#also i layered two hairs on her? idk if this would work for anything else ever but these two just so happened to lay nicely together

[dejasenti99]

x

[quaranmine]

OH THE TOP LAYERS OF MY HAIR USED TO LOOK LIKE THAT. BOTTOM LAYER WAS SUPER CURLY. OK SO tricks.

first off: wadah when ya brush. tons of it. so much water. get urself a spray bottle and go juju on that beat

second off: that one guy in the comments was right, leave-in conditioner Does Help but i was a messy little kid and never did anything fun with my hair ever so i forget what it did except for make my hair feel weird and slippery

ive also never used heat on my hair ever so idk what to do there

uhhhhhhhhh what else. oh yeah i wore ponytails So Much but as for keeping my hair down? idk? shit just sorta happened?

i got my hair cut short like two years ago and then like two weeks ago i got the sides shaved so safe to say it's been a while but yeah. usually my full Curl only happened after a LOT of primping and preening and mostly just on the shorter bottom layer. it got way curlier when i got it cut cos there wasnt all that extra hair hanging down

also jt looks great on you whoa :0 hope this helped a little akdksdbwb!!

OH! THANK YOU! i should try a spray bottle, it's definitely always more wavy after being wet. I debated tossing a photo into that post that was just a photo of me an hour or two after being drenched in a rainstorm LOL

and yeah i might take moss's advice about leave in conditioner, i've never used it. i worry it would make my hair look greasy, mostly. I know Ulta will let you return used products so I might try a few things from there to see if it works. also yeah i only mentioned heat as something i don't want to do, i used to do it a lot in high school. it didn't ruin my hair or anything but i'd rather not run the risk

i'm getting my hair done again today for the first time since july so it will be returned to its true and rightful form: medium-short, above my shoulders. i do not like my hair long and it's been too long for my liking for a few months now lsdjfkslfjs. last time was my first time using this hair stylist and she cut my hair as if it were curly and tbh the results were great--I think the extra layering and stuff worked for me very well (the top two photos were taken like a week after the cut, the bottom two are what it looks like now). i think my old stylist acknowledged my hair was wavy, but didn't really cut it any different.

So I'll see if she can do the same type of cut again and what her recommendations are today! also thank you for the compliment :D

[shakapuffin]

Alert episode 4 promo!

Alert 1x03 “Zoey” Review

my thoughts on the lastest episode, episode 3 “Zoey”

- i liked it as much as, if not a bit more, than the first two episodes… still some obvious questions and hiccups. idk why but this episode seemed a bit more structured… maybe it was because C wasn’t there lol!

- i still want to find out more about Keith, like i know they’re gonna drag his whole storyline out but how do we still not know anything about where he’s been the past 6 years?! or better yet how does no one else question him harder on where he was. i get that jason tried to talk to him in the beginning but i want to see a full on convo, not just a few minutes. i want to see more scenes with the whole family together, interacting. idk that’s probably just me tho.

- i totally understand why Sydney wanted a lock on her door, but I didn’t understand why Nikki thought it was weird. I’m happy Jason wanted her to have one if she felt safer, but it made no sense for Nikki to say no since it’s her daughter and she hasn’t seen her supposed brother in six years. it still confuses me why they haven’t taken Keith to a hospital or a therapist to get checked out, especially because they’re law enforcement officers and they deal with missing persons and it’s consequences every day.  Also, I get that they want Keith to be back in school to get back o normal but I’m still not sure how long has it been since he’s been found. If it’s been a couple of weeks or even a month or two, then I understand but if it’s only been a week or two, I don’t know why they want him to rush into school that quickly. It’s just crazy to me that the parents are already back at work and I assume Keith is left home alone? I also really liked the use of Beowulf in the underlined narrative of that story between Sydney and Keith. it added another interesting layer.

- I’m sorry but the whole scene between Nikki and Mike doing a quickie in the supply closet was just so weird to me. Like why was there a need to put that into the episode, like I get that it’ll add characterization for Nikki and Mike and it’s a good way for them to reconnect, but not at work in the middle of a missing persons case where the girl could very well either be dead, or about to die. No law-enforcement officials would ever ever do that on a workday. It doesn’t matter if Nikki is the head of the missing persons unit, Zoey’s parents put their trust in her and even if there was a few extra minutes they could’ve been doing other things to progress the case besides that. Also, they only had 10 minutes! Really really odd writing choice. save that for the end or beginning of the episode when there’s no life or death situation.

- okay so I’m really confused on Kemi. She literally offered to rub eggs on Zoe’s parents to catch all the vibes/feelings? I’m still confused what happened like I just don’t understand. I saw her purpose on the team a little bit more in this episode, she’s really good at breaking down pictures and finding where they are located. I just don’t understand some of her references, like who is she? haha! Apparently she’s been married 12 times? Sometimes some of the things she says are just so out of pocket it’s insane and it doesn’t relate to the case whatsoever.

- I thought the structure was better this episode with a few blips but overall a bit of an improvement from the first two. That being said, I thought this weeks missing persons case was very dark, creepy and low-key disturbing. I get it stuff like this can happen, but it was pretty surprising for that subject matter to be on a network television show. Overall, I think the case made sense in terms of storytelling maybe a few improvements on the shallow dialogue at the end and throughout, but that’s it.

- now that i know the parents had keith’s baby hair in the baby book, they should’ve had a DNA test right when he got home. i get that they don’t want keith to think they don’t trust him but they just have to do it, especially when they’re daughter is repeatedly telling them she doesn’t feel safe. they are law enforcement, they know the importance of a DNA test. it’s weird that they’re avoiding it.

- I thought Scott Caan was really good this week, per usual, i liked his literal leap into action to tackle the creepy guy away from Zoey. dania ramirez was good too, i like her catchphrase of ‘finding our babies’ but i hope nikki doesn’t overuse it because it can become old very fast. i liked adeola role, her character continues to confuse me but she’s great, as well as ryan broussard!

anyways that’s just my opinion for the week! i’m excited for the next episode, the promo looks good! still happy that scott’s back on the screen! what did you guys think? let me know, i luv talking!!

[teratalia]

Alien girlfriend x reader

I wrote a short little snippet from this writing prompt from the wonderful @monsterkinkmeme and I ended up expanding on it!! Listen, I created this alien girl just for this prompt but now I love her. I love her so much,, constructive criticism and comments are always welcome, it's my first time posting something like this :)

Quick notes: oblivious/dense fem reader, very lemony yet fluffy, let's call it lemon candy? lemon sweets? idk? (fingering, tribadism) 

“Aleya? Would you come here for a moment?” you call out. You don’t have to wait long before you’re joined by your new lab partner.

“Yes?” Her voice, quiet and airy, reaches you before she does. She leans over your shoulder, squinting curiously at your workstation with eyes lacking both sclera and pupil, just sky blue irises.

Her midnight blue skin fades to black at her humanoid forearms and shins, and she ties her long purple hair into her usual braid with two out of four arms. White star-like freckles are scattered over her face and body, and she looks like she creates new constellations with every move she makes.

“Sit, sit,“ you urge, patting her back. Aleya hesitates for just a second before doing so.

“Look at the reaction this plant gives.“ Very gently, you stroke it with a gloved hand. Its petals flutter and then open wide, revealing another layer of petals that are closed tight.

“Last time I tried that, the inner part still would not open.“

“Yes, but watch this.”

Carefully, you run your fingertips over certain petals in a sequence that took you hours to find. Finally the inner petals open to reveal a colorful ball-like fruit, not unlike a mandarin, which the flower leans over and gently deposits on the table before sealing up the layers of petals again.

Instead of watching the flower, you watch Aleya’s face. Unlike humans, her kind doesn’t tend to show much by way of facial expressions, but her eyes widen slightly and her braided hair undoes itself and winds around in a twist before untwisting and twisting all over again.

“That’s incredible. We’ve got to study this fruit immediately.“ Her tone also doesn’t change, but you swear you can hear an undercurrent of excitement. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

“Thanks! But before that, I want to take a break. Care to join me?” You stand, slowly stretching out limbs sore from disuse and discarding your gloves. She agrees, her stocky frame barely reaching your shoulder.

You beam and pat her on the back, running your thumb over the exposed skin there affectionately as you guide her away. She shudders and her braid comes undone just a bit.

“Are you okay?”

Aleya nods jerkily, braid slowly retying itself.

Humans call her people the Astra because of the characteristic star freckles and deep galaxy-colored skin. You're still learning about her, and she about you as well. You could never truly tell if she was happy to work with you or not, but you liked to think she was content. This assignment almost felt like being roommates with a cat that seemed aloof, but would come up to you quietly for affection. Aleya seemed to like the affection, or at least hadn't said anything to the contrary.

Seated in the kitchen, you gather some snacks and munch away. Aleya doesn't need to eat as much as you do, and only eats human food to be polite. For her snack, she grabs a pressurized bottle of hydrogen-helium mix and sips like it's water.

"I am quite pleased with your progress today," she says, almost making you drop your drink. She almost never speaks to you first, so you're eager to keep her talking.

"Did you expect that little fruit?" you reply excitedly. She actually smiles back at you, small lips curving up.

"I did not. Is something wrong?"

"No, no. I didn't think Astra really smiled, is all."

"We do not. I have noticed that it is something you do when you are happy, and assumed it was a human thing. Is it not?"

You blink at her, then beam. "You would be right. I have to say, I'm flattered that you're noticing things about me."

Very briefly, her star freckles on her cheeks turn pale pink, but turn back to white so quickly that you're sure you imagined it.

Aleya tilts her head down, toying with her bottle. "Is it not customary to learn more about one's lab partner?" Her hair falls forward, hiding her face.

"Of course it is! I can't believe how nervous I was when I was assigned to work with you. It's been such a pleasure so far."

Her hair curls up to obscure her face even more, and the exposed freckles on her shoulders turn pink. It might be out of curiosity, to tease her, or a mix of both, but you make a guess out loud.

"You're very cute when you're embarrassed, Aleya. You don't have to be embarrassed."

The pink sparkle brightens and you giggle as her hair nearly cocoons her upper body, hiding her whole face and torso from sight. Only the faint glow of her pale blue eyes and pink freckles shine through.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop. Come on, don't hide." Reaching out, you pat around where the top of her head should be. Her hair slowly unfurls and flows down her back as she glares up at you under your hand.

"Must you make such jokes?" she grumbles quietly.

"Sorry, Aleya. I do mean what I said though. You're very cute."

Sliding your hand down her hair, you pat her back like always. She lets out a shaky sigh, hair twisting around itself and eyes narrowing, hands squeezing around her bottle. Frowning, you snatch your hand away, making her look up at you again.

"I really am sorry," you repeat more slowly. "I don't like making you uncomfortable, and I also don't like the thought that you might be forcing yourself to adjust to human customs."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Humans tend to like physical touch, but I've been so inconsiderate because I don't know if you like it. I never realized how distressed you look when I touch you so casually. I'm sorry. I just, I need a bit."

Discarding the empty food wrappers, you hurry off to your room, dropping down onto the pillows and leaning against the headboard. You can't shake the feeling that you've been royally messing up with Aleya, and maybe she was just pretending to be comfortable around you. If casual touch is something that the Astra don't do, you might have been subjecting her to something really awful. It just made you want to apologize all over again.

A knock on the door draws you out of your spiraling thoughts. When you don't reply, the knock grows louder and more insistent.

"Come in."

Aleya slips into your room and shuts the door behind her. Her hair is curled up as if with giant rollers, huge curls rolling and unrolling in constant, restless motion. Her star freckles are an odd shade of orange that you haven't seen before.

With a sigh, you indicate the rest of the bed next to you. "You can sit, if you want."

Aleya perches on the bed, actively trying to suppress the movement of her hair with two hands. The other two are folded in her lap.

"I need to apologize to you," she starts, holding up one hand when you try to protest. "You deserve to know some truth about Astra. About me. Yes, the touching is quite foreign to me, but it didn't actually make me uncomfortable."

"You're sure?" All that shivering and hair unfurling seemed to indicate otherwise…

"Why do you think I have been wearing a lot of clothing that exposes my back and my shoulders?"

"You weren't just too warm in the lab?" Finally you let yourself relax. The star freckles are no longer that strange orange, but now they’re turning pink. "Is there something else you need to tell me?"

"Touching my back the way you do, it…" The curls in her hair seem to multiply as she struggles to speak.

You take a second to think, and feel your heart nearly stop. "…That wouldn't be an erogenous zone for you, would it?"

Aleya nods jerkily, refusing to make eye contact with you.

The first thing you feel is shock, followed closely by horror and embarrassment. "I'm so, so sorry. I had no idea."

She shakes her head, still silent.

Then you pause. The clothing she wears. Could that possibly be…and if so, did you want…?

You take a deep, shaky breath.

"Maybe I should let you in on a human secret," you say quietly, unable to believe the very words coming out of your mouth. "Different humans may have different erogenous zones, but a common one is the neck. Specifically, if one were to kiss and bite there…" Shrugging off your lab coat and letting it fall to the ground, you tilt your head away from her. Uncertainty practically radiates off Aleya, but slowly, slowly, she leans in and presses her lips to your neck. You sigh contentedly, tension easing out of your body and hers. The wild curls in her hair start to calm, flowing into waves down her back as she backs away and looks up at you.

Placing one hand on her shoulder, you lightly smooth your fingers over her skin, and she smiles a little, pink fading out of her freckles. Emboldened, you lift your other hand as well.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do," you murmur, caressing her shoulders, fingers dancing over sparkling purple freckles.

Aleya moans, leaning into your touch. "I-I would like to do this with you. It just feels different…I am not used to such physical expressions. Astra intercourse is more like a melding of minds rather than bodies, and I'd like to share that with you…"

You're not entirely sure what she means, but you nod as she draws closer, wrapping both sets of arms around you, her hair flowing over your shoulders. Locks of her hair caress your cheeks, sliding down over your collarbone, sparking something new deep in your chest. You gasp, feeling this unusual yet intimate warmth within you, realizing that it's her pleasure you're feeling. The more your fingers move over her back, the more the warmth grows.

"Oh, wow," is all you can say.

Aleya giggles. "I think it's easier to tell when you feel good, like so, perhaps…" Leaning forward, she pulls up your shirt and slips her fingers under your bra, cupping your chest. Her fingertips tease over your nipples and you grin, simply tugging your clothing off to allow better access. She just stares at your chest for a moment, eyes wider than usual, before reaching to pinch your nipples. Biting your lip, you discard the rest of your clothes and wait for her to do the same.

Aleya doesn't have much by way of a chest, but her belly protrudes, matching her chubby arms and thick thighs. The star freckles are scattered at random across her skin, some looking like complete connected constellations, some just clusters of stars, all gorgeous.

Clothes finally off, you press her against the headboard and lean forward, giving her plenty of time to turn away. She reaches forward to meet you, kissing you awkwardly. You smile against her lips, guiding her, teaching her how to move her lips, how to avoid clinking teeth. She's a fast learner, because of course she is, and before long you're melting into her kiss, letting out little moans as she holds you close.

It's intoxicating, the way her pleasure matches yours. Her tongue tastes like raspberries, of all things.

Slowly, you slide your hand down her chest, down her belly rolls, finding your goal between her legs. Seems her anatomy is similar to yours, after all. She's already slick, her wetness sucking your fingers in. Aleya trembles, gripping your shoulders and crying out. Some of her freckles turn pink as she presses her lips together.

"God, you're cute." Running your other hand over her shoulders, you thrust your fingers in and out of her heat, craving that sound again. "Don't hold back, I want to hear you."

Looking like she wants to keep quiet, Aleya actually bites her lip. You lightly scratch down her back in retaliation, finally making her shout again. She arches her whole body into yours, moaning with abandon as you add a second and third finger inside her. Your thumb slides up to the top of her seam only to find that she doesn't have a clitoris, but it doesn't matter.

The glowing feelings in your chest swell, threatening to burst.

Aleya gazes up at you through fluttering eyelids, pushing her hips against your hand, silently begging you not to stop. And who are you to deny her release? To deny her anything, really?

You press your lips to her ear, the subtly tart scent of her hair wafting over you, curls tickling your cheek. "You're close, aren't you?" Voice low, almost raspy, just above a whisper yet still enticing. "I can feel it…come for me, Aleya…"

Clutching at you like a lifeline, arching her back, she cries out, walls fluttering around your fingers. Gently you pull your fingers out of that tight heat, whispering soothing words to her as she comes down from the high. The warmth cools down slightly, not fully extinguished just yet.

Aleya pants, staring at you in dazed awe. Impulsively, you bring your still soaking fingers to your lips, tasting raspberry alcohol.

"You taste amazing." You mean it, too.

Narrowing her eyes, she suddenly flips the two of you over, pulling you down to rest on your pillows and straddling your waist.

"Humans can also feel that, right? That release?"

"We call it an orgasm, and yes."

Aleya's grin is devilish. "Then we shall have one together."

One pair of hands plays over your breasts, fondling your nipples, while the other set slides down to pet your thighs. Moving back, she fits herself between your legs and spreads your thighs, looking down to your dripping pussy. You'd almost forgotten your own arousal in favor of hers, but now that all the attention was on it…you squirm, fidgeting under her intense gaze.

"So are you just gonna stare or do you want to try something?" you ask weakly.

"Even now, you still make demands," she giggles. Her upper pair of hands absentmindedly pinches your nipples while she thinks. "This is different. What's this…?"

Aleya circles your clit with one finger, and you moan at the slight friction. "Th-that's called a clitoris, um, it's very sensitive, so please…"

She gently strokes your clit with her thumb, slipping other fingers inside you in the same way you had done for her. Encouraging her with little gasps and moans, you hold onto her upper hands still resting on her breasts.

Silently she pulls her fingers out and other hands away, leaning back and readjusting her legs. Before you can ask what she's doing, she pushes your hips apart a little more, sliding one leg underneath yours and swinging the other leg over your hip.

You freeze, raising your eyebrows. "Huh? Where'd you learn how to do this?"

"Just thought it'd feel nice, and it looks like I'm right, yes?" She pushes her hips against yours, rolling them together. You can't help but agree with a breathy moan, head falling back against the pillows as you clutch fistfuls of the bedsheets.

Her body feels different from yet so similar to a human's, soft skin grinding against yours, long hair cascading down over you, strands caressing your sides. One thick strand pulls your leg up, hooking it over her shoulder.

"H-how are you so good at this?" you groan, closing your eyes, hearing a soft chuckle as the only response.

Aleya pauses her hip movements, making you open your eyes, pout already forming on your lips. She reaches for you with both sets of hands, pulling you up to sit in her lap with your legs still intertwined, lower set of hands sliding down to pull your hips forward to meet hers once more.

"God, yes." Wrapping your hands around her shoulders, you slowly drag your hands down her back, watching as her back arches and her lips part in a silent cry. You pull her closer, closer, hoping to taste raspberries again.

From the warmth growing in your chest and the way Aleya just pants into your open mouth, you can tell she's close, and so are you.

"Together," she gasps, pushing one hand down between your bodies. Her fingers press down on your clit, rubbing quick circles. Bucking your hips, you come undone with a shout, feeling the warmth in your chest swell and burst. All four of Aleya's hands dig into your back as she pulls you close, body trembling, hazy gaze meeting yours.

As one, your bodies crash down onto the bedsheets, limbs and hair tangling. Slowly Aleya shifts you both to face each other, a strand of her hair stroking your cheek as the feeling in your chest fades away, leaving comforting contentment in its wake.

After a moment of watching your face, she says, "Now I wish I had confessed sooner."

Eyebrows shooting up into your hairline, you laugh, whole body shaking. "To be fair, it's not just your fault," you say between giggles. "I should've noticed that something was off. It's fine now, right?"

She smiles softly, star freckles going back to regular white. "Yes, it is."

You bite your lip before adding, "I have to say, now I think there's a certain kind of drink I want to have more often. I should fix myself a raspberry cocktail sometime."

"What does that mean?" Aleya merely blinks at you, sky blue eyes narrowing as you start laughing all over again.

[joonkorre]

(love) is a heartache

@drarrymicrofic prompt: hope is a heartache - léon

let it be known that harry goes through life purely on vibes. half of his reasons why for every decision at his big age are “idk imma just hope for the best”

ao3

People’s hearts twinge sometimes. For Draco, he can barely remember the last time he doesn’t have these twinges. It’s pretty normal at this point.

“No, it’s not,” Pansy says. She’s a Healer, so she’s probably right. But Draco prefers to ignore that.

“Leave it be,” Draco murmurs, lips against her scalp, “I’m fine. Say, are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah. You want to go somewhere?”

“Mm. Sleep.”

They go out the next morning, Pansy in thick makeup and Draco practically drunk under nine layers of Charms. The air is a bit humid, which seems to get worse when the bustling street intensifies in volume into a roaring din. Pansy pulls him under an awning, yanking at his sleeve a bit to try out her disgusting sugary coffee. She always does this whenever she wants to take his attention away from something, which means he just has to look at exactly where she’s doesn’t want him to. As his lips wrap around her lipstick-stained straw, he glances up.

Across the street, a couple strolls through a gushing crowd. Fiery red hair, airy laughter, a pale arm wrapped around her fiancé’s waist. Curls of black, sleek spectacles, a protective palm on his fiancee’s shoulder. They make the perfect picture, a vibrant oil painting. Their existence is formed from bold strokes of sunlight and starburst kisses, with the focal point being a shock of phthalo green and cadmium lemon, two minute specks that make all the difference. As all good paintings do, they pin the viewer on the spot, as if the viewer himself is a thing to behold. Then they shift away.

The exhibit moves forward and out of sight. It’s closing time, the viewer has overstayed his welcome.

Something leaps in Draco’s chest and splatters on the floor of his stomach. Placing her hand over his heart, Pansy frowns at him. She doesn’t ask why Potter stared at someone who looked like a stranger to him. Only tells him to start finding answers.

Months later, on the most awaited day in recent Wizarding history, there’s a knock on Draco’s door.

He throws on a sweater, and a throw, too, for good measure. Ambling to the door, he checks the mail slot before peeking through the peephole. Nobody but a package is outside. Draco hums and unlocks his door, crouching down the moment it opens. What feels like soft satin brushes against his cheek, cool and smooth. With a flash, a pair of shiny dress shoes appear before him.

“Draco.”

Draco peers up as he rises, hands around the package. Potter has his maddening Invisibility Cloak slung over his arm, his roguish charm heightened by a perfectly fitted three-piece suit. A tiny posy is pinned on his left lapel, muted green hellebores with a few sprigs of privet berries. He’s dressed like a man in love.

Draco feels something he hasn’t felt in months at the sight. He’s trained himself to suppress it the moment it showed itself and has been relatively successful until now. The sting, without warning, bursts from within his chest, calling forth a slight wince. Potter’s brows furrow.

"How do you know where I live?"

“How long has this been going on?”

Draco frowns. “Pardon?”

“That,” Potter gestures at Draco’s chest. “The heartache.”

He rears back. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? At Potter’s unchanging expression, Draco shoves his hair out of his face with a quiet huff and puts a hand on the doorknob.

“It’s none of your business. Please leave.”

“It is, actually,” Potter stops the closing door with one arm.

“Excuse me? We haven't had a proper conversation in more than a decade and suddenly you want to act like we're friends? Leave, now.”

“Listen to me. How can it not be my business when I feel it, too?”

“Check with a Healer, then. If you can put past grudges aside, I can hand you Pansy Parkinson’s business card,” Draco grits through his teeth, pushing against the door with his entire body, his throw slipping to the ground.

“Draco, stop, I already know, stop.”

“Know what? No, I don't care. Leave at once, else I’d alert the Aurors.”

A rough slam sends Draco staggering back. Potter pants, hard lines on his face. His chest heaves under his crisp white shirt, its top two buttons unclasped, and he steps over the threshold, closing the door.

“You think they’d believe you?”

The pain shoots from his chest to the rest of his body, and for several seconds, his lungs wouldn’t work. He whips his head away from Potter, who groans and sags against the wall.

“I told you to leave.”

“I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing to say,” Potter says immediately, sweat dotting his temples.

After an uncomfortable pause, clearing his throat, he picks up the near-forgotten package from the carpet. His hand feels around the outline of the object within, rectangular and heavy. Glancing at Draco, he says hoarsely. “I know why you bought this book.”

“Know this, know that, you know nothing,” Draco lunges forward, only for Potter to twist out of the way and raise the package out of his reach.

“The Life-long Burden of Dark Curses: A Caution by Elise Arrowlane, limited edition,” he says, unbothered by Draco’s slackened jaw. “You ordered it from the new bookstore on Diagon months ago. You were small and old and grey, but I recognized you. I always could.”

“Okay,” Draco sneers, “so you’re a stalker. Old news. Anything else?”

“There’s no need to order one. I would’ve borrowed it from Hermione if you had only asked,” Potter says. “Instead, I got curious and read it for myself. That’s how I connected the dots about the heartache, how I realized we’ve both had it since that day years ago.”

“Oh, the day you slashed me into ribbons and almost cut through my heart?” Draco clenches his jaw.

Being able to shout this ugly kind of truth into the perpetrator’s face feels oddly liberating. That is, if liberation also comes with a specific kind of agony that makes Draco want to fall to his knees.

“Dark Magic leaves a mark on both the wizard and their victim, doesn’t it? No need for a book to tell us that,” Potter says, the harsh afternoon glow of him gentled by the soft lamplight in Draco’s hallway. “In certain cases, it even leaves a link. A connection.”

Draco bites the inside of his cheek and looks away. The only consequence from that horrid night was his fucked up heart and nothing else, nothing at all. Whatever Potter is insinuating, he hates it. He hates this. He hates him.

“How are you so sure there’s a connection.”

“I wasn’t,” Potter says. “The Healers said it’s a health thing I developed after the War and I just needed to avoid strenuous activity. I didn’t think much of it, but then I read the book and realized that it usually flared up whenever you watched me.”

Scoffing, Draco turns and stalks into the kitchen. Walking past the boiling kettle, he throws a cabinet door open and grabs a mug, his hand trembling.

“Interesting how my health suffers when I see the bastard who quite literally carved me open.”

“I was eating dinner when I thought I was going to die of a heart attack at 23,” Potter continues. Draco pulls the drawers out, unable to find a single bag of tea for several excruciating moments. “The next day, I was reading about your mother’s death on the Daily Prophet. That was the first sign.”

Grabbing a rag and wetting it, Draco wipes the countertop even as he’s just done so last night.

“When Ginny saw you on the street during our date and extended her hand toward you, you shook it. But your heart ached.

“I saw you looking at the picture of Ginny and I kissing on the front page of Witch Weekly. Your hair was brown and your back was curved, but I saw you. Your heart ached.

“When I announced my engagement to her on the Battle of Hogwarts’s 10th Anniversary, you were clapping along with everyone else. But your heart ached.”

Draco throws the rag on the counter. The kettle whistles, a piercing sound. “What’s your point? Are you here purely to flaunt your relationship and imply that I’m in love with Ginevra Weasley? If so, I got it. Thank you so very much, it’s been enlightening. Now get out.”

“The point is,” Potter says, lifting the kettle off the burner to pour it into Draco’s mug, placing his tea bag in, “unless the article about you being gay was wrong, Ginny isn’t the one you’re in love with.”

“What arti—” Draco stops. “That was years ago.”

His sexuality was leaked to some irrelevant gossip rag, not even making the front page. Nobody noticed, nothing changed, and it hasn’t entered his mind in what feels like forever until Potter reminds him.

“I remember.”

“You—” Draco frowns. His eyes strain on the cup of tea until they hurt. He squeezes them shut, sighing. “It doesn’t prove anything. Perhaps I’m jealous of my childhood nemesis having a better life than me, ever thought of that?”

“Yeah,” Potter says, “I’ve thought about this a lot. Which is why I’m here. To make sure.”

Draco takes it in, then, unable to help himself, curls his lips at Potter and his attire. At his artfully gelled hair, his hanging bow tie, the elegant boutonniere on the lapel of his dark blue suit. His empty ring finger.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a better date to make sure? Preferably before your wedding day?”

Potter steps closer. A respectable distance away, but closer.

“I could’ve, but I spent most of those days in denial. Then the dots connected and I couldn’t deny it anymore, so I decided to just go through with the wedding regardless, be with the woman I loved. Hoped that maybe the odd emotions I had would go away,” he shrugs, raising his eyes to meet Draco’s. “Saw Ginny at the end of the aisle and, well, I couldn’t stop thinking that it should’ve been someone else. All this time, I’ve thought that she didn’t feel… right in my arms, but I pushed it down. And there she was in that white dress.

“Seeing that today was the last straw. I had to leave.”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat. Swallowing it down, he grabs his mug, scooping out the tea bag just to have something to do. He takes a sip without blowing, ignoring its scalding heat.

“That was stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Draco can feel a headache building. “That was a horrible decision. I never imagined you—you!—out of all people, could be this irresponsible. What the fuck.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Merlin, that poor fucking woman. If your purpose here is to make me feel bad for Ginevra and all 300 of her relatives for once in my life, you’ve succeeded, congratulations.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that to me, say that to—oh, you’d do what you want no matter what I say, wouldn’t you?”

“Depends on the situation.”

“‘Depends on the situation,’ he says,” Draco mocks, getting a carton of milk from the fridge to save his bitter, bitter tea. Potter doesn’t reply. Stirring the milk in, Draco lets out a heavy sigh.

“What do you want me to do about this?” He says. “I didn’t make you run out of your own wedding. If you expect me to take the blame for your inane decisions, the first person I Floo wouldn’t be the Aurors, but Ginevra Weasley herself.”

A small smile graces Potter’s lips. “I don’t expect anything from you but honesty.”

Draco squints.

“And how will you know if what I say is a lie? Will you reject my genuine answer if it’s not what you want to hear?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Potter says. “I trust your heart will speak the truth for us both.”

There’s a pang in Draco’s chest, and judging from the twitch of Potter’s brow, he can feel it too. Not another word is said, the two men merely facing each other from across a tiny kitchen, considering. Draco can feel the warmth of sunlight beaming through the little window and coating his nape as he leans against the sink, earl grey on his tongue. Lovely citric notes of bergamot drift up his nose. He closes his eyes. What to do, what to do.

Weightless oxfords clack against the yellowed tiles, clear and bright in Draco’s ears. Fabric rustles as Potter slips a hand into his pocket only to retrieve it a second later. Draco lets himself be cornered, barely glancing at the wool-clad arms caging either side of his waist. A clink catches his attention, however, and he tilts his head to the left.

Millimeters beside Draco’s hand on the counter, glinting in the sun, is a wedding band. Draco knows Potter and Ginevra’s in and out, has examined the picture on that day’s issue of the Daily Prophet more times than he should have. He knows the marquise droplets of Ginevra’s gems and the chevron curve of her ring, the blankness of Potter’s own band a dream and a question in his mind.

The band that’s resting on the counter is different. Rustic gold and a fissure in the middle, the fertile earth splitting open to reveal a stream of diamonds, a sparkling river. Draco sets his mug to the side and holds the ring up close, his finger smoothing over the grooves of its texture.

“Did you make a stop at a jewelry store before breaking into my home?” He asks.

“No,” Harry murmurs. Draco looks at him in surprise. “I’ve had this with me for months.”

A pause.

“I thought you said you were in denial.”

“I was, but I knew, somewhat, that I wanted someone else,” Harry’s head lowers, slow and careful, until his forehead rests against Draco’s shoulder. “I told myself that I just liked the way it looked, had to get it in case I didn’t want the other ring anymore. But I got it a size smaller. Been carrying it in my pocket ever since.”

Draco’s heart throbs and throbs. Large hands circle his waist, bunching up the back of his sweater and pressing him close, chest to chest. A blanket of pure heat envelops his body as he breathes in the timeless saffron and neroli of cologne, half-lidded eyes pinned on the band he’s given. Oh, dear, he thinks, and again when it settles at the base of his ring finger with ease, as if it belongs there and never left. Oh, dear.

[yelenasdog]

talk to me? (spencer reid x fem reader)

genre: fluff 

summary: cold nights and warm coffee can be so compelling.

words: 2.2k 

warnings: mentions of having intrusive thoughts and spence being insecure, reader and spencer sleeping in the same bed. that’s all i can think of, lmk if there’s anything else!

a/n: yo! so uhhh i kinda love the start of this and dislike the end of it, but idk i think it’s still pretty snazzy!! also SPENCER IN GLASSES HAS MY HEART ok bye enjoy!!

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It was the type of cold where no matter how brightly the sun was shining, you could still feel the fresh molecules of coolness linger on your skin, hiding under the tip of your nose. It made horribly irritable little dry patches that would have to be remedied with some form of lotion, but that wouldn’t quite return back to complete normal until the end of the winter time.

But despite this, Y/n and Spencer were out and about, doing their jobs in total normalcy.

Minus being stationed in France, that is.

Although it was rare that the BAU was called overseas, Emily had needed the team’s help, and who would they be to decline a trip to the beautiful France, no less to see Prentiss as well.

So after a grueling day of blood and bad-guys, the pair made their way back to their Parisian hotel room, walking (quite wobbily, Y/n would add) along the cobblestone walkways, both of their boots clicking loudly against the rain coated stones.

It was ironic, as Spencer had attempted to wear his converse, but was denied by a worried Y/n, hearing her say “You’re going to get those things soaked, and you’ll freeze your toes right off, Dr. Reid!”

And as not to disappoint the girl, never wanting to see her mood turn as gloomy as the French sky, he complied begrudgingly. Though Y/n could swear she always saw a hint of a smile at her telling off.

Spencer was also advised by her to wear his contacts, to avoid the fogging up of his readers, but he refused, not wanting to bother with said contacts. He grew to regret that as he walked, every so often and reaching a large hand up to wipe his glasses, almost like the wind shield wipers of the bug that had been driving them around.

He chuckled at the not so distant away memories, thankful for the girl and her requests, as it turned out.

The hotel was far different from the usual dingy motels the team usually occupied when traveling, that was for certain. This one happened to be a master suite with ivory walls and silky sheets, quite opposite from the thin and scratchy yellowed covers they usually made do with.

And even though It was early in the day, the mixture of odd sleep schedules and just the heavy weight of sleepiness pressing down heavily on their shoulders, they opted to go to bed at the oh-so late time of 1:37 PM.

Daredevils, those two are.

Ignoring the first bed by the door, Spencer made a beeline for the plush queen size mattress he knew Y/n and himself would be sharing in an effort to cuddle up for warmth, sinking down into it. (After removing his shoes, of course.)

He was originally donned in just a grey Caltech shirt and some blue pajama pants, but due to the chillier weather (that he couldn’t quite seem to shake despite the thermostat in the hotel room being turned up to 76) he layered on a maroon MIT hoodie, one that he was aware Y/n would try to thieve from him, perhaps even sneaking it back in her own suitcase.

Y/n walked out of the bathroom in pale green shorts and a large and worn Led Zeppelin shirt, earning a very confused stare from Spencer. She simply shook her head and continued on her way over to the large window that was currently projected bright streams of melted gold through the glass, that would have been heated if it wasn’t for that damn cold.

“I get warm when I sleep, it bothers me.”

He nodded, watching intently as she opened and shut the blinds a few times, soft krrrrs and clicks sounding through the room as she did.

“You doing alright?” He asked, his eyeline never faltering. She turned and he picked up his copy of “A Farewell To Arms,” something she had been the one to reccomend to him, ranting on and on about Ernest Hemingway and his precious 6 toed cats. 

It was one of Spencer’s more realistic goals in life to take Y/n back to Key West to visit the Hemingway House, after her having said a childhood trip there was one of her happiest memories.

He quickly flipped to a random page, not wanting her to catch him being what he considered to be creepy, even though Y/n thought it was quite adorable.

She bit back a giggle and a smile, settling on leaving the window half open half closed. She padded over to where Spencer was, laying back onto what she imagined a cloud would feel like.

She reached over, taking the blue colored book from his hands and his thickly rimmed glasses off from where they were resting on his perfect button nose. 

She smiled to herself fondly at the items in her hands, particularly at the novel. She placed them on her bedside table (why hers and not his, Reid wasn’t too sure, but also was not going to complain), and then moved to slide between the slick tightly-tucked sheets.

“Our options were A, not be able to sleep because of Mr. Sun being out right now, or you freezing to death because Mr. Sun was blocked totally by the curtains.”

He looked over at where she had been messing around with the heavy drapes.

“I see you went in between.”

She smiled graciously, which Spencer returned immediately.

“That I did.”

A few more awkward moments of silence (not including the occasional yelling and honking from those riding on motorbikes below) passed, before she finally settled into the sheets.

She turned to the side table to her left and tugged on the chain of the old timey lamp. The room went quiet, but the pair’s minds were anything but.

Y/n’s head was swimming in intrusive thoughts, while Spencer’s was a hazy cloud of self deprecations and his own voice keeping him awake, staring at the painted ceiling.

“Spence?”

“Mmhm?”

“Can you talk to me?”

Spencer’s brows furrowed. He shifted around in the creme sheets of the bed, finding a cold spot quite quickly.

“What do you want me to say?”

Silence.

“Anything.”

She turned over to now be facing the lanky boy, their noses nearly touching. She held her breath, sucking in a bottom lip.

He looked to her eyes, to her lips, and back to her eyes again, quickly gathering a list of things to ramble about.

“Well,” he began, “Paris was originally founded in the 3rd century BC, and was a Roman city called Lutetia, and to prove it, there’s even remains of Roman ruins in the capital. And speaking of monuments, in total, there are 1,803 of them, and 173 museums in Paris alone- Y/n?”

To his surprise, Y/n’’s idea had worked. Spencer looked over to see a sleeping Y/n, a peaceful expression resting upon her features.

He smiled at the idea that he had played some role in that, closing his own eyes. The cloud that was previously keeping him from long awaited slumber was now a light film, nagging at the back of his head quietly. 

He simply told the voice to quiet down and was then able to lull himself to sleep, Y/n’s presence calming him to no end.

It wasn’t until 8 hours later that they had woken up, first Spencer, followed by Y/n. She peeked open her eyes, pleasantly surprised by the lack of light shining through the curtains. 

She wiggled around, stretching from her neck down to her toes. Spencer smiled at this, finding her resemblance to a cat who had been sunnapping, quite endearing.

She moved to her side, placing a hand under her chin to get a better look at the Doctor who was nearly finished reading her copy of “A Farewell to Arms”.

“Did you at least mark my spot?” She asked, voice raspy from sleep.

He scoffed, flipping to and then showing her the bookmarked page of the story.

“What do you think I am, a monster?”

She chuckled, sitting up next to Spencer.

“I mean, I don’t know, sometimes it seems like it”.

He rolled his eyes, setting down the read and hopping out of bed.

“What are you doing, Spence?” She asked, not amused in the slightest by the idea of having to get out of bed.

“We are going to get coffee.”

She shook her head of messy hair, the wispy bits flowing around her like a halo in the hotel room lighting.

“You can go get us coffee and bring it right back over here, alright? Thanks, you’re a doll.”

He did that thin lipped smile that seems to be his equivalent of a smirk, grabbing a hoodie from the inside of his suitcase that was perched on top of a dresser.

“Come on, we’re going on an adventure. Use this and the idea of coffee as an incentive.”

He tossed her the hoodie, the jacket landing by her feet with an audible plop.

She loudly groaned, shrugging it on and pulling herself out of bed. She also managed to tug on some jeans and an overcoat, as well as her boots, shaking her head at Spencer’s lack of preparation for the cold temperatures, as always. 

“Spencer, I am not about to go to this and have you complain about being cold the whole time, put on your coat, please.” She gestured to where it was hanging in the closet with her hand still concealed by her trench coat’s pocket, her eyes shutting and her head lolling to the side.

“If you insist.”

“Yes I do, put it on, lets go.” She said drawing out the “o”.

Spencer’s eyes widened and he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “My apologies, good morning to you too.”

She only rolled her eyes and smiled, opening the door to the room and leading the way.

By the time she had found a coffee shop on Yelp that she had deemed satisfactory, (which was extremely difficult due to the language barrier) the time had passed even later, and the temperature was even lower.

The lights on the streets sparkled, reflecting in the puddles of the water that lined the asphalt. Y/n was quite enchanted by the little light shows, slowing the journey to the shop significantly. Spencer didn’t mind, though, he enjoyed every second he got to spend with her to the absolute fullest, and found her fascination with every part of life inspiring.

When they finally reached the quaint little coffee shop, they walked inside, finding refuge in the warmth of the establishment.

Spencer ordered for them, and Y/n found a table (as that’s what they always did, taking turns between ordering and scouting a place to sit).

She located a cozy little corner by a window, a perfect place to observe those who bustled about at night, watching them and coming up with back stories, whatever they may be.

She enjoyed doing that, it made her believe she had a better understanding of the world around her, why those she works on catching every day behave in the manner they do.

And what better place to do so than Paris?

So she flagged Reid (who now was in possession of the two drinks) over, taking hers from his hand. 

“Latte with two creams and 4 sugars for the lady.”

She smiled graciously, allowing the heat of the cup to spread through her system.

“And what did you get? Let me guess, a shot of espresso with 12 sugars?”

Spencer rolled his eyes, not wanting to admit she was more correct than he had hoped.

“Ha ha, very funny, Y/n.”

She smiled over her small mug, quirking a brow.

“Oh, I know.”

He shook his head and glanced out the window with a low chuckle, watching as people from all walks of life went about their business, some with dogs, some with children, some of them even walking along with a cup of coffee in their hands, similarly to Spencer and Y/n. Some of them, in fact, had all three.

As the two sat observing, sipping away at their respective concoctions, Y/n spoke up, her voice soft, although considering they were the only two in the shop, it didn’t need to be.

“Spence?”

“Hmm?”

Only then did she tear her glance away from those on the street, her full focus now on Reid. She admired his bone structure, in awe over the way the soft light reflected off his strong jaw and high cheeks. At that moment, he looked like he belonged in the Louvre.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” He finally looked towards her, his hand never moving from where it was positioned under his chin.

She simply shrugged, wrapping her coat tighter around herself.

He darted his eyes to the table and then her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Well, you’re welcome, I guess.”

She smiled and nodded at once, satisfied with his response.

While she looked out the window once more, she began to wonder about those around her. If they felt the same strong emotions that she did, if they held the same hope and desire for the future that she did.

And as she took another sip from her drink, closing her eyes and slowly was drifting off with the sounds of the city, she could only hope that they did.

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

i hope u enjoyed that bc i feel like the imagery in the first paragraph was immaculate 😁 also! i ask that in the reblogs no cussing (and on my blog now in general) is used for personal reasons :) kk luv u bye bb! go take an electronics break and drink some water+ eat some protien (cashews, cheese, whatever ur feeling!)

xx hj 

[simpcxty]

Tenya Iida NSFW

Okay okay, hear me out.

Tenya likes grinding, humping, just anything of the sorts. He likes the friction, of course he likes sex too. But there’s something about grinding that he finds appealing.

Ofc the characters in this are aged up to 18+

I’m gonna make one thing clear, I do not promote minors reading nsfw content.

But we all know I can say minors DNI and they’ll just read it anyway without interacting. Or they’ll disregard what I say completely and interact anyway.

So with that, I’ll just say READ RESPONSIBLY, instead.

Also, idk why I switch POV’s so much. That really annoys me. I’m gonna need to work on that, but here’s this :)

——————————————————

Third POV

“Ugh finally.” She slammed her study book shut and started to collect her things. Tenya collapses backwards on his back making her laugh.

“We’ve been studying for hours, I’m ready to just curl up in bed and sleep.” She goes to stand up but Tenya pulls her back down quickly.

She blushes at the compromising position he had pulled her into, but decides to tease him to try and ease her nerves.

"Tenya if you wanted to cuddle me all you had to do was ask." The flushed pink that was occupying his ears turned into a flushed red that spread to his face as he sputters on his words.

Reader POV

"T-That's not it- not that I wouldn't, you're very cuddle-able- not that I'm flirting with you because that'd be weird- again not that I wouldn't, you're very beautiful and you have the ideal body type that I would love to cuddle-" i decided to cut his nervous rambling off.

"Tenya, it's okay, I was just joking." He nods but before anything else can happen he tightens his grip around my waist, making the position we were in, even more awkward.

When he pulled me on top of him my legs wrapped around his waist in a straddling position.

I know he realized what he did as soon as he did it because it sent a shiver not just up my spine but his too.

The moment he tightened his arms around my waist and pulled me down tighter, he had inadvertently pushed our most sensitive areas against each other.

He had let out an accidental strained moan when he did it too. Not that I could blame him, I did too.

No words were spoken, just more moans as he purposefully did it this time.

That was only the start.

I was still wearing my uniform and so was he. There were very thin layers between us right now, therefore, it was easy to feel his member start to harden while it pressed against me.

And as he moves his hands to my hips, instead of pulling me down tighter, he lifts his hips up into mine.

A similar sensation, but also different in completely different way.

"T-Tenya, what are we d-doing?" He lifts his hips more and pulls me down as he does it.

Tenya POV

She lets out a moan at that one. A genuine one.

I didn't know how to answer that question in this moment.

I do know that she's making the cutest noises and the feeling of her grinding against my cock was the best thing right now.

Wait when did she start doing that?

"Tenya~ mmh." That desperate little moan was enough to give me the confidence to flip us over and push her skirt up.

"This is okay? Right? I'll stop as soon as you say the word." She nods and unexpectedly pulls me into a kiss.

This was different.

Yes grinding against her felt great. But this, this felt proper, her lips tasted like chocolate and banana, along with a hint of mint. Probably from her toothpaste.

“More than okay.” She looks up at me and every bit of my self control went out the window.

I ground my hips against hers at the exact same moment she decided to lift hers up into mine, causing us both to slow our movements for a moment.

As I feel her start to move slowly again. My hand decided to have a mind of its own and wrap itself around her throat.

The little gasp that leaves her throat as she feels my fingers start to squeeze makes me twitch in my pants.

Reader POV

"T-Tenya- we should stop. You're gonna regret it later-" he interrupts me with a sigh.

"No I won't." His hand moves to cup my jaw and he presses his lips to mine gently. As if he was giving me an opportunity to pull away.

I didn't.

The kiss was passionate, but slow and loving.

"I would never regret anything with you." He presses his lips back against mine for a quick kiss and when he pulled away he laid his head on my chest.

His bed was soft, but I'm pretty sure the real comfort I was experiencing was from him.

"What are you-" his arms wrap around my waist and his head rests in my chest now.

"Cuddles." I smile a bit.

"Why?" He looks confused.

"Do you not want me to?" He starts removing himself from the position he's in.

I quickly pulled him back in though.

"I didn't say that. I quite like the feeling of your arms around my waist." I gently run my fingers through his hair.

He sighs and I go to pull my hands away.

"No!" He whines and moves his head from the position it's in to whine at me.

The confidence came out of nowhere, but I shoved his head back into my chest.

My fingers slowly move through his hair again, earning soft sighs from the boy wrapped around me.

"You're a Teddy bear." He nods and pushes my boobs together, shoving his face in between them causing me to blush.

"I can be yes-" he interrupts himself as he pulls himself out of where he was, just to push my shirt up and shove his head underneath and do it.

"T-TENYA!" My face was furiously red at this point.

"I can also be quite mischievous at times." He finishes what he was saying earlier only to attach his lips to my left breast, sucking and biting roughly.

Third

The more dark marks he left along her chest the more she started to squirm underneath him.

He leaves a particularly dark one planning on making it the last one.

Until she wrapped her legs around his legs and pulled him in closer.

It wouldn't have been a problem, except he had unbuttoned his uniform slacks earlier to ease the pressure on his dick.

So when she had pulled him in by his legs it had pulled down his slacks.

So now it was just two very, very, thin layers in between them.

"S-Shit." His hands were groping her hips now as he decided to push his hips into hers experimentally. His head was still buried under her shirt leaving more and more hickeys along her chest. Not caring that he was running out of room.

"T-Tenya-" she's interrupted by a moan as he grinds his hips into hers again.

"D-Don't stop. Please- ngh~" she's interrupted by a different moan as he picks up his speed and puts more pressure into the clothed thrusts.

"S-Shit" he lets out a breathy moan when she lifts her hips to the lazy thrusts.

He quickens his speed again sending her hands to his shoulders.

"Tenya, if you keep going I'm gonna cum." She lets out a groan as she lifts her hips to meet his.

"That's the idea- oh fuck- do you know how hot it'd be if the first time I make you cum is gonna be without even actually using my dick or my fingers on you?-" He interrupts his sentence to pull her hips against him roughly.

"Just me pushing and pulling you against me, leaving hickeys all over your pretty chest, just that is enough to make you cum huh?" His words were definitely more than enough to push her over the edge.

Which pushed him over the edge because of her noises and the way her legs tightened around his as she came.

"Looks like it went both ways huh?" She lets out a breathy laugh as he collapses next to her.

He chuckled and then looked down at the mess in his boxers.

"I can make sure you get back to your dorm without being bothered if you want. I'm sure you don't want to be pestered about the situation, and because of your cum soaked panties." He smiled cheekily causing her to shove her face in his neck and groan.

"You're lucky it didn't get on my skirt or I'd be having a completely different attitude towards you right now." He smirks and leaves a soft kiss against her neck.

"It takes two to tango."

———————————————

Phew, okay this is all over the place but it’s done. So I took this from a fic on my Wattpad. So I had to augment it a bit. But I hope y’all enjoy it, and if you don’t. Well I honestly don’t give a fuck. I’m tired. So enjoy or don’t :)

[erinhime83]

Since APPARENTLY I did the designs all wrong (I won’t lie - doing  my own design of Evangelia was sort of a thinly veiled attempted to get @callistochan87 to redesign her herself.  >.>), I figured I’d make it my life mission this week to go through and, like, fix them.  Partially because in my fuming about finding out that two of the people were talking about this behind my back, I kept giving myself ideas.  >.<

I am pleasantly pleased with the design that @callistochan87 did for Evania/Evangelia, although I’m worried how much is actually influenced by my design and how much she actually decided to do on her own.  *shrug*  I just like the simplicity of it and how it does make her look like a goddess.  I kept forgetting to add in the pieces in front of her ears, lol.

Antigonus I did fiddle with a little bit.  Mostly, @callistochan87 mentioned that she thought it was funny having this super old guy traveling with a bunch of teenagers, and she wondered why I didn’t just...make someone new.  Well, mostly because I didn’t want to, and mostly because when she did create someone new when I decided the Guides were supposed to be younger, it felt...wrong. 

SO, I decided to age him down a little.  Which I suppose sort of defeats the purpose of @callistochan87 creating another character when I wanted to do the same, but ignore that.  He basically has the same backstory - he was the youngest Guide of the previous generation.  He’s the heir of the empire, being the Emperor’s nephew, and now that his Guide duties are over, he’s preparing to take over the Empire.  EXCEPT, the idiot new Guide managed to get himself killed, so Antigonus is temporarily taking over the duties as they try to find someone else to take over.  BUT THEN GUESS WHAT?  He’s about 35, so while he’s old, he’s not stupidly older than than, and is sort of more of a chaperone than anything else.

His outfit come from an old one @callistochan87 designed, and I figure it’s just, like, a traveling outfit?  idk

Freyja...omg, Freyja.  She caused most of my strife.  Like, I honestly didn’t change THAT MUCH of her design, just sort of little piddly stuff to make it look more visually appealing, but APPARENTLY, that was still bad.  I stewed and hemmed and hawed on this for quite a while, annoyed before it hit me - this is a a redesign.  Shizuka sort of went back to her roots.  Why couldn’t Freyja as well?

(And yes, I realize I was in the wrong, but like I said, I hadn’t changed her that much from her last design, and, well, these were done years ago so I sort of...forgot that she didn’t originally look like that.  >.<)

And I figured, ya know, since I had minorly changed Freyja and she didn’t like that, I had better change Desiree, too, because I drastically changed her.  I don’t care what @swankifiedcos says about this one, I am IN LOVE with her outfit.  <3  Her hair, though, was inspired by a recent picture of @swankifiedcos of her hair between dye jobs where it was pink at the tips and she looked SO PRETTY.  Sure, Desiree is brunette, not blond, but I like that look on her so much I wanted to recreate it somewhat, and she looks so nice! 

Frejya, well, I did sort of tweek her design slightly to what @callistochan87 did, mostly giving her cold shoulder sleeves as a sort of call back to her old sleeves.  I won’t lie - I did attempt to do them again and failed spectacularly.  Sorry.  But apparently she approves of this sleeve, so that’s...one less problem for me to deal with.  XD   Just so you know, I gave her hearts rather than flowers merely because I can’t draw flowers.  Consider it a style thing.  Like, in reality, she has flowers, but i just draw them as hearts.  I am SHOCKED that I was able to make the feathers as nice as I did, though!  This look makes SO MUCH more sense than the way we used to draw it.  Me likely. 

(Also, you might be thinking that she’s still wearing the pants.  I originally indended that, with the thought that she comes from a cold kindgom, but then decided they’re actually shorts that she ended up added to her outfit for modesty sake, much like Sethos did with his shirt.  :P)

I really wanted to redo Nannin’s outfit as well, but I’m sorry - I’m lazy, and her original outfit is both too detailed and too simple.  So I just made her top layer a darker pink, and I like it better.  Also made her a blond again with the idea that the people of Melohdia like like normal ass humans, and the Chosen have colored hair, and the Guides have unnatural colored eyes, which is how people can tell they’re Guides.

Geoffrey (I’m thinking of renaming him Geauffery, because that’s how I prenounce it in my head) over there gets a new design as well because I didn’t care for his other one.  >.<  Also, decided, as much as I like the name Dimitri Kaminiski, I;m going to go ahead and make him Owen again.  Mostly because he’s sort of shifted more into being Owen.  I was sort of going with this old look while making it look a little more medieval, and I like it.  I also decided he’s not a soothsayer, but rather a magician.mage.

Which is sort of similar to Evangelia’s power, but not quite.  She uses the power of miracles, whereas he uses actual magic.  Its sort of like how Shizuka and Freyja’s power is similar, but Frejya’s is a little weaker.  (Shizuka has mastery over all weapons, whereas Freyja just has mastery over bludgeoning people with a huge ass axe.  But she has the benefit of also having  magic, whereas Shizuka can just use some fire magic.)

The next design is where it get all long and involved.  Basically as I was stewing about having my feelings hurt and how I was going to hide everything in my annoyance, I THINK I was briefly reminded of the last time I screwed up and within that instance a brilliant idea came to me, mostly because I needed more villains.  

I remember I really like Astrid’s design, but looking back, I’m sort of confused as to why?  It doesn’t look at all better than Freyja’s.  >.<  Anyway, the thought is simple - when the Chosen are originally yanked into Melohdia, Nuncio replaces one of them with one of his own that would be easily manipulated.  Why Freyja, you ask?  Plot reasons, since it does help explain the whole Nannin thing a lot better.  The thing is, though, that Ariadne and Atalo sort of find out and drag Freyja in as well, except she ends up in Baldernan rather than Azibo with the rest of the Chosen.

So the Chosen are in Azibo thinking Astrid is one of them, except they don’t really vibe with her that well.  They just figure it’s because they can’t like everyone, and ignore it.  Astrid herself doesn’t really suspect anything.  But then they travel to Baldurnan and find Freyja there, who they do vibe with very well, and they find out that Astrid is a fake. 

Which would be all fine and well.  Even Freyja’s willing to give the girl a chance because, hey, it’s not her fault she was falsely brought into this world with no purpose.  Except Astrid is a spoiled bitch and takes it as an affront that they would even want to include Freyja at all.  So she just sort of runs off and Nuncio catches up to her, and convinces her that she’s the real one, and and she goes around antagonizing the group from time to time.  They think she’s in league with Atalo at first until they find out of the truth.

NEW IDEA.  I actually had this very vague idea while musing around, but @callistochan87 had another idea that was similar enough that I can change things to make it work WAY better.  So, the new idea is mostly that Nuncio pulls Astrid into Melohdia way before the others.  The people are rather confused, certainly, but it’s not 100% unheard of one Chosen being brought over.  So she’s treated like something of a god and spoiled further, and Nuncio pretty much convinces her that she’s the soul savior of Melohdia. He assigns Thor to be her Guide, although he’s just some Random Dude (because I decided that matching genders to the Chosen is sort of weird, so Nannin is a full Guide now).

BUT Ariadne and Atalo end up pulling the REAL Chosen a month or so later, which REALLY pull the people for a loop, and they realize that Astrid is a fake once they realize that Thor isn’t a real Guide and that Nannin claims Freyja.  The group attempts to assimilate Astrid in with them, because they realize it’s not HER fault all this happened, but since she’s a fake Chosen AND a narcissistic bitch, they end up not viving all that well, and she ends up running away in anger and embarrassment.

Nuncio sort of blames the whole thing on Atalo somehow, since the people forgot that Ariadne is the only one who can pull true Chosen into the world, mostly to save face.

Astrid and Thor do end up joining with Atalo for a little bit, because he’s trying to be sympathetic to her as well, but their goals aren’t really the same.  She does prove to be a major threat to the group because she DOES have the power of a Chosen, although they’re sort of weak.  

Her real name is Katelyn Davis, and she’s pretty much the opposite of the other Chosen.  She’s a complete social butterfly, the sort to think the world revolves around her.  She’s not happy unless she’s around people, whereas the other Chosen are pretty much introverted and would prefer to keep to themselves. 

Her Guide’s name is Thor (I keep calling him that in my head, I think because of Frejya being named after a god), and he is, in fact, a true Guide.  It’s just that he’s not a very good one, nor is he a good person.  He’s a bandit and delights in the misfortunes of others.  The other Guides avoided him at all costs, and wasn’t sure why he was chosen to be a Guide.  He goes off with Astrid after they kick him out of the group when Freyja chooses Nannin over him.  (The two of them became close in the month Frejya was stuck there on her own, so of course she’d want to have her stay with her.)

The last picture was just me giving them their original hair colors just for the hell of it, and now I’m torn.  >.<  Because I like these as well.  I mean, I like the idea of the colored hair being how you can tell they’re the Chosen, BUT I also, you know, like the original colors BECAUSE they are the original colors.  >.<

[juvinile]

* HALEY  LU  RICHARDSON ,  CIS FEMALE  +  SHE / HER  |   you  know  EDEN  ROMANOV ,  right ?  they’re  TWENTY - THREE ,  and  they’ve  lived  in  irving  for ,  like ,  ON  AND  OFF  THEIR  WHOLE  LIFE ?  well ,  their  spotify  wrapped  says  they  listened  to  SAFE  PLACES  BY  CASSIDY  KING  like ,  a  million  times  this  year ,  which  makes  sense  ‘cause  they’ve  got  that  whole  LACING  YOUR  MARY  JANES  SO  TIGHTLY  THEY  LEAVE  MARKS ,  WIND  BLOWN  SILK  OVERSHIRTS ,  STRANDS  OF  FRESH  CUT  HAIR  LEFT  ABANDONED  IN  THE  SINK  TO  WILT  thing  going  on .  i  just  checked  and  their  birthday  is  SEPTEMBER  16TH ,  so  they’re  a  VIRGO ,  which  is  unsurprising ,  all  things  considered .

TW  INCLUDE  internalized homophobia tw, homophobia tw.

AESTHETICS :

lacing your mary janes so tightly they leave marks, wind blown silk overshirts, strands of fresh cut hair left abandoned in the sink to wilt, light academia compulsions, using pressed petals with the thorns left sharp as bookmarks, falling apart inside the safety of your own room, putting yourself back together in a broken mirror, tight ponytails and tighter features, stretching yourself thin as elastic, bittersweet pomegranate, strawberry chapstick layered over clear lipgloss, reading the wrong script, world domination.

CHARACTER  INSPO :

hermione granger (harry potter), cameron post (the miseducation of cameron post), the white rabbit (alice in wonderland), martha gellhorn (hemingway and gellhorn), dolores abernathy (westworld), nina sayers (black swan), emily dickinson (dickinson), caitlin park (the infinite noise), margaery tyrell (game of thrones) 

GENERAL STATISTICS :

full name :  eden anastasia romanov

age / dob :  twenty threee / september 16th

gender :  cis female

pronouns :  she / her

faceclaim :  haley lu richardson

orientation :  homosexual / lesbian

residence :  port apartments

occupation :  intern in the mayor’s office

pinterest :  HERE !

BIOGRAPHY :

eden anastasia romanov. born and raised in irving (though at times it felt like the romanovs lived in behind the walls of their own private castle, operated a few steps ahead of everyone else. eden ate it up), eden was one of the younger romanov’s. her father, vaughn romanov, was a senator who recently decided to run for town mayor and her mother, adelaide romanov, was a philanthropist.

she always always always looked up to her eldest sibling, cain. it seems this was a common thread for the romanov siblings see abel.  (played by james and bri blows a kiss)

very much born with a silver spoon so far up her rear, she was always her father’s precious angel. very much her father’s daughter. she knew cain was the one with all of the pressure but this only drove her to crave success more. she was determined to make her parents proud, even if the weight on her shoulders was completely self imposed. all her parents wanted from her career wise was to marry well and look pretty. more on this trauma later.

her and her siblings were expected to be more than involved in school and their community. she was a cheerleader and a gymnast, top of her class, president of the debate team, sang in the church choir. she was a perfect smiling face for her mother’s philanthropy events and stood next to her siblings at all of her father’s rallies. she played two instruments and spoke as many languages. she made it look easy.

there wasn’t very much time for eden to make friends. she only had a handful, girls she’d grown up with in the gymnastics gym, and she knew people that gravitated towards her really only had their eyes on her family’s money. (erm. maybe thats just ur weird trust issues eden but idk im not a therapist) because of this, she was exceptionally reliant on her siblings. they were the only ones who understood what it was like to be spread so thin you snapped.

(homophobia tw) she was the first of her family to spark controversy, though it never got out, when her mother caught her kissing a girl from her cheer squad in her car parked in front of their house. though her parents didn’t fully mind, this news would be bad for her father’s campaign so eden wasn’t given a say. the romanov’s would make it go away. she still had to appeal to the wealthy sons of her parent’s aristocratic friends. you couldn’t really do that with your tongue down a girl’s throat, now, could you e? 

her father bribed the girl’s mother to take her daughter off the cheer team. this was also the day eden decided she would be a politician. there was no question. she couldn’t feel helpless anymore. was it equal parts about besting her father for making her best friend go away? perhaps. eden wouldn’t admit that. she wouldn’t admit a lot of things.

deeply liberal. a stark contrast to the republican (centrist. but still.) values of her parents. a rift was drawn between her and her parents. she was no longer her father’s little girl. she wasn’t the romanov that could do no wrong. she was yet another family black sheep, who had a lot of making up to do if she wanted back in wealth’s good graces. she felt abandoned by her parents, an issue that she would grapple with for the rest of her life. (end of tw)

her grades dropped after this. she considered running away but in the end she graduated high school. she wasn’t valedictorian like she had always hoped, but salutatorian still looked good on college apps. eden was never known for giving up, but she wasn’t usually known for coming in second place either.

it was really hard for her when cain left to.. wherever it was they went off to. (she’s still afraid to ask) she was in college, pursuing a political science degree, and she suffered more than she would ever let on. she didn’t sleep much at all, the entire year. she accomplished very little, focused solely on keeping up the image she’d worked so hard to craft. if she could survive this she could survive anything.

screech (the sound of tires coming to a halt). cain came back. conveniently, eden made the decision to take a gap year and come back for a second senior year at university. it wasn’t related. she did this for herself. (she didn’t)

cain didn’t remember her when they came back. nothing hurt worse than this.

she’s going through a lot right now. she’ll b fine. 

don’t know where to fit this in but she owns a cat named lady d named after her role model princess diana. she’s mean and bites people a lot but eden thinks it’s endearing.

PERSONALITY :

determined. type a. organized. studious. go getter. tenacious. shrill. hot tempered. prone to fantasy. escapist. withdrawn. tightly wound. deeply in need of catching a break. ankle biter energy. ruthless and bloodthirsty, can and will destroy anything that gets in her way? stuck in her head. strives so hard for perfection, low self esteem. unforgiving with mistakes. especially her own. thinks she doesn’t need anyone else. really really needs someone else. indulgent. likes luxury and doesn’t apologize for it, but isn’t loud about it either. princess locked in a tower waiting for her knight in shining armor energy. does this make sense.

WANTED CONNECTIONS : 

other irving hs students her age that were also really hard workers in school. the people she competed with and also competed alongside. 

other members of the cheer team. first girl kiss anyone? first girl kiss? 

siobhan is her ex girlfriend from college that she broke up with because of all the internalized homophobia. does this spark any connections? lmk. 

a boy she’s dating to appease her parents. not sure if she’s doing it to get them off her backs or because she really wants to prove herself to them. probably both. 

hi hookups anyone? she might be pretending to date a guy but that doesn’t mean she’s a sadist. let’s have fun. 

ok who sells her weed. god knows she needs it. 

anyone who grew up going to her mother’s events. suffering through stuffy socializing together. eden was really good at it it was probably annoying. 

does anyone need a roommate in port? she’s really clean and keeps to herself but her cat does bite. warning. her cat does bite. 

anything else i can’t think of but. i’m sure there’s more.

[littlx-songbxrd]

okok here it is, i don't have a working title yet lol and i wrote the first like three paragraphs a year ago and only now finished it

but uh here it is ig (it's long so below the cut)

oh and i named the characters before i read chog believe it or not so there is no correlation lol

Prologue - Cordelia

May brings with it the memory of battles fought and won and the ever looming presence of a war not quite lost but certainly nowhere near done. As I hand out threadbare blankets around the flickering fires of the temporary war camp, I have to force my mind not to stray to all the people who should be here but are not. Well, the one person, really. I don’t allow myself to dwell, for I know that if I let my heart open to loss, there will be no hope at closing the hole left behind. No one here will tolerate that.

Yet no one criticizes Halen when she fumbles and breaks her fragile composure, storming out of the planning tent, the memories glistening in her eyes threatening to spill over. No, when it’s her, they rush to comfort her, to appease her, and they tell her to take all the time she needs. After all, has the poor girl not been through enough? they whisper pityingly as though we all haven’t lost others to this fight. But, of course, it’s not my place to comment on the actions of the mighty Chosen One. Even if she is my friend.

I look down to find my hands are empty. Tir has taken the last blanket from me without my noticing, and he’s settling down against his pack with his bare feet at the fire. I scowl; he isn’t allowed to speak against Halen either, despite being her older brother.

Heaving a sign, I slump down next to my friend and pull a corner of the blanket over myself. Tir shifts slightly so I can lean against his shoulder. We don’t speak. There are no words big enough to dispel the cloud of grief that hangs over us.

I know Tir is thinking of Zo today, just like he knows I’m thinking of Cherry.

Both of us, I’m sure, are also thinking that Halen ought to be here. She ought to be spilling those tears she always threatens and apologizing meaninglessly for deaths that aren’t her fault. Since when did she choose to be distant and calm? Couldn’t she at least have the decency to break down with the rest of us?

I scowl at a gecko as it skitters through the dirt toward the treeline to the west. I should say something to Halen. I should scream at her, sob at her, cry out until she understands that we need her as a friend, not just a commander.

My mind made up, I stand quickly, earning a confused stare from Tir. “Where are you off to?” he asks, his voice thick.

I shake my head. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”

He chuckles and reaches up to squeeze my hand. It’s enough. He was never one for many words.

I smile sadly down at him and set off to the eastern shore, where the purple and gold tents of the Eneris royal tents have been set up. Their fire and sun emblem shines bright on the tent flaps behind guards dressed in layers upon layers of robes and wraps and blankets. I scoff. The army settled just twenty yards away is shivering under thin blankets and dying fires while the royals and their company dine on mutton and venison. Not that I’ve come to expect anything else from them. They recruited Halen and built this army from the ground up—of course they believe themselves worthy of a few more precious coins exchanged for better conditions.

Even today, the first anniversary of Monvira’s troops storming villages and uprooting lives, they haven’t so much as acknowledged the flood of pain that’s sweeping through their army. I wonder if they even know what May first means to their people.

I stop mid-stride, staring straight ahead at the Strategy tent, where I know Halen spends most of her time these days.

It hits me: May first. The sky is clouded and the birds are silent, but it’s May first and no one bothered telling me that I forgot my birthday. Which was April thirtieth. No one noticed.

Weariness pushes at the back of my eyes, and I blink heavily against the tears blurring my vision. Memories from last year flood my mind as I turn and hurry towards Halen’s private tent. It bares the same colors and seal as the others.

I collapse on her bedroll and let out a single sob.

Last year, on the night of my birthday, Cherry had wrapped a blanket around us both as we stumbled back to our village after a whole day spent together at Renton Lake. She’d kissed my hand and twirled me toward the hut I shared with Halen, giggling in the moonlight, her dark unbound hair spilling over her shoulder like a waterfall of night. The memory rips through me, forcing another sob out of my quaking body.

The next morning, she’d been gone.

I’m not sure how long I lay there, my tears collecting in a pool around my head, but eventually the shaking subsides and leaves behind a solemn heaviness. Only when I hear the tent flap ruffle do I stir. There’s a small gasp, then: “Delia?”

Halen’s nickname for me only makes the smallest dent in my sorrow. I push myself to a sitting position, sure that my face is red and splotchy and my hair wild and tangled. All in all, I don’t blame her for looking taken aback. “Delia, what is it?” she gushes, crouching before me and taking my face in her hands. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

This is exactly what I wanted when I stormed in here. Now, I nearly laugh. It’s pathetic, really, all this time I’ve spent cleaning up after Halen, chasing her, thinking maybe she could do something that would fill the cavity growing inside me. I see it now, as her hazel eyes rake my face. “Nothing,” I tell her. Her thumbs are soft as they wipe away the tears that trickle down my cheeks. “Not anymore.” My voice is scratchy, and I push down against a wave of shame. I’m better than this. I’m better than breaking down in my friend’s plush tent. I’ve never been the emotional one—that was always Halen.

I wipe away my tears, feel myself stand and walk out of the tent, my mind still occupied with hazy revelations I’m too exhausted to fully pursue. There’s a feeling in my gut, the only one that matters right now, and it’s an overwhelming cry to get out.

The grass is silent under my feet as I walk, and I’m distantly aware of Halen calling after me. Her cries of “Wait!” and “What’s going on, Cordelia?” follow me, even after she stops.

I keep walking.

I don’t look back.

---

so uh yeah that's it 👉👈 i can give u the idea of the book if u want or you can just take this offering and run lol <33

Im gonna give you my unfiltered thoughts with no order or organization

REMEMBER ME WHEN YOURE RICH AND FAMOUS AND A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

OMG IM GONNA GET TO BRAG I SAW THE PROLOGUE TO AN AWARD WINNING BOOK IN THE FUTURE HOLY SHIT

I DONT HAVE ENOUGH WORDS TO EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS AND IM BILINGUAL

RENDERED ME SPEECHLESS IN TWO LANGUAGES GO YOU

SHE DIDNT EVEN REMEMBER HER BIRTHDAY HOLY SHIT

LOOK I ADORE THE FEELINGA CORDELIA POTRAYED DURING THE ENTIRE PROLOGUE

LIKE HOW YOU WROTE IT IS JUST

I WANTED HER TO COME BREAKDOWN WITH THE REST OF US?????

NO IM SORRY IM HORRIBLE AT COMPLIMENTING EVERYTHING HERE IS BRILLIANT

1) i have a basis for how the crown is unfair (based on cordelias description) ALSO HOW CORDELIA DESCRIBED "i wasnt even sure if they knew what may 1 meant to their people" IDK BUT I LOVED HOW OT WAS WRITTEN. Its not explicit BUT LEAVES THE MESSAGE SAID

2) basis to whats going on? C H E C K

3) JUST HOW YOU WROTE CORDELIAS GRIEVE AND ESTABLISHED THE CHARACTER

Artie i've told you a million times but I adore your writting style, i always adored it BIT READING YOUR ORIGINAL WORK

I FEEL SO PROUD OF YOU?????

Your style is perfect

I WASNT LOST WHICH IS GOOD!

AND LEAVES ME WANTING FOR MORE

I DIDNT NOTICE BUT MY PHONE HAS LOW BATTERY SO IF I DONT REPLY AFTER THIS ITS THAT BUT TELL ME MORE PLS

[novannna]

Idk if this counts as a fic request? But If you're cool with it, maybe you can write a little thing about your OCs? I really liked hearing about Sloane and Jordan!!

ANON I LOVE YOUUUUU

ahhh i will forever talk ab them 🥺🥺 i love them so much tysm for listenign me scream incoherently ab them

i wasn't exactly sure what you wanted, so i wrote their first meeting (if you wanted something different, lemme know, i will happily write more of them ajhfsadf)

some background info that i may or may not have already said, idk, but im saying again: Jordan's name is technically Lydia Jordan, she changes it after she meets sloane, sloane works for a nameless organization where people hire thieves to steal for them, through the organization, and the organization in turn provides housing, and food, and safety, as well as guaranteed jobs.

this is all probably v confusing im so bad at explaining stuff, ask if you have questions!

also i kinda dont like this i was only partly coherent when i wrote this, but whatever :)

Sloane pulled at her dress, nose wrinkling as the fabric itched against her skin.

“Are you sure I have to wear shoes Elias?” She asked the man next to them.

He glared at her. “Yes. Sloane, this is for real now. You have to act proper. Stop fidgeting.”

Sloane sulked. “I am proper.”

Elias groaned. “Why did I have to be the one stuck with a fucking child?”

“I’m not a child!” Sloane protested. “I’ll knock you to your ass again, if you want me to prove it. And you’re only 10 years older than me, it’s not that much!”

“If you’re so grown up, then stop complaining.”

Sloane glared but didn’t say anything. They were sitting in a carriage, waiting to arrive at the Duke of Cantol’s manor. They had been hired to steal a case of jewels, hidden away somewhere within the grand building. The only way to steal them was to pose as nobles, and infiltrate the Duke’s solstice party themselves.

This was Sloane’s first real job. Before this, she had only done petty crime for the elders. Minor pickpocketing, and stealing for low paying clients.

This was their chance to prove themself, both as a thief worthy of jobs given out by the elders, and a chance to prove that she wasn’t merely a child.

The only problem was, Sloane had never interacted with nobles before. The other thieves had put her through rigorous training, everything from how to respond to questions, to which cutlery to use.

But it didn’t matter if this was all new to her. Sloane was prepared. These were high stakes, where they worked best. They wouldn’t fail.

Slowly, the carriage pulled to a halt.

“Remember, do not speak out of turn. You know your job?” Elias asked.

Sloane nodded. “Find out where the jewels are, then report back to you. I remember everything.”

Elias nodded, only partially sated. “And-”

“And don’t complain,” Sloane interrupted. “I know.”

“Good. Don’t forget who you are, and who they are. Don’t give them a reason to doubt you.”

Sloane nodded. Though her face was a perfect mask of emotions, her stomach was writhing. Their fingers were tapping out a pattern onto her leg, the familiar motion a relief.

Elias opened the door, and together they stepped out onto the lush lawn.

---

Lydia hated everything, she had decided. She hated her dress, which pinched her ribs and kept her from breathing in a deep breath. She hated her shoes, terrible contraptions that threatened to send her tumbling to the floor with each step. She hated all the formal dinners that her family had to attend.

It was ridiculous! Why couldn’t they just stay in Roidan? It’s where they lived, after all. There was no point in traveling across the country to attend a pointless dinner.

But, despite everything there was a glimmer of hope in Lydia. A week ago, she had heard whispers of priceless jewels within the Duke of Cantol’s manor, and an anonymous person who had wished to possess them. Lydia had heard that someone would steal them, and she was determined to stop them. Determined to show how skilled she was with both her blades and her wit. Determined to show that she wasn’t the helpless little girl everyone insisted on seeing.

Lydia was so much more. She just needed everyone else to see it as well.

“Lydia! Stop pouting, and hurry up!” Her mom bustled into the room, her gown an atrocious combination of velvet and tulle. It nearly swallowed Lydia up, as her mom grabbed her hand, and pulled her through the doorway.

“The Duke was kind enough to allow us to stay here, and you thank him by making us late?” Her mother sighed. “When will you grow up?”

Lydia bit back a retort, instead gripped the handle of a dagger buried within the folds of her dress. It had been her fathers, until she had stolen it years ago and taught herself how to use it.

Lydia kept her mouth shut, and her fingers strangling the hard hilt. Head raised high, Lydia followed her mother down the grand stairs, and into the dining room.

The room was large, with at least twenty people sitting around a large, deep mahogany table. Lydia vaguely wondered how much it had cost.

Looking around the table, she barely registered the faces. She knew everyone. Until her gaze settled on a mismatched pair, sitting closest to the door.

A man, with short red hair, and soft pink skin sat next to a girl, looking to be about Lydia’s age. The girl had dark skin and hair a black so deep, Lydia thought she was looking at a starless sky. She was not from here, that was for sure. Lydia felt herself be drawn to her, as if some form of magnetic attraction.

“Lydia,” her mother hissed. “Sit!” She nearly forced Lydia into the chair, right next to the duke himself.

Lydia tried not to grimace. She didn’t want to spend the evening wearing a forced smile and pretend to be the perfect lady. She looked up again, trying to spot a glimpse of the other girl. She sat perfectly still, her back almost like a ruler. Her face was perfectly poised, just the slightest hint of a smile, no sign of anger or uncomfortableness. She looked perfectly at ease.

Lydia had to stop herself from sighing. Disappointing. Another perfect noble, someone Lydia could never be. Never wanted to be.

And then, she spotted the crack in the other girl's impenetrable armor. Her fingers, tapping out an anxious rhythm against the elegant table cloth. That tiny sliver of personality, of imperfection made Lydia almost burst into a grin.

Under the layers of makeup, and finery, and jewels, she was still a child, just like Lydia. She was human. She was human, and she was real, and maybe, just maybe, Lydia could be real too.

But it was foolish to entertain such an unrealistic notion. So Lydia tamped her smile down, and turned to her food, ignoring the stare the other girl was burning into her head.

---

“Who will be most likely to know where the jewels are?” Elias asked Sloane under his breath.

Sloane glanced around the table. “The Duke, and a few of the servants.” Her eyes were fixed on the only other child at the table. A girl, around her age sat next to the Duke, her blonde hair twisted into a bun. A few strands had escaped, and were floating loose around her head. The girl was staring at her food, refusing to look around.

“Sloane!” Elias hissed.

Sloane stiffened with annoyance. “What?” they spat.

“I asked who you will need to talk to to discern the location of the jewels?”

“This isn’t a quiz. You don’t need to test me, I’ll get it done.”

“I do, actually,” Elias responded. “I’m not just here to steal, I’m here to supervise and see if you actually could handle a permanent position within the organization. The elders asked me to oversee, and if all went satisfactory, then you would get a chance. And if not… well failure isn’t tolerated.”

Sloane froze. She knew a lot had been riding on this for her, but she hadn’t known how much. She hadn’t known everything was.

“I’ll ask again. Who will you ask?”

“The girl,” Sloane said quickly. She nodded across the table pointedly.

“Her? She has no idea where they are!”

Sloane sighed. “Yes, but young ears are attuned to what others miss. And, I’m her age. Befriend her, get her to trust me, and I’ll find them.”

“You think that’ll work?” Elias scoffed.

“I’m willing to bet everything on it,” Sloane responded. She turned her fiery gaze to him. “Trust me, I can do this.”

Elias hesitated, before reluctantly nodding. “If you’re sure… But the servants would be a better choice.”

Sloane didn’t respond. They turned her gaze back to the girl, mind already racing to plot it all out.

---

Lydia walked her perfect little steps, completely in sync with her mom. She kept her head bowed low, and eyes downcast.

Perfect daughter, perfect lady.

God, she was tired of it all. Her hands had the imprint of a dagger on them, from clutching the blade so tight.

A hand reached out, touching her shoulder.

It was the girl, a slight smile on her face and a far off gleam in her eyes.

Her other companion stood right behind her, his suit tailored and pressed to perfection.

“My Lady, if I may,” he said smoothly, his voice like butter, “my young cousin hasn’t often gotten the opportunity to interact with ones of her own age. I was wondering, with your permission, if the two of them might be able to talk, if only for a bit?” His hands rested on the girls shoulders.

Lydia looked up at her mom, daring to hope.

“I suppose. My little girl is much the same. Why don’t we let the two of them run along to the library.” Her mom knelt down her face at Lydia’s level now. “Learn what you can about them, yes dear? What threat they may pose to your future crown. And don’t forget who you are.” She gripped Lydia’s shoulders tightly.

Lydia nodded. Always some scheme, and other motive. Just once, could her mother let her have something with no string attached?

“Good girl. Now run along, and don’t forget.” With a barely concealed shove, she sent Lydia tumbling down a side hallway, the other girl close behind.

Lydia led them to the library, not bothering to talk. Her throat was tight with something other than tears. She pushed open the ornate wooden doors, and practically collapsed inside.

The other girl looked around the room with a critical eye. Looking at everything, Lydia noted. Interesting.

“Where are you from?” Lydia blurted out. “I’ve never seen you before.”

The other girl turned to face her, amused. “You presume to know everyone in this world, then?” Her voice was more rough than Lydia expected, and strangely lilted, as if trying to hide something underneath.

Lydia blushed. “No. But I know most nobles. I’ve never met you before. So, where are you from?”

“Abrynth, as are you.”

“You don’t look it,” Lydia retorted bluntly.

The other girl laughed. “Straight forwards and honest. You're different.” Not a question, just a simple fact.

But it was so much more.

“And is that good?” Lydia couldn’t help but ask.

The other girl paused. “Well, I personally think that when everything’s the same, we lose sight of what we are as a whole.”

“And that is….?”

The other girl grinned, showing a flash of white teeth. “One people, no good and no bad. All unique and all the same. Something so beautiful and powerful.”

“So good then?”

“Definitely.” The other girl extended a hand out to Lydia. “I’m Sloane.”

Lydia paused, hesitant to reply. She didn’t want this girl to know the proper lady she was supposed to be. The one raised to one day court the prince, and hopefully become queen. The one whose very name meant royalty. Her mom’s voice echoed in her head, saying, “Lydia means noble one, beautiful one. You’ll live up to that one day. Focus, and one day you’ll be queen, at the King’s side.”

Lydia hated that version of herself. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t her.

But she was a Jordan. Sharp tongued and quick witted. Handy with a blade, but not so with words. She was her fathers daughter, the son he had wanted in every way but gender.

“Jordan,” Lydia replied, shaking Sloane’s hand firmly. Just a single word, but it changed everything. And it felt so right.

“I’m pleased to meet your acquaintance,” Sloane said, grinning.

“Likewise.”

---

Despite everything, Sloane couldn’t help but like Jordan. The noble was more aware than the others. She was smart, and bright, and honest.

But Sloane only felt a little guilty about using her. It wasn’t like she was hurting Jordan by doing this anyways. She was helping herself, and no one else. It wasn’t as if Jordan wanted for anything, after all. She was a noble. The world practically bowed at her feet.

“Is this your first time here?” Jordan asked, breaking the silence.

Sloane nodded. “My cousin doesn’t often travel. This is his first time bringing me anywhere.”

“Your parents don’t bring you?”

Sloane froze, unsure how to respond. What had they decided her backstory was? Fuck.

“They’re dead. I live with my cousin now, at least till I’m old enough to be on my own.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jordan said, actually seeming sincere.

Sloane smiled slightly. “Thank you. I try not to think about it too much.”

Jordan nodded. “Well, that’s understandable.”

Sloane nodded, with what they hoped was appreciation. In truth, it felt more like a grimace.

For a few hours, Sloane let them get lost in the world. She and Jordan talked about everything. Sloane was surprised by their similarities. It was only when Jordan’s shoulders finally relaxed, and her fists stopped clenching in her dress, that sloane knew the other girl fully trusted her.

“I was wondering,” she added, making her tone more shy, and apprehensive. “My uncle had mentioned the Duke was an avid collector of all things old. Have you seen any of them?”

Jordan’s face gleamed. “No, but I know where they are,” she said, smirking. “Do you want to see?”

Sloane hesitated. “Is that allowed?”

Jordan’s grin widened. “No.” She extended a hand, and Sloane hesitantly placed her own inside it.

She knew she had been right. Jordan had been the right person to use. She was leading Sloane towards the goal, not a doubt in her mind. Sloane would earn her place within the organization. The elders would see that she truly was a worthy thief. She’d show them.

Sloane followed Jordan as she led them out of the library, and through the halls. They were mostly quiet now, the guests retired to the parlor by now. It was just Sloane and Jordan, almost as if no one else had ever existed.

Jordan stopped in front of a door, and slowly pushed it inwards.

Sloane bit back a gasp as she saw the trove of treasures within. The room was a study, but it seemed more storage than anything. Priceless pieces were arranged on bookshelves and cases all over the room.

Old pieces of pottery, and intricate blades. Tapestries, and scrolls cracked with age.

But no jewels. Yet.

“Oh,” Sloane breathed, breathless from the beauty. And anger crackling within her ribs. These were all no doubt stolen from other nations and people. She couldn’t help but wonder how many of these things had come without the price of blood.

Jordan was similarly mesmerized, her eyes stuck on a pair of matching daggers.

“This is amazing,” Sloane said. “There’s so much.”

Jordan’s eyes brightened. “But would you like to see more?”

Sloane’s body tensed with anticipation. She was only supposed to locate the jewels, but if she could steal them now, then it would be less risky, wouldn’t it? No one would believe Jordan if she said the other girl at dinner had taken them. Barely anyone even noticed them. She doubted that they had all even realized she had been there.

“There’s more?” Sloane widened her eyes.

Jordan grinned, and stepped to a tapestry hanging on the walls. “I heard from a servant that the Duke had demanded nobody touch this tapestry. Claimed it was fragile. But-” she tugged it off the wall, sending the fabric tumbling to the floor. “I believe differently,” she said proudly, standing next to a newly revealed hole in the wall. A small wooden chest gleamed from within. Sloane felt her feet carry her closer, her deft fingers opening the box, and a smile lighting up her face as a collection of red, blue, and white stones gleamed up at her.

“Are these…?” Sloane asked, barely needing confirmation.

Jordan peared over her shoulder. “Ruby, diamond, and sapphire,” she whispered. “That’s gotta be worth…” she whistled. “At least 300,000 crowns.”

Sloane grinned. Confirmation enough. She snapped the lid shut, and turned to face Jordan sharply.

“Thank you, My Lady,” Sloane smirked, curtsying shallowly. “You’ve been quite helpful.” She grabbed the tiny chest, and shoved it into a pocket sewn into the inside of her skirt.

Jordan stared at her slack jawed with confusion. Then, realization dawned upon her. “It was you! You were the one who was going to steal tonight.”

Sloane stared at the girl, head cocked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I knew someone was attempting to steal tonight. But it should have been a man! An adult! You… You’re just a little girl.”

Sloane snorted. “Well, that little girl has places to be, and money to make. Get out of my way Jordan.”

“You used me,” Jordan spat. “I wanted a friend for the night, and you just wanted those jewels.”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “Don’t take it personally. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t completely lie about everything, I was pleased to make your acquaintance. You led me here, after all.” Sloane smirked. She was on top of the world. She was going to prove the world that she was good. She wasn’t just another useless pickpocket. That one day, she was going places. “Now get out of my way, and forget you ever met me. It’s easier for both of us that way.”

Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t let that happen.” She reached into the folds of her dress, and drew a long silver dagger.

“Put that back before you kill yourself,” Sloane scoffed.

“Try me.” Jordan was all hard edges now. Gone was the soft laughter, and gently smiles. She was completely serious.

Sloane was starting to think that Jordan was more than she had said she was. But it didn’t matter. No matter how good Jordan might be, Sloane would be better. She wasn’t ready to let herself be defeated by a noble. Not now, not ever.

Sloane darted forwards, quicker than lightning. She jabbed under Jordan’s stomach, knocking the wind out of the girl.

Jordan recovered quickly, and threw a punch towards Sloane’s face, grazing her cheek bone.

Sloane ducked under another blow, and kicked her legs out at Jordan’s face while flipping out of the noble’s hands.

Jordan knew what she was doing, Sloane would admit. In a fair fight, she may even stand a chance. But Sloane didn’t fight fair. She fought rough, and dirty. She survived, no matter what her actions were. That's where the two girls differed.

Sloane tackled Jordan, knocking them into a display case, the glass breaking under their weight.

“You aren’t getting away,” Jordan grunted.

Sloane laughed. “Keep telling yourself that,” she hissed. Sloane grinned, and leapt away from Jordan, right before the girl swung a punch towards her unprotected face.

Sloane backed away quickly, letting Jordan block the door.

“Nowhere to go,” Jordan taunted. “What’ll you do now.”

“My lady, it has been a pleasure,” Sloane said, bowing deeply. “But I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere, and must call it a night.” In a single smooth motion, Sloane leapt out of the window, sending jagged shards of glass everywhere.

Jordan leapt forwards, too late to stop her.

Sloane had managed to catch a hold of the balcony on the next room over, and was quickly scaling down the wall, using ledges and decorative gargoyles as holds, Jordan’s silver dagger clenched between her teeth.

Sloane finally dropped to the ground, and waved up at Jordan standing far above. She slipped the stolen dagger into her waistline, and reached up into her skirt, pulling out the jewels.

The box was still shut tight, the contents rattling around inside.

“What the hell?” Elias screamed, running around the corner. “Locate them! You were supposed to locate them! We need to go, before the Duke realizes a child tried to steal his prize jewels.” He hooked his arm through Sloane’s and started dragging her away. “You aren’t ready to steal them. You ruined the job, for both of us.” He glared at Sloane. “You are taking blame for this. This is your failure.”

“Failure?” Sloane asked. “What do you mean? I got them!” She held out the box, rattling the jewels inside.”

Elias stopped dead in his tracks. “You got them? You actually succeeded?”

“Yes,” Sloane responded, her voice laced with annoyance. “I’m a good thief, a good fighter, a good liar. I’ve been trying to prove this to you all along. I did it. Will you recommend me to the elders now?”

Elias sniffed. “You are reckless, arrogant, loud. You are unable to follow simple instructions. But, you got it done.” He smiled slightly. “You impressed me, little thief. Well done.”

Sloane grinned. She cast her gaze back to the broken window one last time, where she could make out the shape of Jordan, still standing and staring at the two thieves.

Sloane bowed, as if she was on a stage, performing some great act. Then she hurried to catch up to Elias, and her future.

---

Lydia was furious with her mother, with Sloane, but mostly with herself. She had allowed Sloane to find the jewels, and couldn’t even stop her. Lydia was a failure.

But she wouldn’t be again.

Sloane may have bested Lydia once, but never again. She’d see the thief again, and Lydia would catch her, and prove to the world that she was more than just a lady, meant to sit and look pretty. She was strong, smart, and talented.

She’d catch the thief, and show them all who she was.

Not a beautiful noble lady, as her first name suggested.

No. Lydia had never felt right for a reason. It wasn’t who she was. She was Jordan, loyal to the country, and to herself.

She wasn’t anything but that.

Her name was Jordan, and she would catch Sloane, and make her hurt for giving Jordan a glimpse of a future she could never have. .

[jellicle-jemmy]

Here is part 2 of my CATS (2019) thoughts that I wrote when I watched the movie for the first time 2 years ago!

Beautiful Ghosts

Francesca you’re doing wonderful sweetie

You’re obviously not a trained singer, but for the purpose of your character’s plot point and reason to be singing it fits so perfectly

Though the arc of beloning with the jellicles came too fast and too soon in the film

She should’ve sung verse 1, chorus, verse 2 and maybe another chorus now and then the bridge later in the film

Moments of Happiness

Judi Dench no

Bring in Syllabub

That is all

Dialogue Interlude

Okay I didn’t mind this bit

However Victoria had already had the arc that she belongs with the Jellicles so her apprehension didn’t make sense

Gus The Theatre Cat

Does ALW suddenly have something against duets?

God Bless Ian McKellen but this number was really quite bleh

I did notice Skimbles putting his tap shoes on side stage

Would’ve been cuter if Misto did the duet with him

Magic Misto boy was cute at the end tho

WHY SO MUCH YOWLING THO??!!

That “I could do it again” comment was a nice nod though

I’m still not entirely sure how Macavity makes Gus disappear but alright then

Skimbleshanks

This is another number that I really enjoyed

Munkymoo again ur doing so good

Also ur little duet with your daughter syllabub - I saw that and I loved it

Tap dancing skimbles is not something i thought i’d like, but I did really like it

It was a really fun number

How they got to the traintracks, idk but ya know what who cares

Thinking about it now, the transition from the tracks to carriage, I’m just imagining like several minutes of awkward silence as they all shuffle onto a carriage and then “5, 6, 7, 8-″ and the number continues

Plato and Socrates being the guard asking about the tea was adorable

It took everything in me to not shout “WEAK OR STRONG”

Also not totally hating on Skimbles redesign

Deadass though, 2019!Skimbles X 2019! Jenny wouldn’t work

But yeah this is a fun number

OKAY NOW SKIMBLES IS A FAIRY FLYER OKAY THEN

He Jay Jay Jetplaned right up there huh

All the other kidnapping, Macavity put actual effort, but Skimbles just went fwoop fwoop fwoop up into the sky

Macavity The Mystery Cat

Okay

Okay then

Here we go

Taylor Swift

This number would actually be good if the CGI didn’t look appalling and Taylor Swift wasn’t singing like that

It’s so breathy and weak wtf

Are you trying to be sexy? That ain’t sexy hun. That ain’t it cheif

Low key want a bedazzled thing that says catnip ngl

This choreography is really.... somethin’

Honestly, the best thing about this number was the cinema’s horrified gasps when nakey nakey macavity showed up

Listen listen, mac’s appearance wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t look like he had oil on him, rather than fur!! longer fur please i beg of you

shortest short hair in the history of the world

ALSO DRUGGING OF THE CATS

WTF

The catnip looks like fireflies from hell

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer being Bomba’s assistants? Gold. Love it

Why didn’t you do more with Griddlebone? Why didn’t you do more with Griddlebone?!

I never needed to see Taylor Swift and Oiled Up Idris Elba as cats dancing, let alone up a staircase straight from a 1940′s Broadway Musical

Kidnapping Interlude

Dooch (Old Doot Dench) really just said “access denied”

“I judge a cat on his soul” “he has soul!” “i’ve got plenty of soul”

The way that Lonz (???) and Munk all but flying over to M&R - fuckig superb you funky protectors

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer you wonderful chaotic dumbasses what did you think was going to happen

All of the contestants tied up? Yeah okay. Skimbles looks like he’s suffocating and everyone else is just fine with it I guess?

“Walk the plank”

Magical Mr Mistofelees

In case y’all haven’t heard, Laurie Davidson aka Mr Mistofelees is babey

Who is biting on Misto’s hat?

Also Syllabub you are so into this and I love it!

I’m about to say something controversial please don’t come for me - I think it worked that Munk and Misto were singing Mr Mistofelees

Who needs a hype man when you’ve got the Jellicle Tribe?

Cass’ face is a mood and a half and I high key want a gif of it

Victoria’s faith in him is beautiful

Oh no I’m shipping them

oh no

that wasn’t part of the plan

Syllabub you are literally the most fascinated out of the whole group and I adore you so damn much

The summoning attempts went on maybe a little bit too long and there wasn’t as much theatrics about as I had hoped

The happiness on the Jellicles faces is wholesome as heck though - especially Munk and also Tugger

And then misto flew and honestly I am so proud of him

He is my son! Look at my son go!

Also the ending bit with Vic and Misto dancing together in the middle for some reason gave me flashbacks to the end of the Greatest Showman

But very cute

Memory (Reprise)

Let’s first of all address the elephant in the room: I am still furious that they gave Syllabub/Jemima’s roles to Victoria and that definitely showed while I was watching it BUT-

I don’t think it would’ve worked in the film if Syllabub sang those bits

Syllabub works in the show, not the movie

Ummmm why is Victoria touching Griz before the “touch me” line???

Everyone’s - especially Munk’s - distaste for Griz as Vic leads her in was just really good and I liked it

The reprise is better than the original

The way that Cassandra’s expressions and actions change, especially during this number really makes it seem like she is the daughter of Griz and deadass I’m here for it

Still mad about Syllabub’s not getting to sing her but but it’s fiiiiiiine i guessss

Also there is a shot of Syllabub and Demeter together somewhere during this scene and I 1) don’t care that they don’t look anything alike and 2) don’t know who I have to sell my soul to but I will find it and treasure it

MUNK CRYING HURT MY SOUL AND HEART OF HEARTS

THAT’S NOT OKAY

NOT AT ALL

MY HEART IS ACHING

Macavity Battle

What the heck is this? It’s epic music that our pal Munkystripes uses to fight Mr Macaroni but it’s... a comedy?

“Don’t mess with the crazy cat lady” Rebel why

Also why did jenny unzip herself again i didn’t like it the first time, why is it even worse in the second but

oop Macavity’s not there

Ahh the use of the Firefrorefiddle line to scare Growltiger off, I genuinely adore

Journey to the Heaviside Layer

Ughh those harmonies always get me going

Again I am all eyes on Sillabub

I wondered how they were going to do the ascension into the heaviside layer

Not like that

Not like that

Chandelier and hot air balloon............oooookay then

All the cats on the lion being happy to see their kidnapped pals was genuinely sweet

Also Syllabub got to stand with all like the other named cats, and not with the ensemble which makes my heart happy

Macavity wtf

The Addressing of Cats

God, I really do ship Mistoria in this film huh? Was the plotline rushed? Yes. Does my hopeless romantic heart care? Nope!

Dooch really just went 😐 huh

I hate it

No

Nope.

The adressing of cats should be a final part of the ceremony not a fucking fourth wall break jesus christ

Okay, but Munk’s reaction when Dooch started talking about food

hhhhh Babey

Though if Dooch could stop staring into my soul, that’d be appreciated

“I believe you are a Jellicle Cat - a dear little cat”

I liked that line for two reasons. 1) It is a nod to the origin to the phrase “Jellicle cat”. 2) It makes me think that that is the only true qualifications to be a Jellicle, making Victoria undoubtedly a Jellicle because have you seen her??

Was that final shot of the balloon necessary?

[legionofpotatoes]

alright here’s ma thoughts on that flick I mentioned

we hatewatched a*my of the dead because we were CONVINCED “zombies in las vegas” would be an impossible concept to screw up, but in so assuming we obviously invoked a holy wager with the universe and got reminded, once again, that hoping for improvement from someone who’s dependably put out bad art is never a wise choice 😐

but we were honestly kinda roped in by the marketing??? and expected a goofy fast-paced flick with the odd traditional undead metaphor thrown in, framing some sort of relationship drama maybe or hell even nothing at all! we’d have taken pure indulgent storytelling, idk italian job with zombies in las vegas, I don’t know fucking anything but??? whatever this was???? spoilers below for it is time for One Of My Rants

I mean the main reason I really want to write all this and complain. this film here probably has the most unappealing cinematography I have ever experienced in my life and that is saying something. who the fuck signed off on that CONSTANT shallow-ass depth of field that imprisons your eyeline and turns every shot into bokeh paste???? and I mean every shot almost!!!! I promise if you think I am overreacting just throw a dart at the seek bar and watch twenty seconds from wherever it lands. it is horrifying to look at. at least it gave my girlfriend a good visual shorthand for what it’s like when I lose my glasses

why was sean spicer in this movie. did they pay him to be here. was sean spicer paid hollywood money for his scene in this film because fuck everyone who was involved in that decision

the legitimately baffling hints at the extraterrestrial origins of the infection that went absolutely nowhere and had no dramatic or plot-level bearing. we love to see the franchise sprouts fellas

yet another big budget waste of everything hiroyuki sanada has to offer. and bautista too I guess? I like him but man was this an odd career move

what was the crux of his conflict/resolution with his daughter btw. I understand it was rooted in miscommunication over their forms of grief irt mom but uhh… it was all rather clunky and didn’t land for me. I tried I really tried to buy in but something was wrong fundamentally with the groundwork there, it did not click and their catharsis felt unearned. I know there’s massive amounts of tragic baggage being projected there from the author so I’m not slapping any judgment down really;

but again it would be an easy thing to wave off if they just had a vibrant cast of lovable simpletons with good chemistry and the kinetic sense of plotting the trailers promised (and this premise never discounts good drama, either). but instead it was just two and a half (!) hours of meandering into situations the filmmaking instincts had no idea how to flow in and out of

to wit. I know talking about “bad pacing” is associated with armchair bullshit but consider the example of the scene were dieter does an out of nowhere little dance after childishly screaming but then still-killing a zombie, with the film framing this as a micro character triumph, and not a second later the bg soundtrack instantly fades into an orchestral score dramatizing a nearby mcguffin reveal, completely 180 degreeing the tone without a semblance of deft insert shot stitching or even I dont know a fucking jump cut maybe. now imagine this whiplash for 2.5 hrs uninterrupted

I will keep complaining about the length yeah because this was not a story requiring this much real estate to be told. Uhh in my humble and personal opinion, of course

[man sees zombie tiger] “this is crossing the line!” you can in fact write dialogue that is not utter nonsense that falls apart once you drill down its single fickle layer of referential meta winking. what line are you talking about. you have rules in this insane situation you’re in? total nitpick moment I know but it got burned in my brain for some reason. like a microcosm of the mismanaged dramatic instincts paired with weird writing that dots this movie. I am sure the director calls this either satire or genre deconstruction. I am SO sure

tumblr domino meme that goes from “dude getting sucked off while driving” to “entire las vegas literally nuked”

tig notaro is always great to see but once you know she’s been filmed as a separate greenscreen plate months after photography wrapped - cause she had to apparently replace some abusive asshole but that’s a whole other pig not worth fucking - it becomes impossible to unsee her odd detachment from everyone else in the movie lmao. it doesn’t really “ruin” anything on its lonesome but it is hard to unsee

why. was. sean. spicer. in. this. movie

a very simple key ingredient missing from fully turning lip service sympathy for main uruk hai dude into actual empathy that would generate meaningful conflict with hero family would be to spend a bit more time articulating what he internally wanted the most. because he was obviously trying to do something here with pointed agenda. a family, to have kids, build a caste system, save his wife’s head, return to his planet??? all of these could represent the bigger context in his psychology that spurred his vengeance but none of them are dramatically emphasized long enough for you to cheer him on. I’m not asking too much I promise. Articulating interiority of a mute character is pretty doable with deft cinema language, just gotta linger and hold a shot here and there for a few seconds, frame as his POV, donezo. I know this is also one of those like. “who cares” moments but the movie does, very evidently so, in making this guy an actual character. you can kinda piece it together and create a framework of sympathy for him, sure, but then again he ultimately becomes a foil to be killed and not defeated, so. Ehh whatever

quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was n

the rooftop helicopter fakout at the end was such an ass-backwards, manufactured moment of what could be a simple setup/payoff it just pissed me off??? you gain nothing by giving sad dad five seconds of pointless crisis that flips right back to previous status quo ANYWAY, except for a weaksauce waste of runtime, which could be used instead to get inside notaro’s head and actually SHOW the remorse form as she took off, literally maybe even a frown playing on her face as she’s headed for safety right before we cut back to drax and the kid. just a simple-ass, minimal, momentary setup for what is the most basic filmmaking trick of creating macro catharsis moments. Just???? g o d if you can’t even land that shit why are you even doing any of this

that lil run final pam did was very very charming and super choreographed in a way that was the tiiiniest bit overdone

the whole intro with the simul-backstories and posing with family photos was just… oddly motivated. what was the goal? “here’s what we’re fighting for” vignettes? why? it’s not a functional setup in that vein. what was all that

also I am sorry if this is insensitive but the reasons most characters end up articulating to justify going back into the hell that destroyed their lives makes them sound seriously insane

I dont like complaining about CGI (honestly) but so much of it in modern movies can achieve higher fidelity if the animation is simply subdued. Do not overengineer and over-apply 2D cell methodologies and kinematics to each tiny twitch and movement in a hyper 3D model and I promise you. it will look a thousand times more natural. look at thanos in those last two movies. your rendering and detail are absolutely perfect with the tiger you just have to let stuff sit instead of constantly simulating swaying hair strands and firing off all facial muscles at once. great moment at one point where makeup zombie horse and CG zombie tiger are both in one shot together and just by unnecessary amounts of movement alone you can tell who doesn’t belong. again; detail, rendering, compositing, lighting, all picture-perfect; but y’all just gotta let the animation breathe sometimes, and chill it out

plot holes don’t really matter to me but it was kinda funny how lilly decided not to mention the enormous wrinkle in intel pertaining to an actual territorial tribe of intelligent zombies that require human offerings to let you pass, just so that reveal could play out in real time through the joyous punishment of the cartoonishly misogynistic dude

total chad move for mister uruk hai and final pam to rule from a rusted swimming pool complex

the ending with vanderohe oh my god. with the. cash stacks at the airport register. and specifically them working in his favor. that is literally something you do to get arrested under suspicion of theft. it was almost played for laughs and I respect that. coulda been goofier. make these movies goofy ya dorks

anyway, weird, weird movie. bad marketing. message unclear (something something sins of the father???), baffling editing instincts, literal worst-looking cinematography I ever laid eyes upon. Confidently dying on that last hill

[aenslem]

Challenge: From your creations, choose GIFs and do a split of before and after adding colouring!

tagged by @uuuhshiny . i have done these things before, here and here.  but okay, i’ll do one more :D though, since i don’t gif recently i just found my old gif psds that i have not removed yet, and just resaved them, so sorry for the speed on the gifs, i did not really paid attention lmao the point is coloring anyway, right?? 

tagging @comicbookvillain​ @tennant​ @arthurpendragonns @rory-amy and whoever wants to do it :D

i love changing colors, i love when they are vibrant, i am also the kind of person who will turn everything into purple, but if the scene is purple i will try my best to make it look normal af and remove all the purple lmao idk why tho

changing colors is fun, like i did that on my pink Doctor Who gifset, and my golden Missy gifset

turning blue into pink or gold? im here for that :D but i rarely did it before, but i was challenged to do it, so i did :D and i think i did good.

if i see a kinda red hair, i will make it as vibrant as possible :D i also love when on gifs lips are red, idk why.

doctor who is a super hard to color, especially when you color doctor and the master, because i feel like show runners hate thoschei shippers considering all of doctor/master scenes are like this or worse

???

??????????

moffat what the heck?????? 

i mean, look at my doctor and master gifsets, i have a lot of them, those are all super edited because original scenes are the pain in the a$$ to color! they are either super dark blue or horrible yellow/red. 

i have not used this gif in a set, wanted to but it was extra so have it :D maybe one day i will make a gifset with yellow/blue combo and use it :D and i do love those two color combinations, like there are other colors too, but i make those two colors stand out so it looks nice. like the gif with miranda otto above, that color combination is really pretty 

also, i love making michelle gomez eyes really blue, or anyone’s lmao like if there are blue eyes consider me making them as vibrant as possible :D

not the best example, but it was not the best quality video and i did what i could. sometimes i make it with selective colors and hue and saturation, but sometimes i draw blue color over the gif. yeah, sometimes i love torturing myself and color each layer or a few layers and just move the layer where i need lmao

like previous insta videos of her i edited and made blue stand out, i did like that :/ but i would do more for that woman :D

my colorings are not super complicated, i usually upload those colorings i don’t use on my psd account @creationsofthedark​ so check it out, there are my first colorings i ever did, and the latest. you will not find channel mixer there tho, but it’s my fav tool now. i stopped updating the blog since... well, there was an incident where the person started doing what i asked to not to do, don’t copy me. i posted a gifsets with these colorings so why would you crop it the same way and color it with my coloring and post, the same scene??? after asking me sharpening settings also?? like, those were so similar i thought it is a repost tbh that’s why i stopped posting psds i use, and well, i use channel mixer mostly for correcting colors and it never works on 99% of the scenes, and i don’t wanna share coloring for one scene i already giffed, what is the point? so somebody could gif the same scene with the same coloring? nope. anyway, channel mixer as you see on previous creator tag games i did is really good when you need to correct colors, such as super red colors or yellow. unfortunately idk how to edit tHAT Doctor and Master scene from doctor falls, it’s the worst scene ever and i will not touch it again lmao, i tried I TRIED but... usual colorings which work fine on more than few scenes are uploaded on sideblog. and you may see there that i don’t do anything extraordinary, same settings almost everywhere, curves, levels if needed, selective colors and color balance are mostly used by me. and i always avoided using masks when i started giffing, but honestly that’s so good, don’t be scared to use them, they are really awesome when you need to correct part of the gif only. i also love using color fills, to change color of the background or a specific object, using blending modes, if the object does not move it is easy but sometimes it does not... like with the eyes, you have to draw over each layer or move the layer for each frame :D sometimes i use textures, but i usually blur them as on the first DW gif here. idk what else to say... :D

[wienerbarnes]

Feel Good

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,817

Warnings: lots o drinking (its new years!), mentions to being nervous/self-doubt, drunk sam wilson, perhaps some smooching idk guess u gotta read it man

A/N: ngl I have like 4 cheek to cheek one shots that I wrote yesterday instead of working on school work or art commissions so lets enjoy this before that motivation spark dies okay enjoy my two fav ppl ever

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

“Agent 51, stay behind, please.”

You meet Sam’s eye, confused for two reasons - this was supposed to be a quick debriefing after a mission, and he’s never called you out specifically before. You give him a nod and obligatory Yes, Captain before making eyes with Sharon, who gives you a quick smile before exiting the room with the other agents. That doesn’t give you anything. Is there already another mission? But if there was another mission, wouldn’t Sharon have stayed? Wouldn’t Bucky be here? Does it involve Bucky? Does-

“I want you to start training with the other recruits when they begin next week.” Sam informs you once the door closes behind the last person.

Oh.

This Friday is New Year’s Eve, meaning Monday begins the seven-week training led by Sergeant Barnes for wannabe Avengers Agents, before whoever remains continues on to undercover and psychological training with Sharon and other legendary retired agents of the field.

“Are you... sure?” You didn’t think there was a problem with the training you were currently doing with Sam, in fact, you thought you were doing pretty good for someone who hasn't followed a strict workout regimen in ten years. This would be the first time being around so many people with a greater chance of interacting. All of the meetings you go to have made you a little more comfortable with larger crowds, but you haven’t actually spoken to anyone.

“You know your file well?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes, I’m sure.”

“I want you to continue your training with me on the weekends, though.” Sam adds.

Working out seven days a week? I might’ve considered prison if I knew this was a part of the deal.

“Won’t all of that all the time be hard?” You offer, suddenly scared for your biceps and hamstrings.

“Are you asking me if training to become a team member of the Avengers is hard?” Sam gives you a pointed look.

“...Right.” You stand, assuming that was all he had to tell you about.

“Also, there’s a little party Friday night. Nothing crazy, just me, Sharon, Bucky, Sharon and I are bringing some dates, maybe a few agents, but they usually go out and party. They don’t want to hang out with us more than they already have to around here.” He mentions as you reach the door.

Your hand pauses on the knob. A party. What if they pull some Carrie shit on you?

“A party?” You ask, eyebrows failing to conceal your silent fears as they tilt upward at him.

“I promise, it won’t be anything insane. I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t think it was something you could handle.” He reassures.

Friday comes sooner than you’d hoped, and your anxiety still lingers, as much as you’d hoped it’d go away by now. You glance at the time, 8:00 in the evening. This was the time Sam told you everything would more or less be starting, but that you could go whenever you wanted, if you wanted.

You’ve actually been ready for about an hour, just too scared to go to the common area where everything was taking place.

You feel like you’re a teenager again; being invited to an event where you feel as though you won’t belong. An event where you know that everyone is so drastically different than you. You wonder how you would feel if you were different; if you weren’t so fucked up with trauma. Would you be a party person? Drinking and dancing through your twenties? Hooking up with men and women, maybe even having relationships?

You’re dressed in a short lilac romper, layers of silky ruffles around the tops of your thighs, and thin straps across your shoulders that cross against your back. The neckline is a tad low, a complimenting V that you’ve filled with layers of necklaces. Nude platforms put you about two inches taller without the fear of a heel, and you’re nervously picking at your recently painted green fingernails in anticipation for what the night will bring.

It’s not too late to not go. You can just tell Sam you ended up not feeling well, tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. not to let anyone bother you. Just take all these clothes off and put on your pajamas, and we can pretend you haven’t been thinking about this night for the last three days and spent all day thinking about what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to act, reviewing your file just in case anyone asks you anything - we can just pretend you were going to be staying in the whole time.

You stand to begin slipping the straps from your shoulders, mind made up, when a knock sounds at the door.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., who is that?” You whisper out.

“It’s Sergeant Barnes, Agent.” The A.I. relays in an equally hushed voice.

You sigh and walk over to the door before opening it a few inches.

“Hey! You look so cute! Party’s getting started, let's go!” He steps back out to the hallway, an excited smile on his face which drops when he focuses more on the frown that decorates your own face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately stepping back towards you.

“... I’m nervous.” You all but whimper out. Why do you have to be such a baby?

“Why are you nervous?” Bucky asks, his voice calm as he genuinely wants to know what’s troubling you, not an accusatory tone found in his voice.

“Because there’s going to be a lot of people, and I don’t know anyone, and I’ve never been to these kinds of parties, or at least I haven’t in, like, a decade.” You ramble, exasperated with yourself.

“Would it make you feel better if I stayed with you the whole night? Either here or down at the party?” He offers, ready to give up one of his favorite nights for you.

“Bucky, I’m not going to make you -”

“You’re not making me, I’m offering. Besides, Sam’s all over the girl he brought and Sharon’s halfway drunk with her little boyfriend; they’re not going to be much fun for me tonight.” Bucky justifies, sounding like the eldest of three having to deal with their younger siblings.

“C’mon, you’re really gonna waste a dress like that? And your hair looks all nice! And - wait a minute, are those new earrings?” Bucky butters you, showering you with compliments in a sweet tone, metal hand reaching out to touch at the earrings hanging from your ears, the small tink sounding right in your ear.

A girlish giggle escapes you at his teasing. “Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me. But you promise you don’t mind staying with me all night?”

“I promise, there’s no one else I’d rather spend the night with.”

The common area isn’t how you expected it to be; there’s definitely more people than Sam promised there’d be, but it’s not the thousands of strangers you’d imagined in your head.

“Let’s get a drink,” Bucky’s deep voice speaks in your ear, and you’re not sure if it's his voice that makes you shiver or his warm hand in yours, but the two of you make your way to the bar.

“What do you drink?” He asks you, after ordering the name of some drink for himself.

“Uhm - I don’t, I don’t know.” You mutter to him. He scans your face for a second before rattling off the name of some other drink to the person behind the bar.

You never really drank; sure, you had the shitty beer as a teenager or perhaps a celebratory shot during your time in the Navy, but nothing you remember explicitly. You weren’t even old enough to drink in the Navy, you had turned twenty-one when you were already with HYDRA.

“Are you excited?” Bucky interrupts your thoughts of lost childhood.

“Excited?”

“For the New Year!” Bucky exclaims, and you give him a smile even if you don't understand the hoop-lah.

“Sure?” You offer.

“C’mon! There’s so much opportunity and promise that comes with a new year! A million chances to grow, to experience things, to learn, to have fun. A new chapter for everyone.” He explains.

You smile at his positivity. A new year should be good for you based on his logic. A new chapter. You’d be starting your training. Getting ahead as an agent. Using your powers to help for good. Maybe making friends. Maybe getting closer to Bucky.

The drinks arrive and you appreciate that Bucky knows you so well; the drink in front of you is bright pink, different fruits crowded around the rim with a curly straw sticking out. His is a deeper brown, in a short, crystal glass, figures. Matches his whole dark and emo aesthetic. He stands before you in black jeans and a black buttoned shirt, black leather jacket to sit on top.

You take a sip of your drink and immediately have to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from spitting it out. Am I that much of a lightweight or is there actual gasoline in this?

“Sorry, maybe I should’ve warned you, babe,” Bucky chuckles, amused at your reaction to a mixed drink. “I think there’s, like, four different things in that.” He wants to cringe for you, but all he can do is look at you with a cheeky smile while you struggle to swallow the sip down.

“Christ, Bucky, I’ll blackout by ten at this rate, are all of the drinks like this?”

“Honestly? Probably. Everyone loves getting drunk on New Year’s.”

…

The night is not nearly as bad as you were thinking it was going to be. The room is lit up in different colored lights and screens; all of the TV’s display the annual countdown in Times Square but are muted so that music can be played the whole night. People are dancing, drinking, laughing, having the most fun you’ve seen people have in a long time. It’s 11:51 now, and everyone’s gathering closer and closer in anticipation for the countdown into the new year.

You and Bucky are gathered together with Sam and Sharon, and their respective dates. You don’t think you’ll let Sam live down how drunk he is; you never thought you’d feel so much joy seeing your Captain slurring his words while making jokes and telling stories.

Sharon leans over to you and whispers, a gentle hand on your arm, “Can you come to the bathroom with me?” A small giggle escaping her because she, too, is equally drunk. You give her a nod and hand your drink to Bucky to watch over while you’re gone.

The bathroom makes your ears buzz with the silence you encounter and Sharon walks over to the mirror to retouch her makeup.

“I just needed a little breather, have you tried the drinks at the bar?” She asks, and you laugh knowing that that’s the reason she, and everyone else at the party, is wasted.

“Yeah, Bucky proceeded to warn me after I had started drinking.” Laughs are shared as she reapplies her lipstick, a bright red shade.

“Do you know who you’re gonna kiss tonight?” She asks, smirk playing on her lips.

Shit, I forgot about that. How awkward would it be if you’re the only one not having a partner to kiss at midnight? Don’t worry, plenty of lame, single, psychotic basket cases that hear voices don’t kiss people on New Year’s Eve!

“Oh, uhm, I probably won’t be kissing anybody.” You inform her with a nervous laugh.

“I think you should kiss Bucky.” She states matter-of-factly.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, why not? He’s not here with a date and he surely won’t kiss a stranger. I think last year Sam ended up planting one on him at midnight.” She laughs, a few hiccups interrupting her as she remembers that night.

As much as you want to join her in laughing at the thought of Sam drunkenly grabbing Bucky cheeks at midnight and smooching him, a pit opens up in your stomach at the thought of kissing Bucky.

“C’mon, T-minus five minutes.” Sharon tells you, interlocking her fingers with yours as she drags you back out to the common room.

The two of you rejoin the group and Bucky hands you your drink back, though you don’t feel much like drinking anymore, stomach suddenly knotted up with nerves. You’re torn because you don’t necessarily have a problem not kissing anybody, but now all you can think about is the urge to press your lips against Bucky’s, new year or not.

A husky voice whispers in your ear, “You okay? You look a little pale, you wanna head up to your room?” Bucky looks at you with concerned eyes, willing to go up to your room two minutes before midnight to ensure your comfort and wellbeing.

“I’m… I’m fine.” You reassure him, giving him the most unconvincing smile ever, even you wouldn’t believe you. He silently pulls you away from the group and pulls you into a hallway.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

His pet names are, for once, not helping right now.

You take a large gulp of your drink, stinging a bit, but hopefully it’ll give you some courage and relax you a bit. Bucky chuckles and gently takes the glass from your hand, “Hey,”

“I’m fine, just have some jitters, is all.” You try and convince.

You take the drink back and grab his hand with your open one and take him back out to the open area, a sixty second countdown already starting.

You quickly down the rest of your drink and discard it on a nearby table as the entire room begins chanting. Sam is the loudest, one arm wrapped around the waist of his date and the other wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky’s smiling at his enthusiasm, yelling the numbers just as loud as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to bring you in closer to the group. Sharon is on the other side of you, but her focus is on her date as they look into each other’s eyes, just waiting for the clock to strike twelve so they can share a kiss.

The ball drops on the TV and the room erupts in cheers and “Happy New Year!”’s. Sam unhooks himself from Bucky and turns to grab his date's face as they share a laugh-filled kiss. You glance at Sharon and you suspect her and her date began sharing kisses a few seconds early. Bucky’s arm is still wrapped around your shoulders and he tugs you closer so you’re face to face.

His grin is wide, “Happy New Year -”

His excitement is interrupted as your courage finally kicks in, and with a hand on either side of his face, you pull him in and press your lips to his.

It takes him less than two seconds to reciprocate, dropping his hands to your waist and pulling you closer as your hands slide from his cheeks to his neck, wrapping themselves around.

There’s no more anxiety. No more nerves. No more doubts or second-thoughts. No more voices, no more people in the room, no more music; it’s just you and Bucky in that moment.

His lips are soft and sweet, a strong taste of the drinks he’s had tonight with a mix of sweetness that’s all him. He smells like man and like Bucky and your senses are overwhelmed in the best way possible. Tingles travel down your spine at the feeling of being so close to him.

You’re so, so, so good. Sure, Bucky’s imagined kissing you, but he never thought it’d feel like this. You’re sweet like cherries and you’re soft all over and your perfume is flooding his nose and it’s all he wants to breathe for the rest of time. Your skin sends sparks of fire through his fingertips as they rest on your bare back and slide down to your silk-covered waist.

You pull away and Bucky sneaks a few extra pecks before pulling away completely, not removing his eyes from yours.

“Happy New Year.” He wishes you with a love-sick smile.

“Happy New -”

“Happy New Year, Tinman!” Sam yelps in both of your ears, arms wrapping around Bucky and disconnecting him from you, but you can’t help but laugh at Sam trying to plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek while he attempts to wrestle him off.

You feel electricity all over watching him, butterflies not only in your stomach, but all over your body, in every organ, in your bloodstream, in your head, everywhere. But as much as you feel as though you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel good; you feel really good.

A few months ago, you wouldn't have imagined that this is how you were going to be starting the new year. But here you are, and you feel good.

[bubblesuga]

Oblivious To Adoration - Prologue

A/N: Hi all! So this is a Prologue (written after the story, oops) that can work as a standalone but I highly suggest also checking out the rest of the story as well! 

W/C: 3,757

Warnings: smut, alcohol consumption, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, cum swallowing (if that should be a warning... idk lol), masturbation

Part 1

Exam season is finally over. 

You throw your pencils into your bag and slip it over your shoulder. Despite having studied for ages on each test, you still couldn’t shake the fact that you may have failed. Thousands of dollars down the drain simply because you didn’t absorb the information enough. Jungkook tells you that you’re too smart to worry about things like that but it just wouldn’t leave your head. 

You step out of the lecture hall and spot Jungkook leaning against the wall and talking to a girl. She seems to be flirting by the way she leaned next to him and batted her eyelashes. He seems uncomfortable, his eyes seeming to stare passed her. You roll your eyes, it’s not the first time that Jungkook had been hit on by a woman he was clearly not interested in. 

The moment he sees you, his expression changes and his face is lighting up. He seemingly forgets completely about the girl and pushes himself off the wall and fights his way through the crowd. 

“How did it go?” Jungkook questions, immediately leading you away. 

“I’m not sure yet.” You shrug, sighing in frustration. 

Jungkook gives you a look of sympathy, deciding not to press the matter while you head towards the exit of the building.  

“Get outta the way bitches, (Y/N) just finished her last exam!” Jungkook yelled, his hand on the small of your back while he pushes fellow students out of your path. You roll your eyes at the attention now brought on you, attempting to hide your smile. 

“Kookie you can’t call people bitches.” You groan as he pushes the door open. Jungkook abruptly slips his backpack off his shoulders and punts it down the long stairs. You gasp as it slips right in between a couple of students and Jungkook cringes in apology while he runs down the stairs to go pick it up. 

You let out a laugh, skipping down the stairs yourself and returning in your place beside Jungkook. Instinctively, he wraps his arm around your shoulder while he leads you towards his car. 

“Okay. Everyone has been waiting for today so we can officially celebrate the end of the year. Yoongi and Jin’s apartment at 8 tonight, alright?” Jungkook speaks as he pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Is Namjoon gonna be there?” You ask, picking at your finger nails. Jungkook tilts his head towards you, “Of course.” 

You crinkle your nose jokingly, knowing that Jungkook didn’t like the fact that you and Namjoon teased each other quite a bit. Truthfully it made Jungkook feel jealous, as far as he was concerned you were his best friend and Namjoon had a way of sliding his comments into conversation so effortlessly that had you both laughing and hitting his shoulder. 

Jungkook pulls into your apartment complex a few moments later. You lean over the center console and wrap your arms around his shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight.” 

As you turn to get out, Jungkook grabs your wrist, “We’re going to get wasted tonight, by the way.” 

“Mm,” you nod, humor evident on your face, “can’t wait, Kookie.” 

~*~*~

You already hear music playing lightly through the door of Yoongi and Seokjin’s apartment. You don’t have the chance to knock because Hoseok swings open the door, “Get in here, girl.” 

Hoseok grabs your wrist and pulls you in, your hands gripping the bottle of tequila tighter. 

Suddenly you felt over dressed, spotting your group of friends gathered in the living room as Seokjin and Taehyung yell about some fighting game on the television. Hoseok takes the bottle of tequila from your hands and grabs three shot glasses. 

“Jungkook! (Y/N) is here!” Hoseok calls out to the living room, causing Jungkook to whip his head around. He hops over the couch and immediately reaches for one of the shot glasses. 

“Ah, to possibly making or breaking our future careers!” Jungkook doesn’t wait to tap his shot glass on yours, downing the shot in seconds and reaching to pour another. 

Okay, clearly you had some catching up to do. You could smell the remnants of beers on Jungkook’s breath, and you mentally cursed yourself for running a little late.  You follow his lead, pouring yourself a couple more shots and downing them while Jungkook watches you with shiny eyes. 

Hoseok seems to sense your discomfort of sobriety, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a beer of your own. You silently thank him and pop it open on the edge of the counter, chugging it down. 

Jungkook leads you to the living room and the two of you sit in the corner of the sectional. Already you could feel the heat of the alcohol coursing through your veins, and for once in your life you were grateful for being a lightweight. 

“Ah,” Namjoon spots you, “who invited you?” 

“Awh, don’t be so sad, Joonie. I know you’re secretly really happy I’m here.” You grin, seeing humor alight in Namjoon’s eyes as he turns his attention back to the screen. 

Jungkook notices the exchange between you and Namjoon and can’t help but burn holes into the side of your head. Not that he could do anything about it though, it’s not like he could stop you if you and Namjoon had decided dating or something. Though he cringes at the thought. 

The only thing that steadies his mind the the feeling of your head hitting his shoulder while you giggle at Jimin beating Seokjin at the game and cheering in victory. 

Jungkook relaxes against you, his hand picking up a piece of hair at the back of your head and twirling it softly between his fingers. It takes every bone in his body to prevent him from leaning down and pulling you in for a kiss but he just couldn’t. Even if you wore such a short dress and pranced around in front of him more times than he’d like to admit, or when he can’t help but stare when you bend down to grab something only for Jimin nudge him out of his trance. 

You didn’t like him like that, it just wouldn’t work out. 

The night is going by as every night that you found yourself in one of the boys’ apartments with liquor running through your system. Jungkook and you have been fed drinks constantly and you could officially say that you were drunk, but that was the whole point of this night anyway. 

Yoongi and Hoseok were in the middle of doing awful karaoke, singing some song from a movie that you had never heard of. 

You were practically on top of Jungkook’s lap at this point, the two of you giggling as Hoseok’s voice cracks on a particularly high note. 

“Oh come on you’re better than that Hobi!” You shout over the music and laughter, your eyes glossed over. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist and pull you close, your hand flying to his chest and your fingers dancing across his hands. 

“Shut up!” Hoseok shouts back, his voice echoing from the reverb of the mic. Yoongi laughs in the middle of his verse and you realize that these guys truly made you happy, you couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends. 

Especially the man beneath you, who’s strong arms made you feel safe from the beginning of your friendship onward. He always made sure to protect you, but was also well aware that you didn’t need the protection. You allowed him to protect you because you loved the way he could send a boy away from you with a simple look and his arm snaking around your waist. 

You were suddenly hyper aware of how close you were to him, but you didn’t care. You like how he smells too much to stop cuddling him. 

In fact, the feeling of his abs tensing beneath your body caused heat to wrack your lower half. You see him shirtless often, so you didn’t have a problem imagining what he would look like holding himself above you. You tried to push the feeling down, but the alcohol was winning this fight. You needed to have him and you needed to have him now.

“Jungkook?��� You ask him quietly, turning his head towards yours. 

“Yes?” He responds, his forehead shining from the heat of your body on his but he didn’t want to push you away. 

“Do you want to come to another room with me?” 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “Uh, sure?” 

You stand abruptly, but everyone else seemed too enthralled in the performance in front of them to notice. You quickly tug Jungkook with you, a giggle leaving your lips when you notice how he struggles to keep up with you. 

You open the first door you see, spotting a keyboard and guitar in the corner of the room. Jungkook immediately sits on the bed, laying back and groaning. The way his shirt rode up his abdomen ever so slightly and revealed the ‘v’ dipping into his jeans caused you to swallow. 

“So what’s up? Get a little overwhelmed?” Jungkook asks, rubbing his eyes then keeping his gaze trained on the ceiling. 

Now that you had him in the room you were unsure of how to handle the situation. So, you decided to let your instincts guide you. 

You shakily press a step forward, then another, until your knees bump against Jungkook’s. He tears his gaze away from the ceiling and eyes you curiously, causing your face to go red. He smiles comfortingly, “What’s on your mind?” 

Without responding, you climb onto his lap and rest a knee on either side of his thighs. Immediately Jungkook tenses at the movement and sits up, your hands landing on his shoulders. This is different from your usual drunk touchy habits, your heat was a mere 3 layers from his, and the thought alone causes his mouth to water. 

“What are you-” 

Jungkook doesn’t get the chance to finish his question because you slam your lips on his. 

Jungkook freezes entirely, every fiber of his being telling him to kiss you back but the shock of the situation causes him to shrivel in a puddle of confidence-lacking ooze. He had wanted to kiss you for so long - years at this point - and now that you were suddenly kissing him he had no clue what to do. 

Instead of pulling away and accepting defeat, you poke your tongue between your lips and swipe it across Jungkook’s bottom lip and instantly he opens his mouth. 

You smile in victory, your tongue entering his mouth and exploring. The taste of tequila and lemonade laced his tongue, and in a surprising turn of events Jungkook wraps his lips around your tongue and sucks softly. 

He pulls away, meeting your eyes, “How far do you want this to go, (Y/N)?” 

“Need you,” you whine, your fingers wracking over his clothed torso, “need all of you.” 

“Fuck.” Jungkook groans, leading your hands beneath his shirt and allowing you to feel his hot tanned skin directly. He falls back onto the bed while you push his shirt over his head and toss it behind you, hearing the twang of a guitar string. You glance back to make sure the guitar is okay before hearing Jungkook giggle softly. 

He leans his hand up, reveling in the feeling of your soft skin against his, and pushes your hair behind your ear, “You’re so pretty.” 

You press your lips against his again, “Tell me I’m pretty when I’m covered in your cum.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen and you can nearly see the switch in his eyes from Kookie to Jungkook. His fingers fumble with his belt and he quick to unbuckle it, tapping your hip to tell you to lift your body so he can slide his pants down. 

His semi doesn’t take long to harden completely once he feels your hot breath through the thin fabric of his briefs. You bite your lip, looking up at him as you loop your fingers through the hem. 

“No, baby. You’re wearing far too much clothing right now.” Jungkook says, his thumb running over his swollen lips. 

You raise an eyebrow, standing up staring down at Jungkook’s mostly naked body. You smile, your cheeks flushing while you slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders. Jungkook watches your every move, his eyes following your hands while you slide the black material down your body and step out of it. 

Your underwear is by no means flashy, you didn’t expect anyone to see them tonight and you’re about to apologize to Jungkook for the plain pink matching bra and panties but his eyes tell you that you do need to. 

“Off.” He demands, gesturing his hand to you. He wasn’t one for strip teases but he could watch you undress every night and never get tired of it. You reach behind you, unclasping each clasp slowly until the band of your bra falls loose. You’re quick to catch the cups before the slip off, walking closer to him. 

You allow the bra to fall in has lap, your nipples hard with anticipation. This was the first time that Jungkook has seen you so exposed, and he was enjoying the sight. He leans forward and clasps his teeth around one of your nipples and you let out a moan at the feeling. 

You liked this side of him, dominance radiating from him and causing you to drip. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby.” He groans, and in seconds your tossed onto the bed beside him. His lips attack your neck, sucking and biting in places you didn’t know could be so pleasurable. Or maybe it was just that fact that Jungkook was the one doing it. Either way, you writhed beneath his lips as he trailed kisses down your body. Reaching your hips, he presses a kiss to each of your hip bones. Looking up at you hesitantly, you see him loop his fingers around each side of your panties. 

“Well what are you waiting for?” You tease, biting your bottom lip. 

Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, “Just making sure I’m not dreaming.” 

With that, he drags your panties down your legs almost painfully slow. His eyes don’t leave yours, and you wonder if he’s second guessing his decision. He must have noticed the doubt in your eyes, so he presses a kiss softly just above your mound, right on your pelvic bone. 

You relax instantly, his eyes large and filled with lust when he finally tears them away from yours. Jungkook holds both of your ankles in one hand as he finally slides off your panties the rest of the way. You exhale a shaky breath, Jungkook’s position just in front of the bottom of your thighs caused your mind to wander. There were so many ways you wanted him to take you, and your feet on either side of his head was the first way. 

Jungkook lets go of your ankles and you keep your legs raised, slowly opening your thighs where Jungkook finally turns his gaze. 

Your stomach flutters while Jungkook lays on his stomach in front of you, and swipes his ring finger up your slit. Instantly, a loud moan falls from your lips and Jungkook chuckles confidently. 

“Who knew you’d be so wet for your best friend, huh?” He doesn’t allow you to respond, as his tongue darts out of his mouth and swipes a long stripe from the bottom of your heat to your clit. 

You lurch forward, your hands lacing through his hair. 

“Oh god, that feels so good.” You moan, arching your back as Jungkook begins to press two fingers into your cunt. He wasn’t hiding how much he was enjoying this, either, because he moans loudly against your cunt as you tug at the roots of his hair. 

You watch him carefully, biting your bottom lip and your face contorted in pleasure. Jungkook’s eyes were closed, all his energy going into pleasing you. 

He begins to rut his hips against the duvet, whining against you for some sort of release but he doesn’t stop until your coming undone beneath him. “Oh fuck me,” you moan, “Jungkook!” 

You feel his smile against you as you ride out your high against his tongue, your hand gripping his hair harshly. 

“Wow,” he pulls away, his thumb collecting the moisture of your release around his lips and then slipping it into his mouth, “you taste even better than I imagined.” 

Your mouth falls agape, “You imagined what I taste like?” 

“Oh baby,” Jungkook stands for a moment, slipping his boxers down his muscular thighs, “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.” 

Your eyes drop to the apex of his thighs, his cock springing upward and hitting his abdomen. He’s huge, you thought, he’s going to tear me in half. 

And you couldn’t wait. 

You gesture for him to get back on the bed, and in seconds your spreading your thighs. Jungkook strokes his cock for a moment, his eyes washing over your body and he silently pleasures himself at the sight of you. You could come just from watching him, but you were so enthralled with the way his large hands stroked himself that you forgot what you were doing in the first place. It’s not until he’s about to thrust inside of you do you snap back, “Condom?” 

“Ah,” Jungkook blushes, “sorry, one second.” 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. The tiny silver foil was a welcoming sight, and you grin. 

Jungkook spots your salacious smile and can’t help but mirror it, walking over to the side of the bed. He stands tall above you, and he hands you the foil packet. 

“Put it on me.” 

You don’t hesitate, your teeth tearing open the condom and placing the bubble at the top in your mouth. Jungkook hisses when your hand grips the base of his cock and strokes him a few times before you lower your mouth onto him, rolling the condom down his shaft with your tongue running underneath. 

As you reach the base of his cock, you hold yourself there. Jungkook feels your throat contract around him and thrusts in softly, “If you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna need to stop sucking me off.” 

You fall back easily, spreading your legs once again and reaching your fingers down to rub your clit in a few circles. 

Jungkook places himself between your thighs again, and presses his cock into your heat slowly. 

You watch the way his thumb shakes as he falls in, his body crashing above you as he catches himself. He can’t help but capture your lips in his as he finally feels you pulse around him like he wanted you to for so fucking long. 

Jungkook has never had so much trouble trying not to cum, but you just felt so good. Your warmth was enticing, and kissing you was distracting him enough not to release. 

“Move, please.” You whisper against his lips, grinding your hips against his. 

Jungkook pulls away until just the tip of his cock is inside, then he slams back in. Still, his lips stay steady on yours and you cry out his name while he thrusts into relentlessly. 

“You take me so well, baby,” Jungkook’s voice was throaty and thick, much different than what you were used to, “squeeze around me so good.” 

He doesn’t leave your lips, breathing heavily through his nose as he continues to thrust harshly. You reach up and drag his bottom lip through your teeth, trying to quiet your moans as you suddenly remember the 6 other people in the apartment. 

Then again, maybe you didn’t care if they heard you. Maybe you liked the thought of the boys hearing Jungkook make you scream. 

So, with Jungkook thrusting particularly harshly, you let out a scream of his name and toss your head back, electricity sparking in your tummy. He reaches deep and slows his thrusts once he feels that your close, long strokes replacing them. 

The fact that Jungkook lay so close to you as he thrusts, the scent of him overwhelming in your nostrils, played a huge factor in pushing you closer and closer to the edge. As you finally feel the twist building in your stomach uncoil in flashing heat, your jaw drops open, “I’m coming!” 

“That’s good,” Jungkook kisses your jaw, “you’re doing so well.” 

He stops his movements and you moan,falling back and trying to catch your breath. 

You open your eyes and meet Jungkook’s, grinning and reaching up to move his fringe away from his forehead, “Did you cum?” 

He shakes his head, “You said you wanted to be covered in my cum, right?” 

You nod hastily, and Jungkook slowly pulls out of you. You groan at the emptiness, but quickly recover when you see Jungkook slip the condom off of his member. 

Again, he stands proudly above you, “What? You think I’m gonna do this myself?” 

You giggle, reaching forward and beginning to stroke him. You’re much faster this time, and Jungkook is thrusting his hips in your hand. He’s gripping your wrist but following the movement of your hand with his eyes screwed shut and his head tossed back. 

Then you hear him suck in an air of breath and you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue and feeling the saltiness of his release paint your tongue. He looks down quickly, as if not wanting to miss the way his cum rests on your tongue. He grips your jaw in his hand, “Swallow.” 

You eye him mischievously, sliding your tongue in your mouth and swallowing, then opening again to show him. 

“Good girl.” He whispers, his eyes still black with lust. 

He places another kiss to your lips, and you pull him down onto the bed with you. 

You both lay, catching your breath and watching each other. Jungkook’s grin is just as wide as ever, and you realize exactly what you had just done. 

You just hooked up with your best friend. Your first friend on campus, the person who’s there for you whenever you’re going through anything. You may have just completely ruined your friendship with him because you let alcohol take over your thoughts. 

Well, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself. It definitely wasn’t the fact that you had been suppressing your attraction to him for years. Nope. 

Definitely wasn’t that.