her “Pearls,” because I don’t have the S1 script book and I’m not sure what she’s called.) She asks his name, but never offers hers. Sounds familiar, where have we seen that before…?

Az: Um, hello. I'm Aziraphale. Cr: Nice meeting you. Okay, here goes!

@mouseonamoose mentions that angel!Crowley wouldn't feel the need to mention his name if he was a high ranking angel here, he would expect other angels to know who he was. [op adds another item to their list of pointers to angel!Crowley being a senior Archangel...it's up to 18, btw. Yes, I know its only fanon at the moment...] Just like the Supreme Archangel "fucking" Gabriel hasn't got time for a bit of social chit-chat before Aziraphale!Crowley is supposed to be executed in the hellfire in S1E6. Just get on it with it, pleb! We've got better things to do with our time!

Outside, we see Newt has been given his marching orders. He's leaving already. A sharply dressed woman in a masculine-cut suit approaches quickly. I don't know about you, but she looks like a demon to me. Black suit, red hair, pink (which is a tint of red) shirt - she's a copy of Crowley. This is another Crowley-copy about to give some internal criticism to a Crowley-mirror.

"Need a hand, Dick?"

Then she power-walks past. Newt is not even worth her time stopping for.

*Snort* - and ouch. That's a below-the belt joke.

She's just called him a wanker. In the US you might use the term jerk instead. Someone who's a bit egotistical and more in it for themselves than others. (and I never thought I'd be fact-checking the meaning of this word ever, but there's always a first time...) She's basically just equated him Gabriel, in my book (and in more ways than one.)

That doesn't sound like the Crowley we know, does it? Maybe, maybe not - but it does reveal to us a world of information about what the other demons think about Crowley, and more importantly perhaps it gives a hint of what he was like pre-Fall and why he was cast out as a sacrifice for the team, a scapegoat and example for the losing faction, in addition to the asking of questions reason.

It's quite notable that Crowley doesn't have any other demon friends or allies, even after 6000 years. Plus, he seems to have gotten special treatment during that time. Furfur complains about this in the dressing room in 1941, remarking :

"No, what's ridiculous is demons like you doing what they please. And somehow still getting on, while demons like me graft for hundreds and hundreds of millennia and never get a sniff of a promotion! Well, not this time. Expect a Legion to come for you first thing tomorrow. Enjoy your last night on Earth."

Hastur calls him "Mr Slick," and thinks he's been up on the surface of the Earth too long. And you kind of get the idea that Lord Beelzebub is holding back their hand somewhat in their conversation in S2E1 when they summon Crowley down to Hell for a little chat about the missing Gabriel.

CROWLEY: [waving flies away] Augh. Oh, I thought we had a [spits out flies] generalized understanding. BEELZEBUB: We don't. You're still a traitor. I could put a price on your head any time I wanted to.

But they haven't put a price on Crowley's head. And they don't intend to. Crowley is still being given the special treatment. Also in that particular conversation is a hint that he was once on a similar footing to Beelzebub, and Beelzebub was also a high ranking angel before the Fall - they aren't Grand Duke of Hell and Satan's right-hand demon for no reason.

Its ever-so subtle, but its there. Those traces of privilege we were pointing out that Gabriel and Beelzebub flaunt when they abscond? Once upon a time Crowley had them too. But the passing millennia has slowly worn them away until we can barely see the traces of it. Although, it still shows up occasionally.

We should finish off the scene back in S1E2 with Newt, though, because he does show us s little bit more of our mirror-Crowley in the car park scene. As the demon-lady walks past him he calls after her:

"My name's not actually Dick, it’s the car's name. You can ask me why if you like."

Aww. Poor Newt. While Crowley was stopped from asking questions, and cast from Heaven because he wanted to ask questions, his mirror-character Newt is offering to answer questions for other people. It's just that they aren't interested in doing that either. Either way, the conversation stops, doesn't it.

To finish off, I'm going to leave you with this. I know, its about Newt not being a computer engineer, but since we've been discussing how Newt is a mirror-parallel to Crowley, perhaps it's something we need to tuck away in the back of our minds for S3 as well, when the past comes back to haunt us.

Further reading in this series:

#1: The Great War of Tadfield Manor

#3: "Not Even At Gunpoint!"

[small-sinclair]

Roadside Angel: Sinclair's Promise

Part 2 of Roadside Angel and it's inspired by this song and this song, too :3 . I decided to turn this into a series, so this isn't the last part. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Lester x reader (Vincent is mentioned at the end.)

Welcomed readers: @justmeandmyghosties, @idorkish, @mommymilkerfanclub, @early20sfailingplenty

Tw: blood, death mentioned, yelling/arguing, Lester punches a wall

Part 3

When you woke up, you were greeted with two things: a splitting headache and the cutest black and white dog laying next to you. Either way, you were happy to be awake, to be alive. Yesterday was all a blur but you knew some things. There was a car crash. You lived. A man (Lester, right?) drove you, your brother, and William here. You were stitched up by a man with a mask covering his face and injected you with some numbing thing, so you didn't feel anything.

Then came here. You weren't sure where your brother was, but you hoped he was close. You hoped that he was around to keep you safe or to have you call home to let your family know you're okay, but you didn't want your family to worry too much in the same breath. It's confusing how things work around in your mind.

The dog's head lifted and moved closer to you. You couldn't help but pet the dog, smiling to yourself. "At least I got a pretty baby to keep me company," you cooed, giggling lightly.

You looked around the room and realized you weren't in the same room as before. You were in a soft bed with a quilted blanket over your shoulders. The sheets were soft against your skin, and your hands wondered over the cool bedside next to you. The room was painted a golden orange with dark wood trimming to match the floor. There was a standing dress, and it looked old and worn from years of use. The dark red rug under the bed needed to be vacuumed, but it wasn't too bad. You also didn't question the slippers that are shaped like life-sized ducks. You found them quite cute. The white door was close to show a poster of Louisiana's wildlife in the marsh, and it looked like it was from a school book sale from way-back. A green hat hung on the door knob, and it made your eyes perk, tilting your head to the side. Was... is this Lester's room?

Off to the side, the sound of water turning off and the door made your shoulders stiffen, but you winced from the pain in your shoulders. The door opened and Lester freezes. His face wasn't grimy or dirty. There were no blood stains on his hands or in his cream colored tank-shirt. His jeans were now light grey sweatpants and socks with turtles on them. His eyes were brighter without the dirt or blood, and the water made his curls more defined and standing. He pauses and looked at you, confused then scared then relaxed. What a roller coaster of emotions.

"Ya awake," he breathed out relieved. "Was worried when ya didn't wake 'is morn." He sat on the other side of your head. The dog's head perked up and the tail wagged. "Jonesy's been wit' ya all day," he pats the dog's stomach, "she's a good dog."

Jonesy nudged her head under your arm for more pats, her bright eyes begging for love. You smile warmly as you patted her ears and head. There was silence between you two, but you were happy with it. It was comfortable and not forced, something that was always given to you when you and your brother were forced to looked at each other after an argument. You relaxed to the sound of the birds outside the window singing.

Lester was the one who broke the silence when he asked, "How do ya feel?"

"Sore," a finger went up, "tired," another finger went up, "and uncertain." Your lowered the three fingers and nodded at him. "You? What are your three feelings?"

He wiped his nose and folded his hands, leaning forward on his knees. Under the ream shirt, you noticed a large back tattoo of angel wings folded up and tied by barbwire. "Confused, relieved, and... anxious," he drawl, his voice struggling to pinpoint the right words. "'M sorry, feelin's ain't my strongest suits, sweet pea."

You shrugged. "That's okay. My ma says people struggle a lot with that type of stuff, and it's good to let it out, you know? Like," you bit the inside of your cheek, "talking about three feelings."

He glanced at you as soon as you mentioned your mother, his eyes surprised. "Yer mama 's a smart woman," he gave a toothy grin then looked forward. "Mama never lik' it when I tol' 'er 'bout my feelin's. Shot, Pa was t'same. Yelled at me when I did."

He stops himself and looks down at his hands that were once covered in your brother's blood. He could still hear your brother drifting away in his arms while Lester promised to take care of you, to look after you. He never liked killing, Bo knew that and so did Vincent, and he tried to stay far from it. He wants to tell you so bad, but the tugging feeling was too much. You can't handle that type of grief right now.

"Sorry," he said in a low voice. "Drifted off."

"Where did you go?" You asked sincere. You were always a good listener. You were the one person that people went to talk and rant.

He swallowed hard. "Somewhere 'at y'all never see, honeycomb." His eyes watered then he wiped away the tears, staggering a breath. "'M sorry, y/n," oh... he remembers your name, "didn't mean t'open lik' 'at."

You shake your head. "No, you're good," you offered a smile then looked down at Jonesy, who was sleeping on your thigh. "It's good to let that type of stuff out."

"Thank ya kindly, but I should be more worry of ya." His eyes met yours. "Ya went through t'crash."

"I'll live," you shrugged. "Just have to see Jace and William. I have to make sure they're okay."

His face melted from worry to sadness. He looks down at his hands, listening to your brother's dying breaths. It was struggled and staggering over each word as he and Lester promise to keep you safe. To swear it over and over until he died then and there in his grasp. He hated death. He hated it.

Ever since Lester killed his father--

"They're at the house," he lied. "Bo's havin' 'em help with th' car."

Jace helping with cars? That doesn't sound like him.

But it must because he has to pass the time doing something while he waited on you to wake. William knows a bit of cars, but you didn't think that the car was going to be fixable.

"Bo?"

"My brother. He owns the station and garage in town."

"He can fix that car?"

"C'n try."

"But it exploded, and there was fire--"

Lester let a chuckle escape. "Bo's lik' a god when it comes t'cars." He let a cheesy smile leave. "He c'n fix anythin'!"

Behind his smile, you knew something was wrong, but you didn't want to say anything. You know better than to open old wounds and wake sleeping dogs. You closed your eyes and closed your mouth to cover a yawn. You were tired from everything still, and Lester knew it.

"Do ya need me t'gettcha anythin'?" He offered. "Water? Pain killers? A bit of food?"

"Water, please," you hummed tiredly. "It's been a long day."

"You got it, y/n." He stands and leaves the bedroom. You looked at the window again to see the afternoon sun shifting to the evening sky. The sunset from yesterday was perfect; you wonder if tonight's sunset was the same. When he came back, he had a clear glass, with little yellow ducks on it, in one hand and cupping two white pills in the other. "Drink slow," he advised. "My brother said t'do 'at... Vincent."

"He was the one that fixed me p, right?" You asked, taking the glass and pills. When your hands touched, you were expecting hard and rough skin, but they were soft and gentle. You looked at his ridged hands, admiring the little scars from long ago before taking the pills.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes lingering over your lips and throat, swallowing again. "Yeah, Vincent did. He said ya were lucky. The glass missed some major vines and such." He flashed a smile, but it faded when he looked down at his hands again. He can still see the blood. Why does he still see it?

"You okay, Les?" You asked, your words careful. "Where you going to?"

His eyes started to water as he squeezed his eyes shut. Every thing was burning inside him, and it was making him explode in colors that he didn't understand. Feelings are for girls! For women! He's not that; he's a man! So, why is he getting chocked up? Why does he hate the sudden smile of blood? This morning when he was picking up roadkill, he smelt the death, the sourness of bitter copper and salt. For the first time in years, he had to turn his head and throw up. Something inside him re-bloomed when he looked at you like a dying tree regrowing their leaves after years without water or sun.

He clinched his jaw up tight. "I did somethin' bad, y/n, 'n ya won't forgiv' me."

You tilted your head to the side confused. "What do you mean?"

He takes in a shaky breath. "Yer brother ain't here," he admits, closing his eyes. "I lied."

No... no.

"Where is he?" You asked concerned. Lester swallowed hard and closed his eyes. You didn't like how long his silence stayed. "Lester-?"

"He ask-asked me to keep ya safe," he leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. He was choking up now, his words filling with hurt. "He asked me t'watch ove'a ya."

Your blood ran cold as you looked at him then at the dog. "Where is my brother?"

He looked at you dead in the eyes and gave an answer you didn't want, "Somewhere no one c'n follow."

Your stomach dropped as your hands started to shake. "What did you do?"

"I didn't--"

"What did you do, Lester?!" Your voice cracked as you brought your legs up slightly. Jonesy's head lifted. "Give me an answer!"

"Bo killed 'em!" He spat. His eyes started to over flow. "I-I tol' Bo t'stop but he didn't! He didn't!" He drew in a shaky breath and looked down at his hands. His damn hands. "I tried and tried but-but t'blood won' stop! It didn't! It didn't stop!" His voice crack as he slid off the bed to his knees. H covered his face in his hands, and he felt sick. He could still feel that boy's blood. He could smell it and he wanted it to burn. "I tried t'stop it! I tried!"

You only could sit there and watch as he fell apart on the floor. "You..." you shifted in the bed and shuffled away from him. "You're a monster."

His head shot up and looked at you. He was breathing fast, shaking his head. "Don-don't say 'at!"

"You let him kill Jace!"

"Stop! Stop it, please!" His voice was cracking, every word breaking at the seams. "I-I'm sorry! I tried so hard!"

You moved away from him until you were on the other side of the bed. Jonesy was next to Lester licking his tears. Your legs shook as you rolled out of bed and pressed your back against the wall. Here you thought he was a nice guy, a gentleman like in the books. Here was... his angel winged tattoo wrapped in barbwire for a reason, and you wanted to hurt. To bleed. To kill.

But you were better than that. You had to be better than that.

You hugged your legs and tied to silent your cry, but sob escaped as you looked up at the ceiling, screaming out in pain, crying out to the ceiling. Your best friend, your brother. He was all you had left because he took you in from your family, from that pitiful place called home. Just for a trip to see the south! Your mother was excited for you to leave and travel. She always wanted to travel. Here you were, going on an adventure and he's gone. Dead.

You heard his feet shuffling towards you with Jonesy on his heels. Soon, she was licking your face and whining as she tired to calm you, but you hugged her tightly and cried in her fur. Lester sat on his knees a couple feet away from you, his face broken with too many emotions and tears. He was trying so hard to keep it together long enough to finish his story. You had to hear him out. You have too!

"He ask-asked me t'keep ya safe 'n cared fer," he choked in choppy breaths. "An' I-I gave 'im my word. Sinclairs keep their-their words." He gripped his hands tightly. "I begged Bo not t'kill ya! I Begged an' he made-made a deal wit' me."

Your head perked up. "What deal?" You felt sick.

He lets out a deep breath, answering, "He-he said ya hav'two months t'say-say ya love me."

You let out a laugh loud enough to cut him deep. "You're dreaming if you think I'll ever love you!"

He swallowed hard as fat tears fall again. "Ya gotta or-or Bo'll kill ya."

"Let him," you laughed. "Jace was all I had left! Now what? Take me out back-"

"No-"

"-and shoot me?"

"No!" He yelled. His face was mangled in fear and sadness. "No! I-I can't do 'at!"

"Why?" You scoffed. "You're like him, aren't you?" Your words stung him as he was trying to grapple at something, anything, but his hads were falling through. "You're a killer like him!"

He snapped, his fist balled up as he hits the wall. Jonesy jumped up from you and stood between you and him as if she was trying to keep you safe. His hand went through it as if it was paper. "I don't lik' killing! I-I never had!" Then his face fell as he looked down as his voice grew softer. "I never liked killin'. Animals, bugs, people-- I don' lik' killin'."

Your eyes glossed over him then squeezed your eyes shut. "So, you promised to keep me safe?"

"Yea," he whispered, his voice defeated and tired. "I gave my word." He moved his hand from the wall and holds it close to him. Lester licks his lips nervously, "Sincalir's always keep their promises." His knuckles were bleeding and the skin was raw from the new pain. "He-he called ya 'snickers' an' said 't'keep sinkers safe'." That was your nickname. Only Jace knew it. "An' I promised."

You took a few shakey breaths. "And Bo won't kill me if I save that I love you?"

He nods, his brown eyes red and puffy.

You looked at the bed and closed your eyes. What were yo to do? But you made your mind up. "You said I have two months?"

"Yes."

"It takes thirty days to fall into habit," you hummed. "And it takes thirty days for feelings to grow." You looked at Lester up and down. "I do not love you today, Lester Sinclair, and I will not love you tomorrow." He looked like a puppy that just got kicked. "But, everyday, I will find a reason to. Even if that mean I have to think about it really hard." You kissed Jonesy head and hugged her. "For now, I don't love you and I think I will never love you." You closed your eyes as you looked away from his hurt face. "But I will learn to. One day at a time. Thirty days. I'll write them down."

Lester nodded his head as he held his hurt hand tighter. Thirty days. That seems good enough.

"But you have to do the same in kind," you said, locking eyes with him. "You have to find thirty things about me every day."

"Lik'," he swallowed the lump in his throat, "lik' twenty questions? Askin' a question a day?"

You needed. "Yep. Every single day until there is nothing left." You looked at the bed. "We are not sleeping together. No chance in hell."

"Got it."

You both looked at each other then at the hole in the wall. Shakily, you found the strength to stand up from the floor. "Come on, let's get that hand wrapped."

************

Outside the door, Vincent stood still as he listened to the whole thing. He was going to check on you and his brother since last night, but hearing this, all of this and the plan...

He has to make sure it works and Bo doesn't interfere. He was to or you'll die. Lester can't handle that type of pain.

His brother was right, though. A Sinclair's word is strong, and a promise is a promise. He'll do everything that he could to make sure you're safe with his baby brother. He'll make sure Bo doesn't do anything. He'll make sure to keep his murderous thoughts to himself and act out on visitors... both him and his twin.

He promises, y/n.

Vincent Sinclair promises.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Colours in Our Skyy 2 Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars ep 2

With this first crossover ep and the whole thing set in Chiang Mai/Pha Pun Dao, I was interested to see whether the colours I had interpreted in Bad Buddy would continue. @respectthepetty has written a great post on the use of lighting in atots, but I didn't pay as much attention to the lighting in this crossover to be able to say whether it's been consistent here too (maybe they will!).

I did notice, however, that the villagers wore a lot of blue and red (although a quick scan of atots reminded me that they wore a lot of those colours in that series too...although weighted more on the blue side).

Hello Toto and sound-booth-guy! (I think he had a name but I couldn't find it again). Also, I think they raided the wardrobe for Aou in Vice Versa for Pat's Chiang Mai clothes - why has he gone from sleeveless shirts in BBS to pocketed vests in OS2?!

Beyond all the blue and red, the other colours featured as well...starting with Pran in an orange shirt, which I said I would talk about in my ep 1 post. I love the idea that the orange might be a reference to Ink and how she entered Pat and Pran's story as a potential faen fatale in ep 4 of BBS. Initially, Pran regarded her cautiously as a love interest for Pat and similarly in Our Skyy 2 Pran is first looked upon warily by Tian as someone suspiciously close to Phupha (the children don't help by saying Pran is Phupha's boyfriend). This leads me back the tent in ep 1, and the orange there could also have been a nod to the faen fatale character - of Wai coming between the couple by being mistaken by Pat for Pran. Anyway, note Pran's yellow socks below! He might have left Pat behind but his love for him is still with him.

Pran's orange could also have been a choice for Aof to create the wonderful parallel with Moonlight Chicken, of Mix's character being witness to the 'baby-gays', alongside Pat's blue striped top. But Tian's olive-green top (and Phupha's camouflage), suggests the conflict and hostility between both couples.

The next day, despite sabotaging Pran's attempts to get Phupha and Tian to make up, Pat is wearing a yellow top, perhaps proclaiming his love for Pran out loud. Pran, despite telling Pat he wanted to come alone and get the signatures without his help, is wearing Pat's colour - a loud proclamation itself. And we soon see that they have exchanged colours again, with Pat wearing Pran's colour close to his under his shorts (@dimplesandfierceeyes pointed out a great little parallel with this to BBS ep 7 here). Note also Pran's yellow socks again - maybe this is the start of them matching their tops and socks 🤭

Jumping back to the night before and the dark green and brown of their tops could symbolise their fight - their stubbornness to not give in to the other becomes an obstacle to their happiness and they go to sleep disgruntled with each other.

But then the next night is a different matter, when they *ahem* test the structural integrity of the hut... Pat's love for Pran makes him always want to help Pran, seen in the yellow of his top, and they end up unified again (shaking the hut) as symbolised by all the teal and mint green (do we include the Nong Nao mask in this? 😄).

The next day, Pran is in his own red, perhaps feeling back to himself again after pulling away from Pat...and Pat is confusedly in the strange 'Aou from Vice Versa' outfit above 🤷🏽‍♀️ (sometimes clothes are just clothes 😏) Later, Pran wears yellow stripes (in front of a yellow lantern) whilst singing about his and Pat's love. Pat's also in stripes and the blue could add to his confidence as the 'engineering top-notch'. The green, however, is quite neutral - a 'primary' green, neither good (lime, mint, or teal) nor bad (forest/olive), and maybe this alludes to the draw he eventually has with Phupha and that the outcome of their drinking was neither good nor bad.

Incidentally, I liked that Pat woke up on a bed of red, initially thinking he was with Pran, and on top of another mat that looks yellow and blue, and was covered by a blanket in his own blue. With the amount he loves Pran, it's not hard to see that he wouldn't have cheated on him, even blind drunk (the same maybe could be said for Phupha with Tian).

It was interesting that Phupha and Tian also wore teal whilst Pat and Pran were trying to get them back together...and they might have succeeded if it hadn't have been for the letter - perhaps Tian's olive green pants and Phupha's camouflage allude to this...or, going back to @respectthepetty's interpretation of lighting, the fact that the lighting is quite cold here could show that the night would not end well for them.

And so on to the brown on Yod and Kampung - perhaps showing Phupha yielding to Pat's challenge, and Pran yielding to Tian's desire to walk to Pha Pun Dao. It's a nice touch that it looks like Yod has a dark blue shirt over the top of his brown (whilst with Pat) and Kampung has the red jersey (whilst with Pran).

And lastly, we end on olive/brown and camouflage - symbolising the trouble ahead for both couples (and for our sanity) and the sacrifice that they might have to make. (Or, you know, it just makes sense for them to be wearing this because they're forest rangers 🤷🏽‍♀️).

[ep 1] [ep 2] [ep 3] [ep 4] (<- I'm being hopeful)

[fatherfigurefusion]

Introducing you to the cast of Downfall of the Uprising (3/4):

Part 1: (Here)

Part 2: (Here)

***********************************

Narufumi Yumehara

Talent: Ultimate Conlanger

Birthday: July 27th (Leo)

Gender: male (he/him)

Sexuality: aroace

Height: 6 FT 6 IN (198 cm)

Likes: collecting dice and dragons

Dislikes: prescriptivism and the smell of iron

Appearance: A very muscular build with very noticeable chub, long and shaggy midback-length blue hair that fades into pink near the ends, reddish-brown eyes, pointy ears, a rainbow-tie-dyed sweater with a swirl pattern in the center, gold and blue shoulder pads that hold up a blue cape, grey pants, a pouch attached to his pants, pink socks and blue slippers, carries around a prop sword.

While garnering fame for his ongoing novel series, "The Marsnovian Saga", Narufumi gained his Ultimate title from creating several original languages for the many races inhabiting his worlds, complete with him even offering courses on how to speak these many languages. Fashioning himself as a paladin born of the loving matrimony between a giant and an elf, to explain away his massive height, hefty girth, and weirdly-pointed ears, Narufumi views the world much like one of his novels, to the point of viewing his fellow killing game participants as fellow denizens of his fantasy worlds. In spite of his eccentric demeanor, however, he is kind-hearted and surprisingly mature, always wanting everybody to be included in the group dynamic. 

***********************************

Tatsumasa Inoue

Talent: Ultimate Industrial Designer

Birthday: February 24th (Pisces)

Gender: male (he/him)

Sexuality: bisexual

Height: 5 FT 7 IN (170 cm)

Likes: chromium and stage musicals

Dislikes: apples and uselessness

Appearance: An average build, suntanned skin, wavy blonde hair that stops just above his shoulders, white sunglasses nestled in his hair, grey eyes, a blue polo shirt with his brands logo on the front pocket protector, white skinny jeans, a black sidebag that holds his sketchbook and assorted technology, white socks, black and white converses.

A reigning figure in the designing of various electronic devices and appliances for several industries, Tatsumasa has one of the most influential talents, even amongst the rest of his classmates in Hope's Peak, and he knows it like there's no tomorrow. Highly egotistical, Tatsumasa walks through life with a confident strut, while judging everybody else around him as a "loser" in the most passive-aggressive way possible, making him highly unpopular amongst the group. In spite of his massive amounts of bluster leading to general hilarity when he inevitably falls flat on his face, he is diligent and dedicated to changing the world for the better (or at least, his idea of the "better"), and often spends all day at his desk, drafting up the next big thing. 

***********************************

Shion Nikaidou

Talent: Ultimate Composer

Birthday: May 22nd (Gemini)

Gender: questioning (he/she)

Sexuality: lesbian

Height: 5 FT 7 IN (170 cm)

Likes: leather jackets and RPGs

Dislikes: static noises and tightness

Appearance: An androgynous build, brown hair in a bob cut with an ahoge on the right side that resembles a music note, purple headphones, matching brown eyes, a black leather jacket over a white band shirt, a red glove on the left hand and a blue glove on the right hand, blue jean shorts with a pink checkered handkerchief sticking out of one of the pockets, checkered Vans, mismatched socks with the left being blue and the right being red.

Shion is a well-renowned composer over the internet, famous for experimenting and combining a wide variety of musical genres to make ingenious compositions. And her personality is just as varied and volatile as his discography. One moment, he's a hyper-masculine ball of manliness who shouts all of his sentences and goes on about his "bros". And another moment, she is a hyper-feminine girly girl who behaves like a mix between an idol and a cheerleader, with the dances and speech patterns to match. A walking identity crisis who is ruled by his equally-inconsistent emotions, Shion still stands out as one of the friendliest and most sociable of the cast, showing off a surprisingly high empathy and emotional intelligence.

***********************************

Takara Okura

Talent: Ultimate Collector

Birthday: March 6th (Pisces)

Gender: female (she/her)

Sexuality: pansexual

Height: 4 FT 10 IN (147 cm)

Likes: stuffed animals and pudding

Dislikes: any vegetables and empty space

Appearance: A thin and delicate build, long red hair (with a long ahoge on top) that goes past her back and a green ribbon on each side of her head, a green cardigan that hides her hands over a long white dress, white knee-high socks and black Mary Janes.

Having lived her whole life isolated in her family's expansive estate, Takara spends most of her days using her large amount of money to amass massive collections of just about anything, resulting in her Ultimate title. Because of her upbringing stunting her social skills, she finds herself out of place amongst the rest of her classmates, and often isolates herself. Timid and low on self-confidence, Takara doesn't deal well with change or foreign situations, and would much rather hide away from such scenarios. In spite of her spoiled upbringing, she is definitely far from mean and wouldn't hurt a fly (not that she can really do much damage, being the shortest and weakest of the cast), being gentle and kind-hearted.

***********************************

One more group and they will be fully introduced! If you have any predictions or questions, feel free to say so!

[witchesoz]

Fashion in Oz: The Good Witches (6)

Moving on to another Oz adaptation: The Muppets' Wizard of Oz, which - being based on the original book - has two good witches instead of one. Here we have the Good Witch of the North, who is basically sporting on a sexier version of the Good Witch's original look (because that's Miss Piggy, she has to be sexy in every scene she is). I mean, you have the pointy hat (though without the bells, making it more like a witch hat, it rather has a white-translucid veil on it), the white hair and a white dress like in the original, with the addition of white gloves and a more traditional "magic wand with the star at the top".  You might have noticed the Good Witch's color motif here is entirely white (which isn't the color of all witches in this iteration, just the North Witch's color). But the dress is definitively much sexier than what the Good Witch would have originally worn - with quite a prominent cleavage, and the sleeves being of the same translucid material than the witch's hat-veil. Of course, I also have to leave this clip:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdIAWaFoXUs

As for the Muppet's version of Glinda... she is basically Miss Piggy. Just Miss Piggy in Oz X) Mind you, she still has her own color palette - here a sort of mauve/lavender purple, with elbow-sized gloves, a big-cleavage sleeveless dress (just like her sister of the North), and the addition of a feather boa. Oh, and she also has blond hair, to match the idea of varying hair colors (East's red, West's black, North's white, South's blond)

I've got one more show to end this series, which won't be this one but the next. This one is the anime adaptation of the Wizard of Oz. Not, not the movie adaptation, because that would be too many adaptations - rather the television series based on several of Baum's books. It is "Ozu no Mahotsukai" (or rather Ozu no Mahoutsukai), and this is their depiction of the Good Witch of the North. As you can see, they actually tried to stick to the original book description, of a little old woman with a pointy hat and a simple dress. They even went to the extend of adding the ruff collar, the similarly wavy end-of-sleeves, and a little magic wand with an N at the top. They didn't include the bells around the hat though, but I think no one does that to better have the witch be separated from the Munchkins. What the anime did add or change was making the Good Witch actually fat, the addition of little glasses, the detail of her having stripped socks (probably to evoke the stripped socks of the Wicked Witch), the addition of a cape in her back, and finally the color of her outfit, which goes from white to here orange. I guess they didn't want her to detone too much with the fantastical and weirdly-colored landscape they had created for Munchkinland, and wanted to rather give her a more... a warmer, softer color indicating she is indeed a nice little grandma-witch. (The fact they gave her a cape, stripped socks and a pointy hat makes me think maybe they tried to subvert the MGM movie - because in this movie, a cape with dress, stripped socks and pointy hat are the iconic look of the Wicked Witch(es). I don't remember any other Witch character, in the various adaptations, wearing a cape... so maybe this was the anime's attempt at truly making a reverse-Wicked Witch)

And we get to the second Good Witch of "Ozu no Mahoutsukai" - Glinda, the Witch of the South! Here we also have some major changes compared to the book counterpart... She is definitively young and good-looking, and she has notes of white in her design - from her pale white skin to the white cape behind her back (which isn't actually white, but translucid, as you can see here:

We also have some slight... "sexification" if I could say, with a sleeveless dress with a clear division between the skirt and a very torso-fitting bodice that visibly closes on the chest. We find back a headwear of royalty, here a silvery diadem. As for the color palettes, it is a bit muted here, but this Glinda has the usual choice of turquoise (for her hair and her skirt) and pale pink (for the bodice part of her dress, as well as the rest of her palace). You can see the color more vividly here:

Overall this has to be one of the most unusual Glindas I have seen, to be fair, due to how... well, unusual her design is here. Or maybe it is just me?

[redrowletart]

09 March 2022

ORIGINAL POST CAN BE FOUND ON TWITTER HERE

Them in their silly little jammies!! I love these five little guys so much I made a whole itabag for them. Anyway.

I originally drew this just to think about what sort of casual clothes each of them would prefer.

Hinata was easy enough, we see him in casual clothes frequently, and he seems like the sort of person who has a lot of old clothes he doesn't wear outside anymore. He's more likely to pull out an old shirt and some pyjama bottoms rather than wear a whole set or anything. I imagine Yamaguchi is very similar as well, though he is equally likely to not change clothes and just fall asleep in whatever he's got on. Kageyama doesn't own old shirts necessarily, but he'll throw on a sweatshirt. It's a cold day if he bothers with pants.

Tsukishima and Yachi, on the other hand, own pyjama sets and care enough to wear them together. In Tsukishima's case, I believe he goes to the effort of dressing appropriately and in the matching clothes just because it's the done thing. Or at least, he seems like the sort of person who holds a distinction between "daytime clothes" and "nighttime clothes". And, besides, he gets cold. For Yachi, feeling cute just makes her happy!

I hope you all enjoy!!

Media description under the cut. Please do not repost or edit my art.

[Media Description:

This post features fanart for the anime and manga series, Haikyū!!

The first image is a digital drawing featuring Hinata Shōyō, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi and Yachi Hitoka. They walk in a line, from right to left, all five of them are dressed in pyjamas.

Hinata takes the lead with excitement. He is wearing a white t-shirt with a blue and red graphic design on the front, as well as black shorts. Kageyama holds onto Hinata's shirt, as if holding him down. Kageyama wears a pale yellow sweatshirt and navy boxers.

Tsukishima is next. He wears a dark purple pinstripe pyjama set with long sleeves and legs. He also wears white socks. Behind him is Yamaguchi, wearing a grey shirt with white text and maroon sweatpants. He holds a pillow in his hands, pushing it against Tsukki's back as they walk.

Finally, Yachi is at the end, skipping along beside them. She wears a light blue pyjama set patterned with white hearts. Unlike Tsukishima's set, hers has short sleeves and pant legs.

The second image is a more detailed render of Yamaguchi in his pyjamas. He sits cross-legged on the carpet and brushes his hair behind his ear. In this image, the text on the front of her shirt can be read as the kanji for "spear".

End of Media Description.]

[thelivingmemegod]

Thoughts on the Junior High line? (Both series)

Junior High!

Ruby Anderson!

My sweet girl. She was DEEP in her Supreme phase here it’s very cute, it feels very juvenile, I love her necklace, I love her top, side pony, I love her checker sneakers too. Her under sweater with the red and black sleeves and the scrunchie. Her backpack is really cute too. I wish they had these in Rainbow High too (I wish basically everything things set in school had backpacks though, so not new at all lol-)

Poppy Rowan!

Please I’m hyperventilating SHES SO CUTE-

LOOKIT HER ELEPHANT EAR SLEEVES WITH THE BUTTERFLY LIKE PRINT, LOOK AT HER BOWS AND HER FLOWER CHILD BUILT ASS HAIRSTYLE-

LOOK AT HER SHOES THEY’RE SO CUTE-

I love her backpack too! The sparkle print and the monarch butterfly patch are adorable. Her freckles are kicking my ASS it’s so cute

Sunny “this women is gonna end me” Madison!

This jacket, this shirt, this skirt, THESE SOCKS- all the pins and prints I’m- 😭

Her shoessss, her platformsssss I say she still has these platforms in Rainbow High and you cannot take that away from me.

She’s 100% a victim of the see-through backpack thing in America BUT she made the most of it and it’s adorable.

Her hairstyle is just darling, I love the rainbow clips, I love the buns and the curls and HER BABY HAIRSSSS (chokes)

Jade Hunter!

Jade is super cute!

Love the low cut colorblock pants, love the boxers peaking out, love the stripe croptop moment. All of these dolls have been proof that RH is better when they don’t let them make shoes see through. Love the shoes. Her twin ponytails and her scrunchies and her socks (especially the socks cuz you can’t even see them but they’re still awesome)

Once again, the backpack is fire.

Skylar Bradshaw!

Loveeee her sweatshirt, it looks so comfy. Her jirt (I’m sorry for this stupid ass joke I just love it) looks like she took a silver metallic posca marker and went to town on that pocket.

Her lil topknot hair is cute! Love the fact that her hair tie matches the tag she left on her shoe (which is a real trend!) I also really like the checker on the bottom and the printing on her socks. Another See-through backpack girl, at least it’s cute!

Violet Willow!

This boujee bitch went to a private school LOOK AT HER.

Most popular girl there.

The bangs are MUCH better and I love the pigtails with the fluffy hair ties. I love her cardigan, her button down, her plaid skirt, her knee thick’s and the diamond shoes. Her backpack is giving Channel grandmas couch REALNESS

SERIES TWO

Amaya Raine!

ADORABLE. Her sweatshirt is so, sooo cute, her pleated skirt is kinda weird pattern wise but still pretty cute cuz it’s like an add on to the sweater. Those BOOTS ARE THE STAR; YES GIRL YOU ARE FASHION.

Her white hair is really cute and I love the rainbow backing with the gold everywhere.

BACKPACK IS FIRE

Krystal Bailey!

Her lip color aside.

CUTE ASS PUFF HAIRSTYLE WITH THE BABY HAIRS AAHHHHH

Love the printed Jean jacket and skirt and ooooo those boots are HEAT gimmie.

The sorta satchel backpack with that latch is a nice change

Kendall River- 😭

I’m adding him because TELL ME WHY HE DOWNGRADED BETWEEN JUNIOR HIGH AND HIGH SCHOOL.

SEVENTH GRADE HIM LOOKS LIKE THE MOST POPLAR VAUGELY CUTE BOY IN YOUR CLASS THAT LIKE EIGHT GIRLS LIKE ALL AT THE SAME TIME. HE IS THE MESSIEST BOY HERE.

Karma Nichols!

I like this more than the base doll actually- I like the high waisted shorts set in green and white and the jacket and the shoes. She looks sporty and I like that she’s holding her backpack more like a purse.

Sella Monroe!

Girl you needa learn some CONTRAST. But I do like sequin dress, her crown and her t-strap heels they’re cute. Also like her satchel/pure/backpack

Bella Parker

She has no waist but I actually like it for the juvenile look. I like her little bow tie, the black buttons, the straight on bow and high pony, love that she keeps her socks and heels between these two, cute detail. Her bag is also adorable and giving the same realness as Violet.

[wings-of-flying]

finished lockwood & co! thoughts time!!

the more comprehensible ones first. the visual direction on this show is fucking genius!! some highlights include: lockwood's outfit (i want that coat), actually being able to see shit during the nighttime scenes, the design of the house, the choice to make lucy wear blue all the time, the stupid little uniforms that kipps and his guys wear, the design of the ghosts, the dream sequence in like episode 2 (?), the red room, etc.

also i called joplin being bad from the second she opened her mouth, i think it was the music that clued me in. hate her. the show did a great job making me extremely uncomfortable when she was around.

i love lockwood. asshole in a suit, and he's got trauma that causes him to be cold and arrogant and distant? sign me the fuck up! he looks good with his own blood running down his face (and i can say that bc his actor is 20)

i knew norrie was gonna die (or something similar) the moment they started talking about future plans in ep 1. still broke me when it happened. the 3 years earlier sequence was probably the most intense introduction to what i thought was gonna be a somewhat typical ya tv show i've ever seen

love that the show doesn't pretend to be self aware, and in fact leans into a lot of tropes and clichés bc it works! if they were too afraid to be seen as too cheesy it would've ruined the whole show, so i'm really glad they weren't

flo <3

i really like the writing. it felt very natural to go from one arc to another, the characters felt tangible, their actions completely within reason for who they are and what they've been through. could've fleshed out winkman (?) a little. he felt a little flat, though maybe he'll make a comeback in another season

they're fucking children. this whole world is fucked. they make children fight fucking ghosts. fucked up world. hope that if they make more seasons this will be addressed in depth. they hinted at it here and there, but i need them to have a full a-plot conflict about it. i haven't read the books but i'm assuming this is a thing that happens in them (and if not they really fumbled the bag)

sorry thinking about flo again.....

thinking about lockwood again. he needs to be bashed in the skull with a 2x4. maybe that'll make him normal. i love him <3

god george reminds me of michael from be more chill. no clue if you've seen it, or listened to the soundtrack, but they're the same person

since we're on the topic of george, that guy is so fucking autistic holy shit! so is flo. autistic in two different directions

i'll probably have more thoughts in a few days, once i've allowed myself to process the show in it's entirety. meanwhile enjoy... whatever this is :3

yessss!!!! so glad you enjoyed it, i'm literally so insane about it at the moment!

all the stuff about the costumes and set design and lighting is just like!!! hell yeah!! we can actually see at night, which is great because that's when the majority of it's set

the characters are all so so great and i love them and they have so much depth and interesting things about them!!! have you picked up on lockwood's socks yet? they start off pink and then as the series progresses they go to blue to match with lucy!!!

and the world building!!!!! you've probably gathered by now that i'm a sucker for good world building and this show!!!!!! has it!!!!! i really fuckin hope we get another season so we can see more of it (but also i'm gonna read the books soon so i'll know if the shit's all addressed)

george is so so autistic. and i get what you mean about flo, very true tbh

how did you feel about the slow burn romance? because i'm obsessed with it! how their hands always touch for a little too long etc

also i can fix kipps. yep. i can make him better. he grew on me towards the end and now i love him. pathetic man. falls exactly in my type

AND YES!! the intro shit was so!!!!! it was just!!! ahhh!!! norrie and lucy 100% had some gay shit going on. and it was so tragic and ajaavqghshshshs

the skull!!! i love/hate it! it's just so funny and silly and evil and manipulative!

and yeah with joplin i had a feeling from when she started talking with george. i was literally calling out 'grooming! grooming moment!' whenever she was with george. and the ending with the bone glass!!!! omg i went insane!

the winkman shit was terrifying, especially the auction. literally gave me goosebumps. but it was all worth it for the locklyle scene with lucy calming him down when he had a panic attack!

anyway as you can tell i'm not normal about this show

[themayersource]

7 DAYS, 7 LOOKS.

“I have my days when I like to be a little more feminine, a little more adult. And then I have my days when I like to be a little more of a kid,” announces Aniyah Marshall in a white robe, socks and slippers before taking Vogue for a week in her wardrobe for the inaugural episode of Vogue’s newest video series, 7 Days, 7 Looks. Although they have the range of elegant to casual, Marshall’s clothes consistently capture the spirit of fall 2020. Appropriately, she starts Monday in gray sweatpants and ends the week with an equally comfortable, but dressed, matching satin set for Sunday dinner at home.

Marshall’s dominance in outerwear shines through his appearance, and almost all clothes are punctuated with a coat or blazer worthy of a statement. In a blessing for style experts and neophytes, Marshall has some tips on how to wear jackets to take your wardrobe to the next level. Wearing an impressive number of red Saint Laurent wool, Marshall explains that she sizes the overcoats, “first of all to look cozy”, but also to make room for well-loved sweaters. Wednesday’s “business chic” look combines a Jacquemus knitted bra and a large Magda Butrym blazer with a tight waist - an easy way to get a more flattering fit, explains Marshall. As for the date night, a layered black Marina Moscone blazer over a strapless black minidress effortlessly elevates the look. “In fact, it reaches a very similar length to the dress, and I think it brings a nice little advantage to the outfit,” she says.

Your casual Saturday outfit, however, is the most pertinent of all. Wearing Natasha Zinko’s perfectly large jeans, a cozy Mango polo sweater and white Nike Air Force 1s, Marshall completes the look with a baseball hat printed with “I’m a voter”. “I hope you’re registered. I hope you go out and vote. It’s so important. Please do that,” she says. With Election Day just a few days away, it’s the most important fashion statement out there.

[jonthegiraffe]

Virtual Sketchbook 2 assignment

1.

Unity- Unity is to have identical shared traits with a thing. For example, in my room, my wall is a warm color throughout but that's it. There are not two colors but one.

Variety- It is to have different traits from other things. For example, in a dirty laundry bin, there will be a variety of different types of apparel like pants, socks, and shirts. Each of them also has a variety of colors and patterns on them.

Balance- It can be achieved through symmetry or asymmetry according to the book though personally, I find it to be more synonymous with symmetry rather than asymmetry. For something to be symmetrical, it must have matching sides. For example, A classical guitar has matching sides. Asymmetry is unequal sides or forms. An example of this could be the painting, The Great Wave of Kanagawa.

Emphasis and subordination- Emphasis refers to a focal point. It is something that draws your attention. For example, if you are looking at a portrait, usually the face is the focal point. Subordination is the act of categorizing less interesting areas of the painting. In The Last Supper, the background is of lesser importance than the main figures

Directional force- It is the paths of the art piece that direct your eye to certain parts of the painting.  In a real-life example, you might look at the end of a long street. The directional force is going to go through the end of the road.

Repetition- is a set frequency of visual elements in a painting. An example of this could be identical houses in a neighborhood

Rhythm: A way to create repetition is rhythm and to have repeated variations of things and also the visual flow of an art piece like The Starry Night by Van Gogh.

Scale- the size of a thing compared to another thing. For example, the size of myself compared to a kitten.

Proportion- The size of any of parts to a whole. For example, the size of a person's eyes compared to their face.

The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo Buonarroti on 3.8 in the book

2.

Focal point: The focal point is the space between the space of Gods and Adams forefingers.

Implied lines: The arms of Gods and Adams.

Color contrast: The body of God including the red cloth that's around Him and the  body of Adam including the green grass that he sits on are all warm colors which are contrasting the cool colors in the background.

3.

The last question is a tough one. I think The colors I would have are definitely green and orange. Green to me represents life and health and orange represents happiness. I think I would also add red because I am at that part of my life where there is definitely more stress than usual.

4. Spoilers for The Dark Tower by Stephen King

This is a painting I made with gouache. Now I know I said spoilers but Roland reaching the dark tower is the whole premise of the book series. Of course, he was going to make it. I am really passionate about stories and the characters. Roland showed bravery, resilience, and stoicism but also had some fun during his journey however slight it might have been. The best way to describe the story in a few words would be an interdimensional cowboy odyssey. I also found it to be heartwarming how he paid respect to all the people who helped and it definitely gave me goosebumps and put a huge smile on my face due to the power of the words. He also has the kindness to help other people.

This is another painting I made for the assignment

This is Ellie Williams from the Last of Us video game series. I know technically I did not have to put another painting but I just wanted to talk about it. Ellie shows also a lot of resilience in the games like Roland though she does end up with PTSD but still finds the strength to keep finding the strength to locate the source of her pain.

5.

List of logos around my room

Swiss army knife logo

Playstations logo

Alisa Chung/squid art logo

Switch logo

Apple logo

Lego logo

Logitech logo

Steam logo

I know about these logos because they have been around me for all or at least a large portion of my life. It also has to do with the fact that some of these logos are related to my hobbies which is also why I am familiar with them like PlayStation. How do I understand the value of these logos? It is from the viewpoint of the customer that the value is most prominent. A good logo can differentiate you in a marketplace like a mall. For example, Apple has a simple yet effective logo because of the status of the brand of technology they have.

The reply I made to another student. Note: I made the reply to a student in another group because I was the first person in my group to make a post on the night the assignment was due so I just replied to a student in another group because I had other homework to do and forgot about it.

Reply:

Hello Aiden. I noticed you added an interactive logo whereas I only discussed business or studio logos which I thought was very interesting for you to do. I have not ever used Spotify but I mostly have used YouTube for music because it is free but not free if you're out of the house using up data. YouTube is the logo I am most familiar with though I noticed over long periods, the logos changed. For example. The YouTube logo used to be a Television for the app.