#and it's not like Annie wears lipstick that often

[ladylunavoodoo13]

Adeline Graves

˚.˖𓍢ִ໋🔪͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆💌 Addie ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔪͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆💌

ALIASES:

• Addie

• Annie (Father)

• Accident (Mother)

RELATIVES:

• Grandfather[1]

• Grandmother[2]

• Andrew Graves (Younger Brother/Possible romantic interest)

• Ashley Graves (Younger Sister/Possible romantic interest)

• Renee Graves (Mother) (Deceased)

• Mr. Graves (Father) (Deceased)

OTHER: James (Ex Boyfriend)

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BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

STATUS: Alive

AGE: 12-16 ("Andy and Leyley" flashbacks); 24 (Current)

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PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

SPECIES: Human

GENDER: Female

EYE COLOR: Dark Grey

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GENERAL INFORMATION

CRIME(S):

• Manslaughter

• Attempted Murder

• Burglary

• Breaking & Entering

• Mutilation of a Corpse

• Incest (determinant)

• Theft

• Trespassing

• Satanic Ritual Abuse

• Grand Theft Auto

• First-degree murder

• Second-degree murder

• Assault

• Cannibalism

• Coercion

• Illegal Possession of a Firearm

• Fraud

• Conspiracy to Murder

EQUIPMENT:

• $666.66/$333.33 (determinant)

• Cleaver

• Lighter

• Cigarettes

• Firearm (Revolver)

• Watering Can

• Frying Pan

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”

“Your big sis has got it all handled…”

Adeline “Addie” Graves is one of the three titular main protagonists of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. She shares this role with her brother, Andrew Graves, and her sister, Ashley Graves.

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Profile

Adeline

Adeline is a young, pale-skinned and thin woman with dark grey eyes and black, ribcage length hair. Despite being older, she’s actually more on the petite side and a lot shorter (she measures a whopping 4 feet and 8 inches) in comparison to Ashley; though this is due to her diet. She also wears black lipstick.

In contrast to her siblings, she wears white and black clothing instead of black and grey. She wears a white shirt which reveals her cleavage and the straps for her black brassiere, which have lace on them. She wears a silk black skirt and black mary janes, which are accompanied by black thigh highs.

(Author’s Note: Art will come soon)

Addie

As a child, Adeline or Addie, had longer hair that was accompanied by two white bows for her hair, one for each pigtail.

She wore a white sweater paired with a long, striped black and violet skirt. She often had bandaids on her fingertips and she wore black brothel creepers like her sister.

In-Game Sprite

Much like the other characters, her in-game sprite is a stoic grayscale pixel-art version of her.

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PERSONALITY

Adeline is a soft-spoken and gentle young woman. She’s quiet and observant, as well as friendly and charming even if she’s shy at first. Ever since she was a kid, she’s been inquisitive and extremely analytical. Some of the most guarded people feel compelled to open up to her, not realizing they could be getting lured into a false sense of security.

Unlike Ashley who’s always been apathetic and Andrew who becomes apathetic depending on the route you take, Adeline can turn her empathy on and off depending. She feels remorse over her crimes if she feels like they went too far or were unnecessary (Ex: Nina’s death), but won’t regret anything if she deems it is protecting her younger siblings or providing for them (Ex: Eating their neighbor). That can be both unsettling but also a weakness to manipulate. If someone can convince her it’s protecting Ashley and/or Andrew, she could commit any crime.

Throughout the story, Adeline will display an unhealthy obsession towards her siblings. Usually it is hidden behind a mask but will have her slip-ups that show her true nature. She got frustrated when Ashley berated and hounded away her ex boyfriend and when Andrew was passive aggressive with him, but eventually stopped dating since she viewed it as them just being worried and attached. Which she secretly adores- Her unhealthy obsession with them is a weakness, to the point that she’d do anything to keep them by her side (though it’s more of a behind-the-scenes way). She has no qualms killing or stealing for them and will indulge in either of their desires. Including Andrew’s romantic and sexual ones. Which she justifies as ‘big sisters teach their siblings everything, right?’ even though Andrew will do more teaching since she’s a virgin-

Sometimes she keeps Ashley and Andrew in check but with the right words, they can get her to cave into their demands. Though if she does something she didn’t like, she’ll typically disassociate and start smoking or drinking. As their sole caretaker, both of them are reliant on her. She taught them everything they know. Which includes how to properly get rid of bloodstains (if anyone reading this gets the reference, i adore you). Though, their big sister is NOT infallible and has her moments where she relies on them like a lost puppy.

Unlike both her siblings, she tends to be a bit more delusional and warped which is something she developed to cope with the fact that she’s not completely normal. Scaring off Andrew’s girlfriends? Well, she didn’t like how her values were! Ashley had a point and after all, it’s her job to get rid of any possible threats! Unaliving a girl who made a mean comment on Ashley’s hair behind her back? Who knows what else that girl could have done to poor Ashley! Is she overbearing? No! It’s her job! Is it normal she gets panic attacks over them? Yeah, every older sibling has crippling anxiety, right?

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Background

Adeline is the first child and oldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Graves. Since their parents had an easy time raising her, they decided to have Andrew- who was easy so they decided to have Ashley. All the parenting fell on Adeline since well… their parents are canonically… very sexually active. In this Mr. and Mrs. Graves are a bit older since Adeline was born when Mrs. Graces was fifteen. Instead of being 37, she’s 39. Since Ashley did not have a proper place at the dining table when they would eat together, Adeline would sit her in the middle between her and Andrew, try giving up her seat for her, or have Ashley sit in her lap. She felt resentment towards her parents but despite that, she adored her siblings. They were all she had after all, and she’s always been determined to keep them close to her at all costs.

After all, big sisters always watch their siblings. Constantly. It’s her job.

The three of them were inseparable for the most part. Though, Adeline had moments where she was by herself and her anxiety had her figure out how to track Andrew and Ashley. Unlike Andrew who’s a repressed liar, Adeline was honest and upfront about it. She doesn’t fake bad dreams for cuddles- But she has such a way with words, it’s hard to get mad at her or even realize she’s just sugarcoating the fact that she stalked them constantly. Andrew and Ashley would occasionally sneak out of school just to make sure she wasn’t getting close to any boys or girls.

Izzy was known to be very sociable and able to mask her obsession, having birthday parties and trying her best to help Ashley get friends. She eventually stopped throwing birthday parties to help Ashley feel better, saying that she already got gifts and all she wanted was to hang out with her siblings for her birthday.

Due to being born early, Adeline gets sick very, very, very easily. This allows them to take care of her and need her to rely on them. It wasn’t always Adeline taking care of them and ever since she was a kid, she’s shown to get flustered and even give kisses to thank them.

Her perception of romance is a little… skewed. She walked in on her parents on more than one occasion, watched sex scenes on shows and didn’t necessarily read healthy romance novels… To her, romance and familial meant the same treatment since family and lovers are on equal levels of love in her eyes. With no one to teach or guide her, plus a history of creepy teachers who suddenly went away cough Ashley and Andrew killed them cough, she confused the two.

When Ashley felt betrayed when Nina confessed to her that she had a crush on Andrew and persuaded Andrew to help her 'teach Nina a lesson’, she couldn’t do it without Adeline’s help. This lesson involved trapping the young girl in a dusty storage box in an abandoned warehouse, only for the siblings to leave her trapped overnight. The next day, Ashley was surprised but not horrified by Nina dying and helps Andrew hide her body in the nearby forest. Adeline made sure to scrub and clean everything as well as bury the body in a better place. Adeline was horrified by having to clean up but immediately shooed them away from the scene, desperate to fix this.

Now why did she know how to do that? She always read as a kid. There were several books plus a library nearby. And no adult supervision. That led into her getting into being a crime fanatic and thus, picking up a couple skills.

Adeline was very vocal about her disdain for their parents’ favoritism and would outright ignore their praises, becoming vey detached to them. She frequented staying at home with Andrew and Ashley, as well as even considered working with the police to make sure she could cover up for them in case their criminal incident became more than oopsies. Instead of going in person for college, she decided to do the majority of it online to make sure she could be available when they needed them. She also worked at a diner in order to save up for gifts for them which is where she met her boyfriend, now ex, James.

She stopped dating James due to an argument over how she was overtly involved in her siblings’ lives. He mentioned how he disliked that dating her meant he basically dated her siblings too, and how he’d never get their approval. She ended up leaving him due to this, getting upset over how he just didn’t understand her responsibilities to them.

During her breakup, she was upset and would cuddle Ashley and Andrew, occasionally cry into their bed over how she wished James would just learn to understand. Prior to the events of the game, Andrew and Ashley had to be quarantined alongside their whole apartment building due to a 'parasite infestation' in their water supply. Ashley would then spend the next three months in quarantine with Andrew and starts to starve once they run out of food and their building's wardens stop supplying them with food. She would also attempt to call their mother numerous times, to no avail. Adeline, however, would leave snarly voice messages to their parents and even berate them for neglecting Ashley and Andrew, would declare that they were shitty parents for not even trying to toss up food to them.

Her little potted garden helped Ashley and Andrew starve a little less, but couldn’t do much with the lack of water.

Whenever Andrew and Ashley got physical with each other or had lengthy talks about suicide, Adeline would automatically go into panic mode and try to settle them both down.

Mrs. Graves took note of the codependency they all had on each other but brushed it off as them getting along and Adeline not being ready to leave the nest yet.

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Author’s Note: More art for Adeline will come up when I get inspo + free time. This was inspired by a post I liked, I can’t remember whose, about headcanons for a older sibling oc for TCoAaL (hence the gardening). I already had that idea before I saw the post though so hopefully that isn’t bothering them if they ever see this!

Anyways, here’s a poll!

UHM MORE LORE FOR HER WILL COME! I’ll edit more later but its currently 2:56am and I’m exhausted. I did the art, it lwk sucks.

[distortedclouds]

I think Annie would be the type to kiss Armin's cheek with bright lipstick on if she's ever jealous of someone he's been associating with often recently

Just a quick, out of nowhere, peck so he doesn't even know he has an as-clear-as-day kiss mark until one of his very good friends decides to point it out

[sleepysnk]

i am in pain, that is all. listen to the song while reading.

Ghost of You

Pairings: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, alcohol usage

Here I am waking up

Still can't sleep on your side

Reiner's honey eyes opened, his head pounding as he was suffering another hangover. He wasn't even sure what time it was, it had to be past 10 A.M. he was certain of that. 

Sighing, he sat up feeling his head spin for a moment; his mouth felt dry and his head pounded from the splitting headache that pulsed around his skull. Reiner noticed the many beer cans that littered the ground, the stench of alcohol filling his nose making it scrunch.

He reached for his phone, the bright light making his skull ache even more than it did before. A few notifications from Bertholdt and Annie were visible on the screen, not like Reiner cared, he wanted a text from the person he missed most.

(Y/N).

There's your coffee cup

The lipstick stain fades with time

Reiner couldn't remember the last time she was in his apartment. It had to be weeks even months ago, the last time she was there was when they broke up. He had totally forgotten when from all of the alcohol he consumed. 

What hurt the most was that Reiner still had some of her things, including her clothes, a few pairs of underwear, makeup, hell, even some personal items. All those things reminded him of her, but even then, he couldn't get the energy to throw them away.

If I can dream long enough 

You'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine

(Y/N) and Reiner had broken up one month ago. Their relationship had unfortunately turned sour, the two argued so many times that even she couldn't count how often it happened throughout the day. It was unfortunate seeing what happened, Reiner didn't think she'd end it, but she did. 

She packed up her things and told him it was over after arguing during the night. 

Reiner was angry at the time, but after a while he realized what he had done. He broke the person he loved the most, pushed her to her limit, and caused her to walk out of his life. Forever.

Reiner really wished he could say he was fine, he lied to his friends that he was.. but inside he wasn't. He knew he wasn't okay, but admitting it to others was something he didn't want to do.

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Even then, Reiner can still replay memories of him and (Y/N) dancing in their apartment together at odd hours of the night. The memory always brought a smile to his face, she was so clumsy when they first tried, but Reiner helped her learn. 

Reiner would put on random songs and twirl her around the living room when the moon would shine during the night. She was so beautiful then, Reiner was certain she was his soulmate. 

He always recalled the way he would feel during those moments, the way his heart would swell whenever she smiled or giggled at the way he would dance; or the way his fingers would slightly tickle her waist whenever he would dance with her. Reiner would do anything to relive all of it.

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

After the breakup, Reiner turned to unhealthy ways of coping. 

He turned to alcohol, sometimes he'd pass out at the bar and Bertholdt would have to come and take him home. Other times he would get so drunk he could barely stand, all of it was to forget everything. Even if it didn't last very long. 

He still loved (Y/N) and he hates that he could never change what happened. Reiner knew deep down that the truth was he would never be able to undo what happened, she would never love him again. That's what made him drink even more, he wanted to forget the truth.

Cleaning up today

Found that old Zepplin shirt

You wore when you ran away

And no one could feel your hurt

Her old shirt was still on the floor where she left it before she left him. 

He could recall so many memories within her clothes, whether it be a skirt she wore to a date, or a shirt she wore and he ended up taking off; all of it brought back memories for the blonde. 

Reiner was the only one who understood (Y/N), she was the only one who understood him. 

It was almost like they were destined to meet each other, that's what Reiner would say anyway. He believed that he finally had his soulmate, but why was she taken away from him? Why?

We're too young, too dumb

To know things like love

But I know better now

He remembers when they first met.

Reiner met her when he was a senior in high school, she was a new student and he ended up bumping into her on the first day. Ever since that day, he was there to show her around and he made her feel like someone; like she wasn't just a student, but a person who belonged. 

They were so young then, many people found it hard to believe that they were high school sweethearts. 

They were together for three years.

Reiner always asked the question, maybe things went bad because they were so young? They were just 17 when they got together, teens, kids, they weren't mature or old enough; they were just teens in love. 

Maybe Reiner was too dumb to think that his relationship with (Y/N) would last, maybe there were signs at the beginning that he just couldn't see. 

He was just a teenager then.. who was he to know this would all happen?

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house

With the ghost of you

Reiner still sees her when he's drunk or hungover, he sees her walking into the room they once shared with breakfast in her hands, ready to give him a good morning kiss. 

At night he sees her wearing that pretty sundress, the one she always wore whenever she wanted to dance with him. He still remembers the patterns on it and the way the dress would show the skin of her thighs whenever he twirled her. 

He always had a smile on his face whenever he'd see her. His heart would swell the way it did before.

Then once he blinked.. she would disappear.

Reiner would break down after that, he would sit on the couch for hours with tears going down his cheeks. Whispering small apologies, and feeling his chest tightening whenever he remembered all the horrible things that had happened. 

He just wanted to reach out and hold her again, he yearned to feel her skin against his one more time; to tell her that he loves her still and he'd do anything to have her be his again. 

"I'm so sorry (Y/N).."

Those words would constantly be repeated until Reiner would pass out on the couch or in his bed. 

And I chase it down

With a shot of truth

That my feet don't dance

Like they did with you

Reiner stood up, his mind cloudy and his body aching for more sleep. He headed over to the medicine cabinet and popped a few painkillers. 

He wiped a few tears that escaped down his cheeks, his chest tightening again.

"Please.. come back to me (Y/N).." he sobbed.

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES: Flashback: Mikasa:age 9, December 25thCurrent time: Sunday December 27th- Wednesday December 30th

CHAPTER ONE: the holidays linger like bad perfume

Mikasa had been nine years old.

It was snowy to the point that they could not see. A visit to her cousin’s as his days were becoming numbered. He wished to see them one more time before he died. One last Christmas together. Her mother and father couldn’t deny Kenny that.

She didn’t remember much of what happened.

The screams.

The bright lights.

The crunch of the metal.

Her father was gone instantly, her mother barely alive. She was reaching towards Mikasa, the sleeve of her mother’s shirt scrunched up so Mikasa could see her mother’s tattoo.

Bright lights were coming again.

She wanted to run but she couldn’t get free.

Her seatbelt was stuck.

“Mikasa, run!” She heard her mother scream.

Click.

She was free. She ran as fast as her legs to take her.

BAM!

A large truck hit the car a second time.

It wasn’t long until the police showed up.

The hospital was sterile, cold.

A piece of glass had embedded into her cheek. So the doctor used tweezers to remove it. He had already wrapped her arm up in a cast.

“There we go. Now you might have a scar from it but you’ll be okay. Don’t pick at the scab on your face. You’re very lucky, Miss Ackerman,” Grisha Jaeger said as he ruffled her hair. She simply looked up with him with tears in her eyes. She hadn’t stopped crying since she got here.

“I don’t care what your protocol is. I got a phone call saying my cousin is here. I’ve already talked to both the sheriff and child services. I’m her next of kin and I’m taking her!” The curtain was thrown back to reveal a very angry Levi Ackerman. “Oh, sorry Doctor Jaeger. Maybe you can tell your nurses that I am her cousin. I forgot my wallet...Kenny got the call.”

Grisha looked at the blonde nurse standing next to Levi and nodded.

“Well just because he has the same last name doesn’t mean they’re related,” the woman retorted.

“Are you fucking stupid? This is a small town, lady. How many Ackermans do you think we have running around here? Look, her father was my mother’s brother as I’ve told you twenty times now!”

Mikasa jumped down from the hospital bed and made her way over to Levi. She grabbed on his sleeve and pulled. When he looked down at her, his expression softened.

“Can we go home?” She asked as she started to cry.

Levi simply scooped Mikasa up and pushed past the nurse.

“Bill me. Make sure you put Captain Levi Ackerman on it. I don’t want that mister shit on there. I served for too many years for that.”

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Levi had been the one to teach her how to play the piano. He kept a grand baby piano in the sunroom. Kenny had bought it saying it made the place look classy. Mikasa couldn’t disagree.

It was in a desperate need of tuning. Every note seemed to be off. She wondered if Levi even played anymore.

“You know if you told me you were coming, I would have had it tuned,” Levi said as he leaned in the doorway.

“I have my keyboard if I need it. I guess since I found out mom used to play this piano, every time I come home, I want to play it. I didn’t tell you I was coming home because I didn’t know if I was. Besides, I didn’t want you to tell anyone.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Just go punch him in the jaw and move on.”

“You didn’t hear the things he said! It’s not that simple this time. It’s not just us getting mad at one another. He said he always hated me. He sat there and tore me down, Levi. I was getting ready to propose and he said I was just a people pleaser. That he only dated me because he wanted to know what it would be like to fu...where are you going?”

“Think I’ll go pay Eren a little visit.”

Mikasa exited the sun room and went to the living room. A very angry Levi was about to exit the h ouse.

“Levi, no. Let it go. Armin already punched him when he said it. Then I yelled at Armin I didn’t need him to defend me and then that was it.”

“And now she makes shit coffee!” Ymir called from the kitchen. Mikasa wasn’t sure when the other girl had woken up.

“She hates my coffee,” Mikasa replied simply as she looked down at the floor. This had been only the second time she had talked to what happened. The first had been hours after it had happened, in Mikasa’s bedroom  with her bandmates and best friends.

Ymir came into the living room with a mug full of coffee. “You need to add more coffee to it before you brew it. Historia also punched him in the face if that makes you feel better, Captain. I offered to take out his kneecaps but Mika here said no.” Ymir wrapped an arm around Mikasa’s s houlders.

“I would have bailed you out.”

“See! I told you!” Ymir squeezed Mikasa’s shoulders.

Mikasa wasn’t sure why that had made her cry or even when the tears in her eyes had started to build up. The anger on Levi’s face only grew.

Mikasa had been there when Levi had night terrors caused from his PTSD. He had been a soldier, a Captain even. Then a wrong explosion had made him lose his closest friends, not to mention the burns he had sustained on his torso. Mikasa would go into his room as a small child when she would hear the screaming and wake him up, only to ask what was wrong. It brought Levi back every time. With therapy, they slowly started to get better. That wasn’t the only change that helped him. His high school friends started to show up more often after Mikasa had come into his life.

One of those people was Hange Zoe, Levi’s partner. Mikasa adored them.

“When is Hange coming?” Mikasa asked to change the subject.

“They got stuck at Moblit’s house. Storms are real bad up north. Should be here before New Year’s though. Are you sticking around that long?”

Mikasa nodded.

“I’ll be here too. Because you know...no family. Orphaned. Just like you two. Well expect you two have each other.”

Levi just rolled his eyes as he walked away. “I’m going to salt the driveway before the storms hit. Ymir, don’t put your feet on my coffee table!”

Ymir removed her arm from around Mikasa and made her way back towards the kitchen. “Check your email. Historia sent out another bit of music. It looks like it’ll be keyboard heavy. Needs lyrics. Maybe you can take your angst and turn into something.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. It wasn’t a bad idea actually. She had tried last night but she had failed.

Historia’s music always brought the best of her lyrics out.

“I’ll give it a listen.”

----------------------------------------------

Three days.

Mikasa wrote lyrics in the sun room with her keyboard for three days. Ymir regularly brought her food and too strong coffee. Levi would throw bottles of water at her which she would catch with one hand.

"Now I'm in..hell...seeing you pass...no. That sounds stupid," Mikasa muttered to herself as she marked out the lyrics in her notebook.

She returned to playing the music again.

It was three days of that.

By the end of it, Levi had grown numb to the sound of Mikasa's piano playing the same song over and over.

At least it wasn't that song she had written when her and Eren had broken up. He wasn't sure with what he knew now that he could listen to that song the same way.

“Go shower. You smell.” He nudged her with his foot. She had fallen asleep on the floor in the sunroom.

“It’s done,” she yawned as she stretched.

“Good. Go shower. Hange will be here in an hour.”

Mikasa simply nodded.

After a shower and a change of clothes, Mikasa came downstairs and into the kitchen to see Ymir, Levi, Hange, and someone she didn’t expect to see at all.

“Armin?” Her voice cracked.

She didn’t know how to feel.

“Mikasa! I’m sorry. I didn’t know you and Armin were still not speaking or what had happened. I didn’t want him spending Christmas alone and you know his grandfather worked with me at the university. Brilliant History professor. Then when he passed, I offered to take Armin with me to visit my friend Molbit,” Hange said they stood up.

“It’s okay, Hange,” Mikasa replied as she sat down at the table across from Armin.

“She shouldn’t be mad at Armin anyway. He was just trying to help,” Ymir muttered before taking a drink of coffee. “What? Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Maybe we leave these two alone for a minute,” Hange suggested.

Mikasa looked at Levi who simply raised an eyebrow.

Mikasa nodded.

Hange and Levi left the table.

“I’ll be right in the hallway, listening the whole time,” Ymir said before strolling away from the table with her coffee.

An awkward silence washed over the two of them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call when your grandpa….” Mikasa started but Armin just waved his hand.

“It’s okay. I needed to be alone then. Just need to process everything. I heard you won the battle of the bands. Congratulations.”

“Annie?”

“Annie told me, yeah. She said she didn’t think you’d care if she told me. Just not to tell Eren. I haven’t talked to him since that day. Have you?”

Mikasa shook her head.

“He deleted all his social media too. Last I heard he was reconnecting with Zeke. Sorry, I shouldn’t bring this up,” Armin remarked before looking down.

“It’s okay, Armin. Really. I know Ymir is right. I don’t care that you and Annie are together….”

“Well, we’re not. I don’t know if she even feels that way about me anymore.”

“The hickey on her neck on her snapchat story says different.”

Armin turned bright red and a laugh came from the hallway right outside the kitchen.

“Maybe it was someone else,” he muttered.

“The hickey you’re trying to hide with the hood of your jacket...and there’s lipstick on it. It’s the shade of lipstick always wear.  You should probably wash it,” she smiled.

“Ah, really? I thought I got it out. It’s stained then.” He pulled on the jacket trying to adjust where he could see the stain.

Mikasa laughed again. “I missed you, Armin.”

He stopped pulling at the jacket and returned her smile.

“I missed you too. I thought about messaging you but I thought if you saw me, it would remind you what happened. I just didn’t want to cause you anymore pain. We can just be M.A. now,” Armin said as he reached his hand out across the table.

E.M.A. was a stupid nickname that the three of them had come up with when they were kids. It stuck and followed them through high school since they were so inseparable.

“I’m okay with that,” she replied as she took his hand.

“Oh great, another orphaned brat is going to be at my house all the time again. I’m going to start charging you all rent. Ow! Hange, did you just swat me with a newspaper?”

“Technically, it’s the ads you got in the mail today.”

“Can you two save that for the bedroom? I’m trying to listen in on the conversation happening in the next room.”

Mikasa laughed.

Armin smiled at her.  “How have you been?”

“Busy. Wrote thirty six songs...well now thirty seven. I just finished one this morning. Historia is stuck at the Reiss house until New Year’s Eve.”

Armin nodded.

They all knew how Rod Reiss was when it came to what he called a united front. The family needed to show no weakness or the local gossip columns would have another field day. It was part of the reason that Historia used another name for all of their music.

“That’s great, I’m glad to hear it.”

Mikasa smiled again. She knew that he truly was happy for her.

“Now they’re just making small talk. This is boring,” Ymir’s voice rang out again.

“I’m sorry that our conversation isn’t entertaining,” Mikasa replied as she rolled her eyes.

“You should be,” Ymir said as she came into the kitchen and took the seat next to Mikasa. “So you and Annie, huh? Took you two longer to get together than….you know…” she waved her hand.

“I..uhh…” Armin started to turn red again.

Levi walked into the kitchen with Hange.

“Stop tormenting Armin, Ymir,” Levi sighed as he returned to his spot.

“What? Can I not point out the obvious? Those two are made for each other. If they ever have kids, they’ll be geniuses. And from the marks they left on one another, looks like they’ve had plenty of practice.”

Armin proceeded to turn another shade of red.

“Concealer helps,” Hange offered their advice to Armin. “Also ice cubes or put them places people don’t normally see.”

“Can we not talk about them having sex at my kitchen table? I like to live in a world where they’re all still twelve,” Levi sighed as he pinched his nose.

“Even after that time you walked in on Mikasa and he who shall not be named?” Ymir smirked.

“Ymir!” Mikasa exclaimed.

“What? I was there too.”

“Oh really? What about when I walked in on you an.....”

“So you get that driveway salted? Does it need more?” Ymir changed the subject.

“It’s fine,” Levi replied as he rolled his eyes.

“Hey, Ymir. Are you still any good at video games? I’m stuck on a level and I’m trying to get to gold in pvp,” Armin helped change the subject.

“You’re looking at someone who has the most achievements out of our friends. Of course, I am. Mikasa, is the console still upstairs?” Ymir asked.

Mikasa nodded.

“Great, after breakfast, I’ll get you where you need to be,” Ymir beamed. “Speaking of which, what are we having?”

“Whatever you cook,” Levi replied.

“I’ll cook. Eggs and bacon sound good?” Hange asked as they stood up.

“They’re not children, Hange. They can make their own breakfast.”

“But they are our children, Levi,” Hange smiled as they walked over to the stove.

Levi just sighed again.

[dannineedsfriends]

As shown by a previous post of myself (@dannixy), a group chat was created of a few parrlyn writers. Together,  we are cooperating in writing a (very big) set of AUS and will, hopefully, be posting unscheduled updates contributing to the tag: #Parrlyn AU Multiverse

Or, in some wise words:

SO GET YOUR BEAUTIFUL QUEEN ASSES READY FOR A PARRLYN OVERLOAD 

Everyone involved in this project will be linked just below: 

@thenameisnoone @little-bit-lost-and-found @sarahzarahh @all-my-love-cathy @politics-notmything @toomanyfamdom @dannixy

--

TRIGGER WARNING:

- sex, porn, flirting, nudity, my bad spelling smh

--

"So you're Katherine's cousin?" Parr asks, tilting her head to the side and taking a sip of the wine that had been set out on the table. The restaurant was lovely; the most exquisite decor and the food was supposedly the best in town. It was atmospheric to say the least - with the  quiet chatter and the dimmed lights and the candles. A perfect first date. 

"Yeah- she told you 'bout me?" The girl across from her, Anne, asked, cocking a brow. Though the girl was well dressed in her striped green, black and white jumpsuit, from a first glance she was definitely not well spoken. 

"Many things, yes. All good though, for the most part anyway." Catherine smiles, charmingly, tilting her head and allowing a curl to bounce over her shoulder. "You clean up well for someone who can't use a toaster without burning whatever is inside it." 

"I could say the same for you- you- you scholar-" Anne tries, rolling her eyes playfully, thumbing with the napkin in front of her. 

Parr tilts her head, watching her with a careful gaze. Her eye glints. "I always tend to ask for another spare napkin on the table if I ever eat out."

"From what I've been told, you're pretty gay for women so-"

"Oh shush. I'm no stranger to that but I always make little birds out of the napkins. They're cute and I always leave a tip with them." She smiles, turning her focus to her own napkin. "Would you like to know how to make one?"

"Have a few more glasses of wine and then I'd like to see you show me." Anne tries, eyebrows raising teasingly and running her finger gingerly over the rim of her glass. 

"By the time I've had a few more glasses of wine." she begins to flirt, lips curling into a smile. "We'll be on our way home." 

"'We'll'? You're planning on taking me home with you? I'm touched, I really am but Kitty's got it wrong, I'm not actually homeless." Anne shakes her head, shrugging and leaning back in her hair, hand leaving her wine and moving to her neck to fiddle with the black choker that resided there. Catherine couldn't help but stare at her exposed skin: her shoulders only interrupted by a thin strap, protruding collarbones casting silky shadows and Parr longed for the thought of laying a hickey just there-

"Really? I couldn't tell." She lies, blatantly. Though she had her own nonchalant tone, she was truly trying her hardest not to smile. She was pretty, like Howard had told her; less pretty and more gorgeous. What her friend had failed to mention was that her cousin was practically a goddess, apparently. 

"Wow," Anne scoffs, rolling her eyes once more, before making a show of raking her view down her body  "Rich coming from you, if I do say so myself." 

"I'll have you find, to your astonishment apparently, that I have received many compliments on my dress, this evening, none of which have been from you." Parr notes aloud. She had been wearing a light blue dress with a sweetheart neckline, not frilled but smooth. Not skin-tight but the bodice seemed to hug her curves just right to do them justice. Her skirt, however, unfurled in waves around her thighs, flowing down to the space just above her knee. It swayed as she walked and she felt elegant doing so, poised and prepared for any possible obstacle that tonight would throw at her. Over her shoulders, though, draped a thin cardigan, definitely unfit for the coldness outside, but judging on the fact that Anne was cloaked in the thinnest paper-ish material that there was, she didn't think herself foolish to be inappropriately dressed. It wasn't that Anne was cheap, or even looked it- her jumpsuit was just thin. If she stared hard enough, she could see her-

"My eyes are up here, babes." Anne's shit-eating grin stretched miles across her face. Was she getting some kind of satisfaction out of  this? 

"I was only enjoying the view." She counters, raising her glass to her lips again to stop herself from letting out a childish grin. Parr couldn't remember the last time she had continuously flirted with someone, let alone a person that she had just met. It felt nice to finally have some chemistry to get her going, if you would. 

"And yet if I did the same, I would be reprimanded?" 

"That's the biggest word I've heard you say all night." 

"Yeah. I read." She snorts, one shoulder shrugging, fingers twitching to twiddle with the fork in front of her. 

Catherine draws her brows together. "Where's the waiter, anyway? Surely we should have been at least served starters by now."

"And we were!" Anne admits, eyes lighting up. "And I did try and save some for you- but you were running late and I didn't want it to go to waste if it was cold…"

"Really? Are you kidding me?" She pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. 

"Hey- if you keep frowning like that, the wind'll change and you'll stay that way."

"If I'm spending more time with you, it wouldn't need to be any different, I shouldn't think." She teases, closing her eyes momentarily to guage her reaction, and- her contact was sitting uncomfortably on her eye. When in doubt, blink until it magically gets fixed.

"You alright? You're almost crying…- if you're that upset about the starter I can just order another-" she looks genuinely concerned, and reaches to grab Parr's hand over the table. Catherine happily allows her hand to be taken by the girl in green. 

"Of course not-!" She says, perhaps a little bit louder than she should've, and then stares around her, paranoid that people were looking. They weren't, for reference. After, though, she lowers her voice. "Of course not- my contact's just moving around-"

"Contacts? You wear glasses." Anne says, an accusatory statement. 

"I figured that wearing my glasses weren't the way to go, when attempting to look pretty." Cathy shrugs, hand moving to fiddle with a golden necklace that had previously been resting against her chest. 

"What kind of frames do you have?" She asks, suddenly, slightly startling Parr from her soft stupor.

"Plain black. Classic nerd glasses."

"So you're telling me that you could've come looking like a sexy librarian?" Anne cocks an eyebrow, looking at Parr from beneath her lashes with a disapproving countenance. "And you didn't?"

The wine got caught in Catherine's throat, causing her to almost splatter it absolutely everywhere. Her cheeks burned ruby, flushing and suddenly her entire body was hot, the whole restaurant seemed a bit too close for comfort. 

"I think you've been watching too much porn." She remarks, having recovered and taken in more wine. Anne's smug smirk drops from her face, reaction completely priceless. It was a moment Catherine wanted to pause and live in just for a few more seconds, few more minutes: from what she could tell, Boleyn didn't get out-witted very often - and when she did, she had no idea what to do with herself. "What's wrong, Annie? Cat got your tongue?"

"Only your cat, I'd hope." 

"Oh how bold of you."

A comfortable silence seems to pass over them, hands still connected over the table, grasping onto one another with no intent of releasing them. 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Anne breaks the gap, squeezing her fingers and downing the last of her wine, upon spying Cathy's empty glass. 

"Let's go." 

--

Anne had been giggling the whole way back to Catherine's house, giddy, and even as they stumbled up the steps she was euphoric. Her ripples of laughter only stopped when they had reached the bedroom, having already kicked off her shoes, there was hardly a moment wasted before Anne was pressed into the wall next to the door. 

Cathy had elevated her, Anne's legs wrapping around her hips, falling naturally into place as much as they could, hooked and secure as Parr's hands found her thighs. She kissed her softly at first, their first binding of intimacy short and sweet and, completely insane, she might add later. Quick dabs of kisses planted across the Boleyn girl's cheek, only to be met with a teasing grin as she finally reached her lips.

Parr moves one hand to cup her jaw, never allowing her gaze to shift from her mouth and her thumb grazing across her lips, lips painted scarlet to perfection. The perfect arch of a cupid's bow and she was sure that it was impossible to be so beautiful. She just grins once more before finally kissing her; it was warm and she just knew that she was about to be covered in her lipstick, not that she cared. If Catherine woke up with her entire body covered in Anne's red lipstick, she would be over the moon. 

Their lips moved in sync against each other, never quite at rest and it was a entirely different atmosphere when Cathy pulled away from her this time- it felt like a whole different universe. She chews on her bottom lip, lips curling mischievously as she pulls Anne off of the wall, fingers sliding across valleys of smooth skin to find the zipper at the back of her jumpsuit. 

She left a gentle kiss against her shoulder, ever so brief before helping her lover out of her clothes, leaving her practically bare and exposed to her. But as Cathy's hands find her waist again, she shakes her head and Anne grins. 

"You're not getting away that easy." Bolelyn smirks, waggling a finger teasingly and allowing it to trance down her partner's face and neck and body. And, imminently, places she had not before imagined. 

--

Cathy had awoken rather early, not by anything in particular, just naturally awakening with the softest smile playing across her lips. In front of her, lays Anne Boleyn, the sheer covers falling and resting over her hip, leaving exposed her back and shoulder blades. 

She smiles, arm reaching out, pulling herself closer to the Boleyn girl and wrapping itself around her, snug. Catherine buries her face in the crook of her neck, gently kissing the area and using her spare hand to move her hair, having been resting on her elbow. 

Anne's neck, however, was practically red-raw and turning purple in places, all over her shoulder and collarbone and she dared not check anywhere else in the girl's slumber. It was a lot more than she remembered leaving, just put it that way. That didn't stop her from gently covering her skin in kisses to wake her up. 

It took a bit longer than expected, but eventually the sleeping goddess' eyes cracked open, smiling and leaning back into Catherine's embrace. 

"Good morning~" Parr hums into her neck, giving her one last kiss before pulling away. Anne, who had previously been facing away from her, turned around and pushed her face into her lover's chest, shaking her head tiredly. "You still tired, my love?" 

"I suspected you'd be a top but I didn't think you'd be that good." Anne admits, and Cathy realised she was hiding the humiliation, not just her face. Her arm still rested around the Boleyn girl's waist, holding her softly in place. 

"And you don't think I thought the same? I can't remember the last time I was topped and genuinely enjoyed it."  Catherine sighs, closing her eyes softly as the other girls arm wraps over her. 

Anne lets out a small laugh, voice still low and drawling and sleepy, before yawning and bringing her face away so that she could look at Cathy.  

"I'm glad that I finally listened to Kitty and took you on a date." The gremlin speaks decidedly, a smile spreading across her lips as Catherine meets her eyes before kissing her softly and slowly. "You're rather affectionate, huh?"

Catherine recoils slightly, many alarms sounding in her head. She was just someone Anne had slept with, not a partner or a girlfriend or anyone that would get affectionate. 

"Yea- yeah-" She gulps, time seeming to slow. Her eyes dart across her face rapidly, frantically searching for a sign of displeasure, discomfort, annoyance. She found nothing, though. The only thing she was sure of was Anne closing the gap she had created between them, and running her fingers to draw playful drawings across Parr's exposed back. 

"So… how would you feel about a second date?"

[mercurygray]

And because I'm terrible - MORE MERMAIDS IN LAKE ZELL 🧜‍♀️ Joan revealing her name to Dick... and possibly leaving the lake before Easy Co leave Zell am See! 🙈 *runs away* Juno xx

In Joigny, he’s distractible.

It’s as if the hourglass of his concentration is finally down to its last few bits of sand, and in between the fall of each last grain there are silences to be filled with daydreams. He thinks about Holland. He thinks about the dead. He thinks about Zell, about a woman with gray eyes, down by the lake on their last day before leaving town, about a whisper in his ear that she thinks will compel him to stay.

It didn’t work. He left. She stayed.

“Major, there's a woman here asking to see you.”

This isn’t anything new - there’s always a woman asking to see him. This office has seen a parade of women, young, old, single, married, widowed...status unknown. Sometimes she has kids with her. More often she’s alone.  She’s put on her best dress and any last bits of lipstick and tried to make herself presentable. She’s steeling herself to do things she doesn’t want to do to compel him to give her what she needs.  The whole thing makes him sick, knowing how many men they’d probably already stood in front of to get where they are now. He is an officer of the US Army and he does not need to be compelled to do what’s right.

“She give a name?”

“She doesn't have any papers.”

He makes a gesture to let her in and tries in vain to rearrange his desk to give some semblance of order. She's probably another DP. It's a common enough occurrence - Half of Europe doesn't have papers, either because the issuing authority burned them, or the issuing authority's been deposed, or the person in charge of overseeing the issuing authority can't be found to authorize the authority to issue things. It's a mess. And the US Army will sort it all out...eventually. But until then, every single one of these people somehow gets to cross his desk, so he can issue an authorization for temporary credentials.

But when he looks up again, it's...her, and she's...taller, and she's...she's here, she's HERE and there's not a puddle of water for miles, and he doesn't remember standing or dropping his pen but he's done these things and tried to walk through his desk besides.

"...Hi."

"Hello, yourself," she replies. She looks different, away from the lake, wearing clothes like the rest of women in Europe wear, her long hair in a crown braid around her head.

"H-h-how'd you...get here?" he asks.

She smiles like this is the most obvious answer in the world, moving her suitcase aside so he can see a pair of long, slim legs, a pair of feet in ugly peasant shoes. "I walked."

A part of his heart plummets. They are beautiful legs, but they're not ...her. Oh, my darling, what have you done to yourself?

"But... I didn't...I didn't ask." I didn't want you to leave your family, your sisters, your home. All those men for all those years who’d asked and bribed and pleaded with you would have done that. That wasn't my choice to make - What sort of man would I be if I'd forced you to go?

"That's why," she says with a smile. "Because you didn't ask." Her face falls slightly, realizing now she may have made the trip for nothing, that all those parting words at the lake may not have been an attempt at chivalry at all. "I...I can go back."

"NO." He's not a hasty person, but he's never been more sure of anything in his life. There’s nothing in the world he would have liked more, but he wasn’t sure what his mother would have said if it came out he’d ordered this woman to come home with him. He likes this story better - beautiful Austrian refugee fleeing the war-torn old world. She’ll fit right in. (They’ll maybe wait about the mermaid thing - Annie will blow a fuse with excitement, she loves mermaids.)

"Well, hello, Duchess!” Someone’s obviously recognized her and spread the news around, because suddenly here’s Lewis, come from goodness knows where for news of his favorite mermaid. (He was convinced for a while that she might have given Lewis her name, and told her so, once. She’d only laughed. “Lewis has other things he needs to worry about first.”) She submits to the kiss, a little bit more of that queenly woman she was in Zell back for a moment. "Someone said you were here and I said they were full of shit. So she DID give you her name," Nixon looked proudly at Dick, and then back at her. “You going to make an honest man out of him?”

“If he’ll let me,” she says, and his heart is so full he thinks it's going to burst.

 “So what name are we supposed to call you?  I know what last name to use,” he says with a wink at Winters,  “but we can’t very well put ‘Duchess’ on your passport.”

She smiles, and he knows immediately what she's going to say - the name he gave her, a name for queens and saints. "You can call me Joan."

(That night, in the bath, she opens her suitcase and shows him the ancient pearls, the silver diadems, a lifetimes’ worth of lovers tokens that are her dowry and her fortune, and, carefully folded into the bottom of her case,  the heavy, shimmering skin patterned with scales like spangles that will turn her back into the woman he raced in the cold, a war trophy of the rarest kind.)

[rustbeltjessie]

Belmont and Clark

I clicked the link Meg sent me, and saw the headline I’d dreaded for years: Demolition Underway at Corner of Belmont and Clark. I read the article, and read another, earlier article on the same topic. I’ll spare you the dull details, but the gist is this—all the buildings on the corner of Belmont and Clark are being bulldozed to make space for some hulking monstrosity of glass and steel, yet another ugly, shiny building where rich people can live, park, eat, and shop. (Just think! One day rich people might be able to live in a completely encapsulated world and not have to breathe the same air as us riffraff!)

I cried a little, and then I got angry. Later that night, I drank whiskey and tried to explain to my partner why I was so upset. My partner attempted to placate me by telling me that it didn’t matter if they tore those buildings down or covered up that parking lot (don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone—they’re building over my favorite parking lot), because the memories will live on in my heart. “No!” I shouted. “You don’t fucking get it!” “I don’t want the memories! I want my Punkin’ Donuts!”

* * *

I’m not drunk, or as emotional as I was that night, but to tell you the truth I don’t know if I can explain anything. I can’t explain why I loved that street and that corner so much. I can’t explain why I’m so fucking pissed that they’re erecting this new building. I know I shouldn’t be this upset. Like I said, I dreaded that headline for years; part of me knew it was coming. My favorite cafe—which had been across the street from Egor’s Dungeon—shut down in 2001 and by 2002 was a trendy shoe boutique (now, it’s a gyro place). Punkin’ Donuts became a combined Dunkin’ Donuts and Baskin Robbins in 2003, and at the same time they started having attendants patrol the parking lot (not that that did much to dissuade either teenage loiterers or drunken brawlers)—and I was mad about that. I wrote about it in the final issue of Safety Pin Girl. I called it the “Death March of Progress.” Less than a year later, Clarke’s remodeled and tried to make themselves seem fancier by doing things like having Daily Specials (but a diner where drunks and weirdos congregate that has Daily Specials is still a diner where drunks and weirdos congregate). Condos and other signs of gentrification started appearing on Belmont a decade ago, and I wrote about that, too: I kicked at the walls of condominiums that now rise to great and ugly heights on the spots where there were once little stores, cozy walkups, and greasy spoons.

So I sorta saw it coming. Not to mention, I never lived in the Belmont/Clark neighborhood, and I haven’t really hung out there since early 2009. Why, then, does this feel like a great personal loss? Why do a few overpriced and overrated “punk rock” shops and a shitty parking lot in front of a crappy chain donut joint still feel so much like home? 

* * *

The closest I got to living in the neighborhood of Belmont and Clark was the apartment I lived in during the first half of 2004. It was just off Belmont, but about two miles farther west, much closer to Western than to Clark. That was close enough. On chill winter days, I hopped on the bus (the Belmont bus!) and rode east, disembarked across from Clarke’s. That was around the time they were trying to make the place a little more upscale, and Maggie and I bitched about it. “Clarke’s sucks now,” we said. “Why do we still go there?” One night, we went to Clarke’s for fries and coffee ‘cause we had nothing better to do, and we ran into a group of old friends and new friends and realized that was why we still went there. Because everyone in town went to Clarke’s. Because none of them had anything better to do, either.

On warm spring days, I took a travel mug full of iced coffee and wandered on foot, no hurry. Sometimes I’d stop to roll a cigarette or browse in a record or bookstore—to drool over all the things I’d’ve bought if I had money to spare. I’d stop and talk to strangers, maybe stop for a bite to eat if I’d scrounged up enough change from my coin jar. Mostly, I just wandered—I had no money to spare but all the free time in the world. I was young and broke and unemployed, and something about swaggering down Belmont in the springtime sunlight made me feel good about being young and broke and unemployed.

And on warm spring nights, Maggie and I hopped astride our bikes and headed east. We sang along to the songs that blared through the shitty handheld tape player she’d duct-taped to her handlebars, and flipped off pedestrians who told us to get off the sidewalk, or flipped off drivers who almost hit us when we rode in the street. Sometimes we stopped at Clarke’s, other times we kept going, and I swear if Lake Michigan weren’t there we could’ve ridden forever. 

* * *

See, my love runs the length of Belmont, from California Avenue east to the lake. It runs from the corner of Belmont and Clark northwest to Cabaret Metro, despite the existence of Wrigley Field and its attendant Cubs fans. And that one little area, from the Belmont Red/Brown/Purple Line stop to the corner, and around the corner to The Alley, is the nexus. It is where my love is at its highest proof.

My love for those streets and the place where they intersect is a swig of cheap vodka. It’s a gut feeling, a flutter and a punch. It is something I’ve been trying to explain for years, which is why I write about it so often. In a piece I wrote years ago, I said: Belmont Avenue is my favorite fucking street in the whole world. I read it at a zine reading, and some people teased me, told me that Belmont was cheesy and overrated. One friend said: “I used to love Belmont, but after I got a citation for smoking cigarettes on the Red Line platform, my enthusiasm waned.” I only smiled and nodded, because those people obviously didn’t get it. I knew Belmont was cheesy and overrated. I loved it anyway. And no matter what fucked-up shit happened to me in that neighborhood, I continued to love it. I continued to love it because…and here, wait, could it be? I finally have an explanation:

It was the first place where I felt comfortable in my skin, accepted and celebrated as a weird artsy kid and as a punk. You know, I could sit on the filthy sidewalk for hours, chain-smoking and writing in my journal, and no one thought I was pretentious or a nerd. I could wear my blue hoodie covered in shoddily sewn-on patches and more often than not, someone would say to me: “Hey, I love that band,” and I’d make a new friend. And it was the first place where I felt accepted not only as a weird artsy punk, but as a queer person. Because there were gay bars, there were same-gender couples kissing and holding hands, there were boys in lipstick and high heels and girls with shaved heads and hairy armpits. So the story of my love for those streets is also a queer coming-of-age story. And it is the story of the girls I knew.

When I think of my days and nights on Belmont and Clark, I remember the girls. Oh, there were boys, boys I dated and slept with and had crushes on; boys I met on Belmont Avenue or hung out with there—but the girls are the ones that stand out in my mind. Girls who were my friends, girls who were my lovers and significant others, girls I only saw once.

There was Annie, my first real-life girlfriend, the person who first took me to Belmont. We walked around holding hands. We went to thriftshops and punk clothing shops; we modeled clothing for each other, bought jars of our favorite Manic Panic hair color—hers Carnation Pink, mine Pillarbox Red. We got coffee from the Punkin’ Donuts to warm our hands against the raw-wet late-winter wind. When I was brave enough, I kissed her and felt a warmth tingle my veins, a warmth greater than any that coffee could produce.

There were the older punk rock girls I met in the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot that first time I was in Chicago all on my own. They were glorious in their spiky, neon-colored hair, their tight jeans and short skirts, their high-top Chucks. We walked together to the MTX/Queers show; they gave me sips of their booze and shouted down catcalling Cubby Bros.

There was Beagan, who sat with me on the summer sidewalks, smoking cigarettes; who walked with me in the soft snow flurries of two-days-before-Christmas. We kissed and giggled. We pointed out the passersby we thought were cute, and assured one another we’d always think the other was the cutest one of all.

There were the girls of my Kokomo Caffe days: Schuyler, who I encountered my first time there. She charmed me with her stick ’n’ poke tattoos and her messed-up hair and her brash attitude. I played “Rebel Rebel” on the jukebox, she knew all the words, and I was in a whirl. Polly, the gorgeous old-school gothpunk. She had flawless Cleopatra eyeliner, her favorite bands were The Slits and The Damned, and she always offered me one of her clove cigarettes (which she kept in a silver case, shaped like a coffin). Winnie, with her shock of red hair and a smile like a match-flare. She gave the best hugs, they were one of the things that helped pull me through that hellish time in my life. Parker—we were both white girls with Chelsea haircuts and steel-toed boots. We bonded over trying to find ways to show the world that, though we looked like skin byrds, we definitely weren’t byrds of the Nazi variety. The girl whose name I never knew—I thought for sure she was gay or bi. She always made eyes at me. She had a leather jacket and a fucking rainbow mohawk. Then I found out she was not a queer punk, she was a Christian punk; she wasn’t trying to flirt with me, she was trying to convert me.

There was Latisha. Though we were on-again/off-again as a couple, there was never any bad blood between us. The night we met, we hung out on Belmont. We went into sex shops where we annoyed the employees by tickling each other with feather dusters and trying out various floggers and whips. We went into clothing stores; I bought a purple plaid dress that I wish I’d held on to, though I’m sure it wouldn’t fit me—it was too tight and too short even then. We parted ways, that night, at the El station—she had to get on the southbound Red Line, I had to board the northbound Brown Line. As we stood on opposite platforms, waiting for our trains, we blew kisses to each other and waved at one another with imaginary perfume-scented handkerchiefs. Over the next four years, much of our time together was spent on that street. We yelled at cops who harassed the homeless who gathered on bus benches and in the Dunkin’ parking lot. Some nights, we got coffee at Clarke’s after queer punk shows. This was when I was young and brazen enough to consider a second-hand slip and torn-up fishnets appropriate show attire, and I know all eyes were on us when we spilled into the diner on those nights—scruffy punk girl me, falling out of my slip, high femme Latisha with her high high heels and her pin-up girl dresses, both of us half-drunk, with make-up smeared by pogo-sweat. Other nights, we danced at the Belmont gay bars. Our favorite nights were ‘80s nights, when we could writhe, melodramatic and strange, to new wave and New Romance. Sometimes we did shots with drag queens. Sometimes one or the other of us picked up a hot butch and left with them, or let them fuck us in the bathroom. Usually, we just danced; usually, we went home together.

Once, walking down Belmont with a friend of mine, a punk girl looked me up and down, from the top of my short black hair to the booted toes of my red and black striped tights. She gave me such a lustful look that my friend turned to me and said: “Damn. That girl looked at you the way a Gossip song sounds.”

There was Filia—every time she visited my neck of the woods, we bummed around Belmont and Clark. Usually, it was summer. We drank iced coffees until we thought we might puke. We smoked endless cigarettes, though the sodden summer air was so thick in our lungs we choked on it. We ogled skinheads and picked up bottle caps we found on the ground. We sang “Summer in the City” at the top of our lungs, convinced that a Chicago punk band should cover it because it was the anthem of Belmont in the summer, and the backs of our necks were dirty and gritty. Babe, don’t you know it’s a pity…

There was Maggie, who I mentioned above, my long-time partner-in-crime from the moment we met. Maggie and I on the bus, on our bikes, on foot. Maggie and I headed east on Belmont. Maggie and I stopping into Schuba’s to drink afternoon beers and take silly photobooth pictures. Maggie and I staying up all night at Clarke’s, or loitering in the parking lot of the Punkin’ Donuts. Maggie and I stopping into Blue Havana to buy Bali Shag; Blue Havana which we referred to as HomoSmoke, because everyone who worked there was gay as hell. There was a cute butch gal who worked there, she had a tiny ‘hawk and a face full of piercings and we both awkwardly attempted to flirt with her. Maggie and I—I’ll stop now, because I have so many Maggie/Belmont memories that I could fill up a whole fuckin’ book with those.

And there were others. Other girl friends and girlfriends, other girls I flirted with, other girls I was too nervous to even talk to. Out-of-town pals I took to Belmont when they came to visit, and in-town friends who loved that neighborhood almost as much as I did. Zine-writing girls and rock’n’roll girls. Goth girls and punk girls. Girls with mohawks and girls with dreadlocks and fuzzy-headed baby dykes. Tattoo artists and hairstylists and baristas and diner waitresses. I love(d) them all.

* * *

After I read the articles, I read the comments. The commenters fell into three different categories. 1. The balanced, rational people. They said they were ambivalent about the proposed building but thought that progress was good for the neighborhood. 2. Those who said: “Good riddance! There are muggings in that neighborhood that are probably perpetrated by the teenagers who loiter in that parking lot!” Those who said: adios crappy Dunkin' Donuts and nasty Ally [sic] building. That corner has been nothing but a hangout for hookers and troublemakers for years. 3. The nostalgia-keepers, who shared stories of hanging out there before and after punk shows or raves. They said: “Yeah, there were problems, but the place had character.” Someone responded to one of the nostalgia-keepers, and said: are you saying you are sad to see a dunkin donuts [sic] and its parking lot go? If so, that’s fucking weird.

Well, then I’m fucking weird, too. I could try and give you some arguments against gentrification, some reasoning behind why I think it’s important to leave a space for the wacky teenagers and their crime, for the troublemakers and the hookers, because that’s part of what’s making me angry. What I’m even angrier about is that they’re destroying a piece of my history, and I don’t like change. I like change when it means gaining new experiences and interests and friends, but when it means losing people and places? Fuck that. I get grumpy when places I love get remodeled, and I get downright livid when they’re torn down. I can’t remember the last time a girl looked at me the way a Gossip song sounds, and most of the girls I mentioned above are no longer part of my life. I’m fucking selfish, and if I can’t have the girls and the moments back, well—I would rather see those buildings and businesses vacant and crumbling than see them razed. That way, at least, they would stand as a monument to my past. That way, I could visit them and see the ghost of my old self peering out from the empty windows, my old self with her slip-dress and her smeared make-up, her endless cigarettes and scribbled notebooks, gazing out the windows, waiting for the girl(s) she loved to pass by.

My partner was right, in a sense. The memories do live on in my heart. All the girls, all the people I encountered near that corner, will live in the Belmont and Clark of my heart forever. All the people and a hundred moments and a thousand small things. The cracked sidewalks covered in broken glass, the secret graffiti, the heavy silver-green trees of Chicago in the summer. The stench of car fumes and donut grease and diner grease, cigarette smoke and beer and that weedy lake-smell when the wind is blowing in from the east. The abrasive honking of taxis, drunks singing their favorite songs, “Belmont is next. Doors open on the left at Belmont.” Sometimes, I think I’m okay with everything going away from me forever—girls, places, everything—but right now, I’m not. It’s all tattooed on my fucking heart, but that’s not good enough.

I want a tattoo of the CTA map, with the Belmont stop blown up bigger than the rest. I want a brick from the rubble of Blue Havana and Architectural Revolution. I want to stand on the corner and chug a 40 oz. of Old Style; I want to pour the dregs onto the cracked hot sidewalk. I want to scream: “Fuck Building a New Chicago! I want the old one back!” I want to sing, with Chain and the Gang backing me up: “Devitalize!” I want to save that brick from the rubble of my past, and when they build that hideous new building, I want to send it hurtling through the shiny windows. Attached will be a note that reads: “Fuck you. You’ll never fucking get it.”

—Jessie Lynn McMains [originally published as a mini-zine in early 2015; also appears in the collection What We Talk About When We Talk About Punk]

[pynkhues]

I just have ask, cause I need to just voice this.. (BTW I do love the show no worry) Am I the only one who thought it was such a stupid reason that the new FBI decided that the fake money was made by women was because they used fuckin' NAIL POLISH?!! I legit sat dumfounded, I mean... wtf? What, men can't think to add nail polish to their fake money?

Haha, I get why you don’t like it, anon. As a functional plot device it’s a little hammy, but I appreciate it as a thematic plot device so much that I actually like it a lot overall. 

This show doesn’t really have a lot of recurring objects like many shows do, but when they are introduced, they usually serve as a means of underlining the gendering of spaces, crime and life, which is a theme this show is about as obsessed with as I am. I talked pretty extensively about the gendering of spaces and how the show uses them in this post (man, I should update this with the delicious new spaces in s3, because they continue all of these trends in such interesting ways!), and briefly touched on the gendering of objects too (namely Rio’s golden gun, and the dubby), but it really does extend well beyond that.

So let’s break that down a little!

(Under a cut to save your dashes!)

Functional vs Thematic Plot Devices

Plot devices take a hundred different shapes and forms throughout a story, and of course, always serve to drive narrative forwards, tell the audience something about a character, or drive home a narrative theme. Plot devices aren’t always physical – in many cases they can be a trope, expectation, lie, red herring, among many other things, but for the sake of this post I want to talk about physical plot devices.

So basically, I want to talk about the way this show uses objects.

It might not seem like it on the surface, but this is a show that uses objects as plot devices a lot. Sometimes these are obvious – the money for instance, the Boland Motors car Turner drudges from the lake back in s1, the dubby (and ho, boy, I have a lot to say about that last one, but I’ll come back to that), the guns, Lucy’s phone, etc etc etc.

While these are, of course, essentially props, this is a show that typically lends a lot of weight to them, and in particular, it lends a lot of weight to feminine-coded objects that would in other shows frequently be dismissed as inconsequential.

A pearl necklace, an old lady’s porcelain figurines, a smear of lipstick on a pen cap, a child’s blanket, a new engagement ring, a pregnancy test, vials of botox, and nail polish, among many other things, become objects of narrative and thematic importance.

When it comes to these sorts of physical plot devices, I generally separate them into two categories: functional and thematic.

Functional plot devices are ultimately what they sound like. They serve an often purely functional purpose in the story. Things like the Boland Motors car that the girls took to Canada, dumped, and then was drudged up by Turner. It was used as a means of re-directing Turner’s attention on Beth, while also revealing to Dean that Beth had been the person who’d robbed him back in 1.03. More recently too, the hockey jersey that Ruby stole was a means of ultimately giving us a fun heist as the girls scrambled to get the money to pay for Beth’s life, as well as getting us to the pawn shop where Ruby would see the pen that Sara had stolen.

Functional plot devices – at their most basic – move plot forwards, bridge the gaps between characters and accelerate the action and drama of a story.

Thematic plot devices on the other hand serve a different purpose, and are often less bogged down, I find at least, in perfect logic. While they need to do what a functional plot device does, they also carry the extra weight of underpinning character arcs and often punctuating the key themes of the story. The sled in Citizen Kane is a really good example of this – as a functional plot device it’s just a specific sled and a sort of silly thing for a multimillionaire to want when he can buy as many sleds as he wants, but as a thematic one, we lean that it’s the key thing in his life connecting him back to his childhood, his innocence and his humanity, and comes to represent the central loss of the film.

Similarly, Harry’s lightning bolt scar in the Harry Potter series serves as a functional plot device to tell us and Harry when Voldemort is near, but it actually evades logic to eschew a greater purpose – which is reiterate the theme of motherly love and protection in the story.

Sharp Objects

Good Girls uses objects this way a lot and frequently shifts them between the two purposes, and it has done that since the very beginning. Using toy guns on the very first Fine & Frugal robbery for instance, was a silly plot point used ultimately to get them into the situation with Boomer at the end, but it also thematically represented the naivety of the girls in the robbery, and Annie and Beth’s powerlessness overall, but especially in the scene with Boomer (something immediately juxtaposed with Beth hitting him with the bourbon bottle). It also works effectively as a means of showing how far Beth would come across the first season as she held a real gun at the end of it, and the further slip of her moral character and what she’s capable of across season 2 and 3.

Sometimes they seem to appear as purely functional too, but evolve into thematic ones – meaning they are enriched with weight and purpose as they transition in their design.

A good example of that is Boomer’s cell phone in 2.03 which was purely functional – serving as a means of tricking the girls into believing they were disposing of Boomer’s body, not Jeff’s, before it was pivoted in the last scene to be used on a thematic and character level. By Annie listening to Marion’s voicemails through it, it served to re-link Annie to her own humanity, and underpin her arc with Marion that would ultimately lead to betrayal, redemption, grief and guilt.

The Dubby: a quick aside

The best example though, at least to me, is, of course, the dubby. The dubby does a lot of heavy lifting on virtually every story level, and I could honestly wax lyrical about it until the end of time.

On a functional plot level, it’s there to ultimately get Beth shirking Rio’s instructions and throwing her weight against him in their partnership. It forces her to confront the fact that she views herself and Rio as equals, when the reality is – in situations like that – they’re not. It also gets us to confrontations between Beth with Dean, Rio and Ruby, as well as Annie and Ben (I told you it did a lot of heavy lifting!), served as the means to which Noah and Annie met (boo), revealed Rio’s hand emotionally, and forced Beth to face on a textual level (as opposed to subtextual level) her changing relationship with her home, with her role as a mother, and ultimately her children.

On a thematic level, it explores all that and more! Not only is it deeply, deeply symbolic of a loss of innocence (a baby blanket in a drug den!) – something that’s reiterated by the girls almost being raped in that house – but Rio’s desire, for whatever reason, to give it back to her (something actually reiterated in 2.08 when he tries to handle the baby hitmen for her) – a really, really interesting beat for a character that seems to revel in her moral decline. Rio has, I think, always wanted her to be both. Again, something that is the clearest we’ve ever seen in this episode – he wants her to own up to what she is (a drug dealer) during their fight, while simultaneously trying to restore her to a seemingly frivolous comfort as a mother. It’s complicated! And I love it!

It’s also a highly feminised object that is weaponised against Beth twice. Firstly, by Jane as a means of guilting Beth (she lost it in the drug den), then criminally (by the, y’know, criminals), and then Beth actually weaponises it herself against the woman in the craft store in a female hierarchical sense which is totally fascinating to me and feels very true of Beth as reiterating the sort of alpha woman she is.

I could keep talking about this, but let’s move on, haha.

Claws

It’s not just about character arcs though.

Thematic plot devices are also often used as symbolic touchstones to re-emphasise the key themes of the show overall, and it’s in this sense that the nail polish operates – to me – really effectively. The writers aren’t saying that nail polish is only used by women, they’re saying that it’s a feminine-coded object deemed frivolous or silly by a patriarchal society (which it is, even when men wear it), and that women can use that dismissal as a weapon.

In other words, the key through line of the show.

The girls have operated with this sensibility since the show began, acting within underestimated, feminine-coded spaces and using them, basically in a way that messes with people’s expectations. It doesn’t always work in their favour, but that’s not a bad thing, and I don’t think that that’s the story this show is trying to tell. Rather I think it’s simply trying to say that these things are active, and can be powerful and used in interesting ways. They’re not passive or frivolous as history has told us.

They’ve frequently actually tried to use female-coded objects in crime before too – namely Marion’s figurines, the secret shopping scheme, the botox – all of which failed in unique ways (all of which too were briefly entertained but ultimately rejected by Rio, and it’s interesting that a key transition in Beth and Rio’s relationship occurred around Boland Motors – a masculinised space that Beth feminised on her takeover of it – I spoke about that quite a bit in the gendered spaces post I linked to above!)

The nail polish though has been the first true, pure success of a weaponised, feminine-coded object in the crime storylines, and it’s not an accident that that has coincided with the launch of the girls’ operation and their pure success without Rio. Being able to use it to make the money has been key to representing their feminisation of the crime world and the crime space on a thematic level, and I’d argue represents a ‘full circle’ moment with the success of their returns-for-cash scheme working with Rio originally (again, a feminine-coded operation).

Like I said in my gendered spaces post – Beth, Ruby and Annie are at their strongest and smartest when they’re utilising the familiar, feminine-coded world and weaponizing it, as opposed to copying Rio’s highly masculine-coded world (one of the clearest examples of this ever on the show was this season actually when Beth realised she couldn’t intimidate Gil like Rio, but could blackball him in PTA mom mode). The nail polish is actually a key symbol of that too, and the fact that it’s identified by a female FBI agent is about reiterating the same themes. Phoebe has a chance to take down the girls and close in on them because she doesn’t underestimate that world like Turner did and Rio’s still prone to doing.

The nail polish in that sense formed not only a functional plot device (with making the money in the first place), a thematic one (the underestimation of feminine-coded objects by men), but a bridging device that makes Phoebe a real enemy to the girls. It also serves as a great narrative underscore as Phoebe removes that nail polish from circulation, not only indicating that Phoebe operates in that space as well as Beth, Ruby and Annie, because she’s a part of that world in a way Turner wasn’t, but forming a terrific narrative parallel where as Beth loses further control of her operation, she also loses control of a key ingredient which gained her that operation in the first place.

So yes! Less function, more theme, but I don’t know.

I’m pretty into it, haha.

[theewrites-tf2]

(Kudos to @teamfortressaswell for the idea, OC REVIVAL FOR 2020!!!)

OC information of Theewrites, ENJOY Y’ALL!

WARNING: LONG, LOOOOOONG POST AHEAD! (And I info-dump alot, so be prepared for some heavy reading material)

(Also, not all of these backstories/OC canon’s are set in stone, and i’m still doing research on their respective characterizations/lifestyles/ect. they’re still in the editing/drafting process, but these are the basics of some of my older OC’s that you may know… and some of my NEW Oc’s that you may NOT know…. Yet, Mwhahaha!)

Regine: Eldest abandoned & disowned daughter of the RED Spy. Born in Marseilles, France, Parisian-raised until five years of age. Vanished suddenly for nearly a decade, resurfaced in Japan as an assassin prodigy at fifteen. Is totally not soft on her half-siblings, but is totally soft on her half-siblings. Cool, regal and calculated, plans to have the world in the palm of her hand before she hits 30. Long-time girlfriend of Matthias, identifies as pan. Has lost her temper one (1) time in her lifetime, immediately went to reapply lipstick afterwards like nothing happened. Definitely has night-terrors about her childhood, doesn’t discuss them with Matthias, and absolutely takes those nightmares to the grave.

Matthias: Unauthorized clone of the RED Medic, is physically near-identical to him with only minor changes and a stark age-reduction. Has considered bleaching/dying his hair to look more different than his predecessor. Expert in human biology and chemistry, experimented with his own blood cells so to transform them into a more… internal version of the components of the Medi-Gun, so as not to carry around clunky equipment. Is the low-key tired dad of the group. Probably designate roadtrips with the squad and immediately regrets it. Romantic-dork for his girl,  Best Supporting Boyfriend 197X.

Emma: Daughter of Ex-MannCo employee, Julia V. Henry and [REDACTED]. Legal goddaughter of Dell Congher. Child-genius, though deep-seated anger issues since childhood, potentially as a behavior coping tragedy. Built her first plane with her bare hands at twelve, can dismantle and rebuild a shotgun in exactly 63 seconds. Doesn’t wear helmets on motorcycle. Feels happiest flying in the air, alone. Absolutely, 100% adores kids, and will never admit it. Can’t go more than a minute without cursing. Also, though not information she shares immediately, she’s an elder twin. And she doesn’t like talking about it, so it’s best not to push her luck on the details.

Lui: Ultimate flower/pastel lesbian. Fluent in Japanese and English, though prefers her mother’s language, Hawaiian. Brings snacks to battle, often rehearses her battle catchphrases the night before. Makes friends with every animal she meets, owns a duck named Bartholomew. Reads teen fashion magazines, draws hearts around models she crushes on. Almost everything she owns has pink, no matter what shade, including her rocket launcher. Shares Emma’s love of the sky, is basically Emma’s favorite person. Infectious genuine smile, and will sing along to every new bop on the radio.

Tamela: The eldest out of the entire group, born in Nigeria, doesn’t know her parents. Considers her squad her family, Emma and Lui are her baby sisters, who can MORE than handle themselves but she still worries. Was gifted with abilities of fire-manipulation/telekinesis and heat resistance at a young age. Entire body, from knuckles to toes, is covered in jet-black flame tattoos. Demisexual, has not been in a romantic relationship as of yet, likely to change. Improvo leader, often first into battle and last to leave. Looks imposing and intense at first glance, is actually very warm (haha) and friendly personality-wise, but has a serious streak from having to grow up quickly.

Denny: Mute from birth, youngest of the group. Has never missed a shot in his life, expert target-shooter and excellent sniping protege. Definitely idolizes Annie Oakley, dressed up as her one year for Halloween.  Often corrects Emma’s sign-language, but appreciates her efforts. Like Tamela, see’s the group as his family, sticking together through thick and thin. Likes to hike, but also enjoys reading, keeping a raggy, decades-old copy of Sherlock Holmes in his knapsack, right next to his additional ammo.

Ricardo: Born Rosetta, the youngest of a fairly well-off hotel-chain family business throughout Tijuana, Mexico. Was often the forgotten one and left to his own devices, so he practiced running, dreaming of being an Olympic runner. Became Ricardo at 15, traveled to the US a year later. A bit boastful and chatty, though is often last to get a joke. Had a crush on Lui for sometime, before reconnecting with an old schoolmate, Maria, who he plans to move back to Mexico with after his job is done. Hasn’t given up on the dreams of the Olympics, often wakes up long before the sun rises to run laps around.

Sigríður Anja Dis Jóhannsson, or just Sig: Operational MannCo. Shipment Specialist Expert, has been on the payroll for only the last decade, but has become invaluable with the knowledge she has. Born in Iceland, has traveled the world on specialized shipment and cargo missions, even in more dangerous missions and item-requests. Has had to play poker for her own life, more than once. Single and childless, though she took care of her half-sisters children when she died suddenly, her niece and nephews now all grown up and located elsewhere. Sig is happy to travel alone on the open seas, though she’s had more than a fair amount of lovers around the world, men and women alike. Looks forward to retirement, hopefully with someone more long-term whose also ready to lean back, put away the balisong and let the kids take care of the damn gravel pit…

Jonathan Marks: Born Jane to wealthy stockbroker located in Manhattan, Jonathan is the promising CEO of Marks Enterprises, an international trading and environmental-studies. As the youngest CEO of his company, he’s expressing interest to making big changes, including looking into MannCo, hoping to form a co-ownership or eventually takeover, mostly for the sake of his own company, but the fact that MannCo seems to have a few secrets in the closet that seem suspicious… Jonathan knows Regine from childhood, as they both attended the same private school in Japan, prior to Jonathan’s transition. Very book-smart, often tries to lead by example, he’s persistent with getting a meeting with representatives of MannCo, growing more suspicious as time goes on with dodged replies, forcing him to contact a current employee for an opportunity of a private tour of their facilities, one Miss. Binyamin-M’laney

Angelita de los Reyes: Second-generation of Cuban immigrants, Angelita was considered one of the kindest, sweetest people while in school in New Jersey, unfortunately, her studies were often halted as she suffers from CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) leaving her exhausted before noon often times, though she managed to graduate with a specialty in painting. Though she turned mostly house-ridden after high school, she honestly enjoys spending her day painting and creating art to decorate the family-restaurant downstairs, and also sending her artwork to commissioners all over the state. It also gives her time to send plenty of letters to one of her oldest and closest friends from high-school. He was VERY much higher than her in energy, and could literally run blocks in minutes, but they practically grew up together, at least until he moved to New Mexico for work… Though, strangely enough, Angelita doesn’t get much information about Eric’s company Builders League United, even though he has a whole CONTRACT with them… Hm. How odd.

Sarai Binyamin-M’laney: Born in Tel Aviv as a Mizrahi Jewish woman, her parents sent her to vacation in California when she was six, in which they died suddenly, leaving her overseas with her relatives in Cambria, California. Book-smart and a lover of the beach and surfing, Sarai was popular throughout her younger years, especially with the ladies. Though she identified as bisexual, it wasn’t until she graduated college with a degree in human relations and psychology that she had her first, though admittedly short-lived relationship with an unnamed man in Vegas, returning to Cambria shortly after and finding out she was pregnant. A year later, Sarai suddenly expressed interest in the minute human-resources division in MannCo, relocating to New Mexico shortly after her employment. Quiet, smart and with a very private personal life, she was a perfect, though secretive employee, with a bit of a soft-heart, as seen with how concerned she is for her ‘niece’ and ‘nephew’ back in Cambria, and how quickly she snuck in Mr Marks into the private industries. Her personality, perhaps, is meant to be a more opposing to that of the father of her two children in Cambria. After all, though she lives mere miles from his work location, Sarai has yet to bring herself to walk over and face the red-suited mercenary over in the RED base, whom she still can’t help but remember from their time together in Vegas.

 I told y’all it was long as hell, Also it alludes to my OC-canon, which is INSANELY long and i’d hate to waste more of y’alls time on my stuff Xp

 Anyway, GO REVIVE THE OC COMMUNITY, PEOPLE HAVE SUCH AWESOME OC’S THAT NEED/DESERVE TO BE SHARED AROUND!!!

[evil-ice-princess]

Breathe Me In

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Main Character (unnamed) 

♡ Description: You attend a party in Beverly Hills where you reunite with your enemy, Jungkook. 

♡ Genre: Romance 

♡ Warning: Descriptions of hella making out (lol), implied sex, underage drinking, cursing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯   

♡ Word count: 5419 

You were the good girl. Friday nights consisted of doing AP homework instead of getting drunk with your friends. Your grades were stellar. You held numerous leadership positions, and you were on the varsity tennis team. Any of the Ivies would drop on their knees to accept you. Of course, you weren’t thinking about school all the time. God, it would be social suicide to be a nerd. Those kids…were weird. You lived in Beverly Hills after all. Shopping at Louis Vuitton with your girlfriends. Eating at Nobu and Katsuya every other week. It was the norm. You had even had your fair share of hooking up with a few boys, but most of them sucked. You would think the boys at Harvard Westlake would be pretty decent, but your experiences proved otherwise. They would kiss you, and the next second wanted you to be their girlfriend. You just wanted the pleasure, you didn’t need all the boyfriend shit. And honestly their kissing wasn’t stellar either. But, all that changed on the first night of summer.

♡~♡~♡

“You coming to Jungkook’s party tonight?” Adrianna asks me as she begins to reapply her vibrant red lipstick. I look up from my AP U.S. History textbook, bewildered.

“You know my parents would kill me,” I reply. “And Jungkook Jeon? What an ass.”

“It’s the first day of summer! What the hell do you even have to study tonight?!” Naomi exclaims, continuing to text her boyfriend, Ethan, on her phone.  “And Jungkook? Damn, if I didn’t have Ethan, I would sooo hook up with him.” She looks up from her phone glancing at her girl friends. “You so did not hear me say that,” she quickly says and then looks back down at her phone. Everyone laughs, including me.

“I don’t know…I mean I would go, but my parents…” I trail off. “I’ll ask I guess,” I mumble. The girls cheer, and I smile. I mean…it’s the first day of summer. Would my parents really make me stay in? 

♡~♡~♡

“Absolutely not!” my father exclaims, incredulously. 

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s Jungkook’s party. You like him, don’t you?” I reply. His parents are super close friends with my parents, but whenever Jungkook would come over I would just lock myself in my room saying I had way too much homework to do. 

“Yes, but --”

“Soooo, you can trust me not to do anything bad. Jungkook’s sooo nice, too. Please, it’s the first day of summer,” I beg.

“No. You have to start writing college admissions essays, don’t you?” “I have five months, Dad! Please!”

“If your father says no, then the answer is no,” my mother replies. I bite my lip from uttering something that I would regret. God, they sicken me. I do every damn thing they want, yet they won’t let me do one little thing. “Fine. Can I at least go to the library to write the essays? Mom, you can even drop me off,” I ask, a plan forming in my head. 

She looks at my dad, but he just scowls and walks away. Typical. “Fine, but I’ll pick you up at 11:30 PM.” 

“Thank you,” I reply. I walk to my room and immediately enter my walk-in closet. What to wear, what to wear? I pull open a drawer and look through the vast collection of lingerie I had secretly bought with my friends. I decide to wear a beautiful strapless black lace bra with matching underwear. Why not? I think. It’s not every damn day I dress up. I throw on a navy blue crewneck I had bought during a college campus visit at Columbia and put some leggings on. I then go through all my dresses and pick a strappy lace-y black romper. Searching through my shoes I finally find my dazzling black Gucci heels adorned with diamonds and grab a silver necklace with a single pearl. It was a gift Jungkook’s parents had actually given me for my sixteenth birthday, and it happened to be my favorite necklace. I hook the necklace around my neck and hide it beneath my sweater. I put the romper and heels at the bottom of my backpack and fill a small makeup bag with the essentials I need. I am going to that damn party. 

I text Adrianna quickly: Ade, pick me up from the library at 6 please? 

Adrianna: sure whatever ly ❤

I smirk to myself as I walk out of my room. I look plain. No makeup on my face. Hair in a messy bun. Leggings and a crewneck sweatshirt. No one would suspect I was planning to go to the hottest party of the summer. It is 4:30. I had a lot of time to kill at the library. “Mother! I’m ready!” I call, annoyed. 

Moments later, I am in my mother’s Porsche, and she silently drives me to the Beverly Hills Public Library. It was a fifteen minute drive, and I wave goodbye to her as soon as she pulls up in front of the library. At that moment, I feel the slightest bit of guilt. I tried to not break the rules too often, but this party…it was calling me. AP Exams were done. I know I got all 5s. All my SATs and Subject Tests were done. 1500+ of course. All my finals went well. I deserve this party. “Hey mom? I love you,” I say, and that makes me feel a little bit better for my lying. She gives a soft smile. I turn away walking towards the library before it becomes a sappy moment. 

I open my laptop and go to Netflix to turn on my favorite TV show at the moment, Beverly Hills, 90210. I immerse myself within the characters’ drama, and as I watch Kelly kiss another boy, I somehow wish my life is as interesting as theirs. Naomi has her boyfriend, Ethan. Adrianna, a growing actress, gets to be practically anyone else she wanted with all the roles she is receiving. Silver is constantly making films and blogging. Even Annie’s, the principal’s daughter, life seems more interesting than mine. I sit there sulking at this fact while watching the show for a while when a text pops up. 

Jimin: u comin to the party 2nite

I sit up suddenly interested. Jimin has no reason to text me…unless maybe he wanted to…do some things. I quickly type back a yes. 

Jimin: cant wait ;)

I ponder over his texts. He is the typical fuckboy material. Hooking up with girls and leaving them when they least expect it. Do I want that? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. But I think back to the time we had made out at his beach house a few summers ago…he wasn’t as bad as the rest of the boys either when it came to all that. Maybe he could be the perfect summer fling, and when school started we could break it off. Being alone is good enough for me. Adrianna finally arrives at the library at 6:13 PM, and I jump into the passenger seat as she begins to drive home. 

“Damn, that outfit is definitely going to impress the boys,” she says, looking at my lazy outfit. 

“Yep, this bitch is definitely getting it tonight.” I point at myself making a weird face. We laugh, and it feels good. Good to be away from my parents. From school. 

Soon we are in her house, and within fifteen minutes our friends are all here. Annie and Silver lie on Adrianna’s bed gossipping while Naomi applies makeup. Adrianna straightens her hair, and I strip myself of my boring clothes. She glances at me and a devilish smile appears on her face. “Now that’s going to impress some boys,” she says, admiring my lingerie set. 

“Thanks,” I say while putting on the romper. It hugs me in all the right places. Just the right amount of cleavage and legs. I turn around in the mirror, realizing people would be able to see my bra. Dammit, I forgot this was a backless romper. 

“Oh, honey, you should definitely take the bra off.” Naomi says. I expertly unclasp the bra and throw it at her. “Hey!” she squeals. What seems like just seconds is a couple of hours. By the time we are all done gossipping, giggling, and getting ready it is 10 PM. I walk out of the bathroom and twirl around for the girls. 

“What do you think?” I ask, winking. 

“Hot, hot, hot,” Silver exclaims. Along with the low-cut black romper I paired it with the sparkling Gucci heels and pearl necklace. I kept my makeup to a minimal. A bit of foundation. A little blush. Some mascara and eyeliner. My lips painted with a glittery gloss. My perfectly curled hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and overall, I portray the typical rich Beverly Hills girl. 

Because Jungkook’s house is just a few houses down from Adrianna’s, we walk to the big mansion. My eyes widen as I absorb the beauty of his house. God, he really has it all. He has it all except for a nice personality. 

We enter the home, and everyone separates to different aspects of the party. Naomi to Ethan. Silver and Annie towards the food. And Adrianna towards the party games. So that leaves me. Alone. At a party. A waiter passes by, holding a few different cocktails, and I take a pink-colored one. I want to explore every inch of this grand palace. Jungkook is lucky. He is lucky as hell. Something told me I would be coming back to his house, so I know I will have a lot of other opportunities to see his mansion. I decide to go out to the backyard. This was not a typical backyard though with some uneven grass and a little pool. This is Beverly Hills after all. An infinity pool is placed on the edge, looking out towards the sparkling lights of Los Angeles. Downtown is clearly in view. People are swimming in the pool and seem content. There are a few outdoor couches spread out, and a little mini bar station serving a plethora of alcoholic drinks and sophisticated appetizers. 

I spot Jimin with Jungkook, who happen to be best friends, and his eye catches mine. His lips begin to smile, and I can see his eyes rake over my body. I remember how he did that last time; my cheeks grow warm, and I head back inside. Jungkook does not turn around to see what his friend is staring so intently at.

Practically every room is filled with people. In such a big home, I expected there would be an empty room, but no. After ten minutes of searching, I am finally able to find an isolated living room. A half empty bottle of champagne sits on the glass table, and I pour myself the remnants into my glass. Maybe I was bored, or maybe I unconsciously wanted to get drunk, either way, I just could not stop drinking. I fish my iPhone out of my pocket and see a few text messages from my parents asking how my essays are coming along. Fuck them. A bunch of snapchat notifications are on my phone, and I see Jimin had sent me one. Seven minutes ago. It is a blurry selfie of himself, and he had captioned it “where r u”. I don’t reply. 

Suddenly, a voice says, “So, she finally decided to show up,” My head whips around, and I see Jungkook standing there looking down at me, an empty champagne glass in his right hand, and another bottle in the other. He sports a classic dark suit, and he has a single black stud in his ear. Typical bad boy look. “What are you doing all alone?” he teases, as he takes a seat right next to me on the plush couch. I don’t say anything. The side of his body presses against mine, and I tense up. “I was looking for you.” he says, and I look at him, a mixture of disgust and curiosity on my face. 

“Go away, Jungkook,” I say, turning away from him. I did not want to see his face. I hate him.

“C’mon. You don’t talk to me anymore, and I don’t even know why.”

“You know exactly why,” I snap, and I turn to look at him. I am unable to read his expression. 

“I don’t know,” he protests, and he pours a glass of champagne for himself. He tips the bottle towards me, and I hold out my glass to have him fill it up. 

“Why does it matter anyway?” I ask. 

“Because every time I go to your house you shut me out. I’m stuck sitting with your and my parents listening to them talk about whatever shit they always talk about. You just did it for no reason, and all I want to know is why.”

“Dammit, Jungkook. You slept with one of my best friends after telling me you loved me. Gee, I definitely don’t have ANY reason to be mad at you right?” 

He looks hurt, but he knows it is true. “You didn’t say anything to me! You just looked at me and left! I…I didn’t know what to do. Did you think I would just wait for you forever?”

“I liked you, and you couldn’t even wait. I had to think things through!” My words are faltering. Why did I reject him? I was probably scared. Scared to get into a relationship. Scared of the emotional attachment that comes with dating. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Clearly, we have different people in our lives anyway.” I justify, thinking about how Jimin had smiled at me earlier. And I know Jungkook probably has someone else too. I shift my body towards him, and his gaze makes me want him. I want him even though I despise him. The tension between us heightens as we both look at each other. I avert my eyes away from him and quickly change the topic. “So. What’s the point of throwing these big parties anyway?” I ask, taking a sip of the champagne. 

“To let go. To feel less alone,” he curtly replies, downing his glass of champagne and pouring another. How many glasses had he already drank? He pushes his hair back and exhales. “What about you?” 

“Same reason, I guess.”

“How are your parents doing…?” he asks tentatively. 

“They’re pretending as if nothing is wrong. He fucking cheated on her, and she doesn’t do anything.” I don’t know why I’m telling him about my personal problems, but it’s not like any of my friends would listen. We had to portray ourselves as perfect girls who did not have any worries. We were supposed to be who everyone looked up to. It feels invigorating telling him my problems. 

He sighs. “I’m sorry,” I can tell he means it. Maybe he is different from every other rich Californian boy here. So maybe he screwed up once…but he still seemed like the sweet boy I knew. “Obviously, you can tell from all this that my parents still don’t give a shit about what the hell I do,” he mutters taking another swig of the champagne. 

“Can’t be that bad to have parents who don’t care, can it?”

“Well, think about it this way. If my parents actually cared, do you think I would throw these parties? Would I be hooking up with girls in hopes to have them stop me? God, you would think me having done drugs a few times would have made them notice.”

I sit up, having never thought about it that way. 

“Is it some sort of requirement for the rich kids to have shitty parents?” 

He scoffs. “Guess so.”

We sit in silence for a heartbeat, leaning into each other both of us afraid to do or say anything.

“I miss you.” he says suddenly. I know he is thinking about the times we had laughed in the basement of his beach house while watching movies. The times he would help me with my math homework. They were good memories, but that didn’t change anything now. I shift away.

“Jungkook, just stop. Nothing changes between us just because we both have shitty parents. It can’t take away what you did to me.”

“What was I supposed to do? I waited for you, and you made it pretty clear you didn’t feel the same way.”

“You didn’t give me enough time -– you know what, we’re not talking about this again. I’m done.” I stand up to leave. “I thought you were different, but you’re just as bad as every other boy here.”

“I thought you were different too, but you’re here drinking champagne on my couch, so obviously you aren’t who I thought you were either.” He pauses, taking another sip of his champagne. He smirks up at me. “You’re exactly like me.”

My jaw drops. “Fuck you, Jungkook. I’m nothing like you.” 

As I walk away, I hear him faintly say, “Wait…” I ignore him and storm away. Hoping to find my friends, I climb up the flight of stairs angrily, when I bump into none other than Jimin. The perfect distraction. “Hey,” I coolly initiate. 

He smiles. “Hi.” 

“Soo…where were you heading?” I ask. A couple scooches past us to go down the stairs. 

“Oh, y’know. I was going to see where Jungkook was, but, I suppose that could wait.” 

I smile feeling satisfaction. He is exactly what I need. A distraction. 

We climb up the rest of the stairs together, and when we reach the main floor I spot a pool table. Adrianna and Carter, an attractive brown-haired boy, are playing, and I lead Jimin over. “Wanna play in teams?” I ask, and they agree. Adrianna eyes Jimin and mouths ‘nice.’ I mouth back ‘same to you.’ We all play for awhile, and I completely forget about the argument I had with Jungkook. Jimin’s hand is on my waist as he guides me on how to properly hit the ball. 

Soon, more people arrive at the table, and Jimin whispers in my ear, “Let’s get out of here.” I oblige, and he leads me to a gorgeous room. The walls are painted a beautiful black and the ceiling a light grey color. From the ceiling hangs a small black chandelier. A plush black carpet is placed on top of the dark wooden floor. The bed is pushed up against the wall, a white silk bedspread on top of it along with a few burgundy and black throw pillows. It is absolutely insane how beautiful the bedroom is. I take a guess that this must be Jungkook’s parents’ bedroom. And I do not give a shit that we were about to ruin it. Jimin pulls me onto the bed, and his lips brush against mine. We both sit there for a while, kissing slowly. 

As his kissing gets more intense, Jimin slowly begins to push me into a lying position on the bed, when suddenly the door bursts open. Thinking it is one of my friends or some drunk guy, I continue to kiss Jimin hoping the person will realize the room is clearly occupied and will leave. 

“What the actual fucking hell,” a voice hisses. Jimin pulls away, and we both sit up. Jungkook’s eyes are fixed on me. Jimin looks like he couldn’t give less of a shit. 

Jimin stands up, clearing his throat. “Sorry bro. I thought you wouldn’t mind me using your room. Clearly not,” he remarks. His voice indicates no empathy. No shame. I realize I should have known this was Jungkook’s room. Who else would want a completely black room? I bite my lip from laughing at Jimin’s comment. Jungkook deserves to be hurt. Without any more words being said, Jungkook forces a smile, indicating Jimin should leave. He figures and begins walking out the door when he questioningly looks back at me still sitting on the bed.

“I’ll be out in a few…” I say. He nods.

I wanted to oh-so-badly make a few witty remarks. Make him hurt more than he already is. The second Jimin leaves the room, Jungkook closes the door quietly and locks it. 

“Are you fucking serious? Jimin Park?” Jungkook exclaims.

“Just call it getting even,” I retort. His eyes are set ablaze by anger. His hand clenching into a fist. Although I don’t want to admit it, it’s hot. Hot as hell to see him getting angry. Getting jealous. 

“With Jimin? That’s some serious class you got there,” he replies. I stop smiling.

“Are you saying you have class? Because damn, that’s clearly shown when you fucked my best friend.” I stand up from his bed, and heels clicking on the wooden floor, I brush past him, but he grabs my wrist, holding it tightly. 

He steps closer until his body is right behind mine. “I am not like every other boy here,” he breathes into my ear, and I close my eyes, my mind begging to taste his lips. Leave him. Go find Jimin. Now. Leave him, leave him, leave him. Why am I not leaving?

“Jungkook…you’re drunk,” I whisper. We’re both drunk. Drunk on the idea of a possible romance. A possible rekindling of the fire we had almost once had. 

“Are you telling me you don’t like this?” His hand glazes up the side of my body. His finger playing with the black strap of my romper. He pulls away all contact, and I am left wanting more. I want to turn around and kiss him. But I am too prideful to give in. 

I don’t answer him. I hate him. God, he is the epitome of high confidence. Goddamn, why did he have to be so fucking attractive? I hate him so so so much. He is just like every other rich Californian boy. Just wanting to hook up and nothing more. Right? Right? Right?! Maybe it was because I drank too much champagne or the fact I just wanted to let go, but I shake my head no. No, I don’t like this. I love this. He is ruining me, and he loves it. And I love it too. It is the first night of summer. I want to be someone else. Not the person who is expected to study all the time. God, I need him. 

I turn to face him, and he has a smirk on his face. “You think you can break me, but you can’t.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he whispers lowly, looking down at my lips.  “Well, you can’t break me either.” Why do we both have to be so proud? Goddammit, I want him, but I won’t give in. I won’t give in. Maybe if I keep telling that to myself I wouldn’t give into his temptations. My heels click away from him, and I open the door. 

“Bye, Jungkook,” I wink at him. He looks pissed. Pissed as fuck. 

By this point I do not know where Jimin had gone off to. He probably had gone off with some other girl after witnessing the rising tension between Jungkook and I. It doesn’t matter though because Jungkook and I were the sealed fate for tonight. Whether he knew it or not, one of us would eventually give in. And that would be him. I check what time it is on my phone, and it is 12:17 AM. Some people are leaving, but c’mon, the party had only started 2 hours ago. 

Adrianna, Annie, and Naomi are lying back on a couch outside, their long, slender legs placed on top of the glass table. They look like they are the queens of the party. Annie and Naomi shift over to give me room in the middle. 

“Heard you hooked up with Jimin,” Naomi comments. 

“We just made out. Jungkook kind of interrupted us before anything could really happen.” I reply. Should I tell them about what happened after Jimin left? 

“And?” Naomi presses.

“I don’t know. Jimin left, so…yeah.” My mind wanders back to thinking about Jungkook’s touch. His cold fingers grazing up my arm. His breathing next to my ear driving me insane. Stop thinking about it. Annie studies me carefully. She understands me better than Naomi and Adrianna. She rarely spread rumors nor liked being in the center of attention.

“Let’s go get some drinks,” she finally says. “We’ll be back in a few,” she says to the girls. We stand up, heading inside. The air is cold inside making me shiver. 

“Please spill.”

I give her the general details, nothing…too graphic. 

“Ohmygod. Why are you not with him right now?!”

“Because…we’re in a competition,” I mumble sheepishly, realizing how stupid it is. We are seventeen year olds playing little kid games. 

“What…?” 

“We’retryingtoseehowlongwecanstayawayfromeachother,” I say really fast, embarrassed. 

“I swear to God. You are this close to getting with the hottest guy in the grade, and you’re…avoiding him? For a little competition? You’re literally crazy!” she exclaims incredulously. 

“Annnnnnnie, you don’t get it,” I insist. 

“All I’m hearing is that both of you are too damn proud to be the first one to admit you like each other.”

“I don’t like him.” But I do.

“You keep telling yourself that, but c’moooon. It is so obvious. Seriously, I’m telling you. Just go to him now, tell him you love him, and there’s your happily ever after.” 

“Fine, fine. I’ll text him.” 

“You better tell me everything tomorrow!” she squeals, and she walks back to Naomi and Adrianna.

I shake my head, smiling. I know exactly how to do it. A waiter passes by, and I quickly grab a cocktail. I take it to Jungkook’s room, and I down the sweet alcoholic drink within mere seconds. I would need it. Unlocking my phone, I text Jungkook: your room. 15 minutes. My fingers shake as I type each letter out. My heartbeat quickening. What if you’re too late just like last time? What if he’s with another girl already? What if you’re not good enough for him? What if, what if, what if? These questions run through my mind, and I become a growing time bomb. I stand up to dim the lights in his room to a point where he would be able to see me, but not super clearly. You should just leave. He doesn’t love you, I lie down on the silky bedspread, the cool fabric touching my almost bare back. Every second feels like a minute. Every minute feels like an hour. Why did it even matter to me if he comes or not? I could have any boy I want, right? I unlock my phone again to find he had still not read the text. It had been thirteen minutes. Two minutes pass, and he’s still not here. It doesn’t matter. I stand up beginning to leave, completely done with him. I’m done with him. That is the moment he finally walks in, closing the door behind him. He glides toward me until my body is pressed against the black wall, having no place to go, “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” I mutter, tilting my head down. His fingers tips my chin up. He is looking me directly in the eyes. 

“Clearly, you were wrong,” 

My breath stops for just a second. His lips inch towards mine and connect. They taste of mint and move against mine slowly. He seems…unsure. His hands grip my waist gently, and my hand cups his cheek. I want more. I pull away, and he looks surprised. “Kiss me like you fucking mean it. God, I thought you were good at this. Hmm, maybe I should go back to Jimin.” I egg him on, knowing he will get pissed. And he does. 

“Don’t say his name,” he mutters, and his lips reconnect with mine with more need. More hunger. This time I could feel the confidence. The cockiness. It is way different than Jimin’s kisses. Jimin was absolutely emotionless, but Jungkook…He has everything. Anger. Jealousy. Love. Lust. All of it is there. I am so lost in him. He slides his jacket off, and he roughly bites my lip, needing more. He does not care how rough he is. He needs me, and I need him. I notice the hints of alcohol as our tongues fight for dominance. Putting his hand on my ponytail, Jungkook takes the hairtie out. My hair cascades down, and he runs his fingers through my hair. I eventually win control. I push him away from the wall and lead our bodies towards the bed. Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away this time. He grabs me by the waist and pushes me onto the bed so I fall into a lying position. I let out a small yell, and he smiles devilishly. All the control I thought I had is gone. He pushes up against me, his clothed hips rolling down on mine. His face buries into my neck, and I let out a small moan. 

“I win,” he mumbles into my neck. I can feel him growing restless as he leaves soft kisses everywhere. His teeth work at gently tugging on the sensitive skin. I don’t care that I would go home with so many damn love bites on my neck. Jungkook is mine, and that is all that matters right now. He continues to leave bites everywhere, and no amount of makeup would be able to cover them. Moans continuously leave my lips, and God, I can feel him smiling. 

“I fucking hate you, Jungkook,” 

“I’m sure you do,” he breathes against my now sensitive skin. I let out a sigh of pleasure. He finally sits up to look down at me. He appears smug seeing all the bites he has left. Pure art. 

I sit up and climb onto his lap, my arms hooking around his neck. “Time for payback,” I press my lips against his softly. As our lips move together, I work to throw his tie off and unbutton his shirt. My hands roam down his chest to his abs to his thigh. I grip his clothed thigh knowing it would drive him absolutely crazy. He groans lowly. 

“Fuck,”

I scatter bites across his neck. The upper part of his chest. He is a mess. An absolute fucking mess. I can not believe I completely have him under my spell. He throws his head back moaning. 

It is as if there is no party going on outside the almost dark bedroom. It is just me and Jungkook. In that moment, we do not give a shit about what problems we have in our lives. We just need each other. 

♡~♡~♡

“I…I should go. My parents…” I groan against him. He plays with the strap of my romper. 

“Just a little bit longer?” he asks. With all the will I have remaining, I remove myself from him. I shake my head no, and he looks disappointed. I glance at his clock. 1:57 AM. How had more than an hour passed of us just making out? 

“So, when’s round two gonna be?” I whisper. I sit on the edge of his bed leaning over to put my heels back on. I would probably get someone who is still at the party to drive me home or something. 

“How about now?” he asks, putting his chin on my shoulder. I glance at him. He looks like an innocent puppy. I do not understand how he could change his personality so fast. 

“Jungkook…” I trail off. 

He begins to kiss my neck again. Fuck. 

“C’mon. You can deal with your parents later…” he whispers. I think about it as he continues to kiss over the hickies he had left earlier. Either way, leaving now or in the morning, my parents would kill me. I kick off my shoes as quickly as I had put them back on. 

He pushes me back down, and he smirks. “And just so you know…I won. I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he remarks, his lips so close to mine. 

He gives that irresistible smile and without me realizing it, he begins to slowly push the straps of my romper down. But I won’t say anything more. Because what happened in Beverly Hills stayed in Beverly Hills.

[laurelbelliveau]

@miamiintros​​

NAME/ALIAS: Elle or Autumn, I’m fine with either!

TIMEZONE: CST

RANDOM FACT: My favorite, favorite, favorite genre is comedy. I’m always perusing for a comedy show/stand-up that I haven’t watched. If you have any suggestions, always hit me up!

NUMBER OF CHARACTERS: This is my first of 2, with my second being my sweet boi Monte! ( @montesilva​ )

LAUREL BELLIVEAU

FACE CLAIM: Meghann Fahy AGE: 29 PROFESSION: Burlesque performer TRIGGER WARNINGS: Deportation TW, Drug Abuse TW, Foster Care TW

BACKGROUND 

Laurel was born to a French Canadian mother in New Orleans, Louisiana. Her mother was a con artist, often times including Laurel in her less intensive ventures (like pick-pocketing), but was deported for drug-related charges when Laurel was 8. Laurel then moved in with a massive foster family, going from instability to complete stability in a matter of days. To her delight, she also went from having no siblings to having at least 12 at any given time. She pursued the performing arts and fell in love, drawing particular inspiration from Duffy from Annie, who wanted to exchange her downtrodden life for one of fame and fortune (or at least comfy, independent living). 

The strawberry blonde continued to pursue theater and dance through middle and high school, moving to Miami after graduation to pursue a Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of Miami. However, because the cost was immense, Laurel eventually dropped out and pursued performing burlesque, performing as Indigo Wilde while working odd jobs all the while. Eleven years after becoming a Miami resident, she now leads a troupe of burlesque performers of all genders called the Trixies, hellbent on challenging the status quo when it comes to gender, sexuality, and everything in between.

HEADCANONS

Definitely inherited the effervescent vibe that made so many of her mom’s ploys a success, and can sometimes use that charm as a means to manipulate others into seeing things her way.

If her words don’t communicate her thoughts well enough, her very expressive body language and facial expressions will.

Kinda petty. If you tell her she can’t do something, she will not only do it but probably send you visual evidence of her having done the thing you said she couldn’t do.

Despite the times with her biological mother where means to make end’s meet were few and far between, she doesn’t necessarily fear hitting rock bottom. In fact, in the times where she’s been poorest, she’s been forced into concocting the best venture to keep the cash flow coming in. 

Has always made an honest living for herself, and will never have it any other way. Though she definitely doesn’t blame herself for being a child crook, and isn’t even ashamed of it per se (a little perspective goes a long way), she knows that she’s capable of so much more than following in her mother’s footsteps.

Speaking of her mother, Laurel has visited her in Quebec a few times since turning 18. Her mother has a new husband, a few kids, and a nice suburban lifestyle -- the things that Laurel wishes could have been provided for her. They aren’t close.

Her personal style puts a twist on classic pin-up style, if she isn’t mimicking it directly. She’s also always got a closet stocked to the brim with items for any occasion. If you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready.

Laurel is always wearing something red whether it’s red nail polish, red lipstick, or an article of red clothing.

Absolutely loves music by historic women in rock like Janis Joplin, Lena Horne, Aretha Franklin, Tina Turner, Stevie Nicks, Joan Jett, Debbie Harry, Cyndi Lauper, Heart, and the Go-Gos. Almost exclusively listens to iconic female artists like those aforementioned.

If I had to pick one (1) song to encompass her, it would be Bette Davis Eyes by Kim Carnes. (Or, more accurately, she would die of happiness if anyone even remotely related that song to her because the aesthetic of it all is on point.)

WANTED CONNECTIONS 

Fellow burlesque performers, especially members of The Trixies

People who befriended her upon her arrival to Miami

Maybe former classmates (before she dropped out)?

Anything romantic -- Lord knows she’s made a wide variety of those connections during her tenure

FOSTER SIBLINGS, I’d weep!

Anything! I’m always up for whatever <3

I’ll get a real WC connection page put together soon! I’m also super into discovering character chemistry through interactions so don’t be afraid to say there’s nothing for us to start with!

[zuckerplum]

I want to ask all the soft asks except for October, Sunset, and Cuddles! If I can't ask all of them, then I'll take Freckles, Clouds, Paper, Sheets, and Roses. Please and thank you.

I’m gonna toss this under a read-more because probably no one besides you wants to see this, anon x3

cherry - what is your sexuality?

ehh, i go back and forth on this often, but I think I’m biromantic, but asexual.

lollipop - favorite makeup products?

i don’t really use any make up, honestly. i very occasionally play around with lipstick, but i think it makes my mouth look super small, and i don’t have the discipline to remove make up at the end of a day or event!

daydreams - if you could be anything or anyone, who would you be?

legit, my answer’s the same as when i was like 7, i would be a dog in a heartbeat. especially my boss’ dogs, they’re so spoiled and loved!

caress - do you like to snuggle?

i super do, but i can have a lotta problems actually like, knowing when i want to until i am sitting in my room realizing all i wanna do is cuddle someone and watch a movie.

ivory - describe your pajamas?

i wear pretty much whatever i wore that day minus pants, but i do have a beauty and the beast nightshirt and a fleecy pair of pants with olaf from frozen on them.

golden - favorite stationary product?

i got these extremely cute pens from wish, and they have little cat heads and tails on the caps! they’re very nice to write with!

freckles - most-worn article of clothing?

i have a really boring blue hoodie that a wear a lot. i imagine that’ll change as the summer smashes into us, but!

twilight - best friend?

this is honestly really hard because i only talk to a few people anymore, and i’d be hard pressed not to call them all my best friends. (so that’s kristy, phillip, andy…)

silk - do you like k-pop?

i really, really wanna get into kpop, but unlike when i was a raging weeaboo, i no longer have any idea where to start!

poppy - favorite pastel color?

a pastel kind of laffy-taffy banana yellow! somewhere around FDFD97?

dimples - most attractive features of a person’s face?

is it super sappy and predictable if i say smile? cheeks, eyes…

sunkissed - autumn or spring?

autumn, 100%

buttery - favorite snack?

pizza rolls boyyyye

whisper - how much sleep do you get?

legit anywhere from 3 hours to like 16 depending on if i have work and if i’m likely to get a migraine from it.

pencil - do you own a journal?

i don’t, i never know what to journal about. i do have a venting-ish blog though, although i don’t link to it anywhere.

cupcake - are you a good cook?

i’m a better baker than i am a cook, but i make a mean tuna melt!

honey - favorite term of endearment?

darling, for sure. babe is also real good, and i use both on my friends.

clouds - describe one of your favorite dreams?

i have such a poor memory, i don’t remember any, assuming you mean sleeping dreams.

velvet - who was your first crush?

i fall in love with like all of my friends, but the first crush that was on anyone worthwhile was my best friend kristy, which probs started in middle school, haha.

paper - favorite children’s book?

where the red fern grows by wilson rawls. it makes me cry every time.

peaches - do you have a skincare routine?

no, if i die i die.

mochi - favorite studio ghibli film?

howl’s moving castle, although i also enjoy the original book! (and i actually enjoy the sequel book even more!)

backyard - did you ever have an imaginary friend?

more than having an imaginary friend, i had imaginary dogs. they’d do things like help pull the cart in the store, or run alongside the car when we were going somewhere!

strawberry - favorite fruit?

hm, a well-ripened kiwi is really hard to beat!

kiss - have you ever kissed a friend?,

i don’t think so, not one i wasn’t dating.

nightlight - do you read before bed?

sometimes, but it’s usually fanfiction if i do.

shampoo - favorite scent?

musk stuff, usually. peppermint, too~

skin - what distant relative are you closest to?

absolutely none of them.

aphrodite - favorite actress/actor?

THIS IS SO HARD?? like, i guess maybe andrew scott or anne hathaway? i am madly in love with anne hathaway, but i still adore andrew scott.

lace - if you own any dresses, which is your favorite?

i’m sure i own some, but i don’t remember them, whoops.

sheets - sanrio or san-x characters?

i think i have to pick sanrio because i love aggretsuko so much.

cream - frozen yogurt flavor?

i don’t think i’ve ever knowingly had froyo?

watermelon - do films ever make you cry?

all the damn time. romcom? check. dog movie? check. children’s movie where the good guys win even though you knew they were gonna? check. shazam? check.

sapphos - favorite poet?

i am very, very bad at reading poetry, unfortunately i don’t think i have one.

plush - how many stuffed animals do you still own?

still own? well over a dozen, i’d guess, never mind the ones i buy nowadays!

roses - what flower do you find most beautiful?

i think carnations are gorgeous, they look so soft.

sweetheart - favorite mug/cup?

i have a few! i have a mug from stranger things with bob newby on it (played by sean astin) that says ‘easy peasy’, a small, somewhat metal-feeling cup with the original comic art for annie and sandy, and she’s saying leapin’ lizards. my other favourite off the top of my head is one i stumbled on at target that was, i think, for valentine’s day. it says mr. fantastic on it!

[mygiantesslove]

Are you still alive?

2. A real party with friends

A few more days passed by like if nothing happened. Annie worked at the coffee shop, always a bit daydreaming here and there but mostly doing well considering nobody around her knew about her being a shrinker. She enjoyed her work it was not too far from her apartment, and everyone would tip well. One day, After her shift, she walked home and got into the apartment lobby. Right there was Marilyn looking at her mailbox and both girls exchanged salutations.

“Hey Annie, how you doing?”

“Oh, I’m good! Tough day at work, but I can’t complain!” said Annie smiling and looking at Marilyn head to toe. She was wearing a blouse and cardigan vest, with a black skirt and black nylons. She wore some high heeled black leather ankle boots with a zipper on the outside.

“Yeah, you’re living large now, must be nice to be free for a girl like you.” Said Marilyn, as she closed her mailbox and pushed the elevator button.

Annie stuttered a bit and bit her lower lip. “Yeah, it’s nice.” She said. The elevator doors opened and they both walked in, the door closed and the elevator started slowly going up.

“How long can you be inside someone’s shoe before starting to panic and all?” said Marilyn out of the blue, curious, but also trying to have small talk and prevent the silence.

“Huh..?” Annie was surprised. “Oh... well, my sisters kept me shrunk for whole weeks in their shoes when I was younger...I used to panic more before, but now I’m kinda used to it so, I try to just....you know...enjoy my time.”

“Wow, this is fucked up you know.” Said Marilyn with a scoff.

“Yeah” Annie smiled... “yeah I know...”

There was a silence.

“I got lots of shoes you know.” Said Marilyn.

“You do?” asked Annie, a bit curious but also a bit shy. Marilyn really was a nice person and she really wanted to get to know her but she didn’t know how.

“Yeah...” was only what Marilyn said. “oh, by the way, I’m hosting a small party tonight with some friends if you want you can come to say hello and have a drink with us.”

“A party?” Annie paused. “Wow, I’ve never been invited to a party before.”

“Heh, you’re funny...” said Marilyn. The elevator came to a stop and doors opened. Annie was just looking down at Marilyn’s ankle boots. “This is your floor, Annie.”

“Oh!” Annie got out of her daydream. “right. Thanks...” she walked out of the elevator while Marilyn was already pressing the close doors button to go up one more floor.

“8 Pm?” said Marilyn while the doors were closing.

“Sure....!B...bye Marilyn,” Annie said. Marilyn smiled and the doors closed completely. It was over. Annie went to her apartment and locked herself inside, full of emotions, happy to have spent a few minutes with Marilyn and to have been invited to a party.

Time went slow, Annie took a shower, she dressed, undressed, retired, did not know what to wear. It took her several tries to finally be satisfied with her ponytail. She put on some mascara, a bit of makeup, eyeliner. She looked at herself in the mirror and thought she looked pathetic. She felt like crying but she held it. The finishing touch was her purple jewel necklace, she carefully wore around her neck. Despite its power, it was a nice beautiful necklace to wear. At 7h59 PM she was standing at Marilyn’s loft apartment door and she waited until it was 8h00 to finally muster the courage to knock. She heard laughs inside and someone walking to the door. Marilyn opened it and Annie’s jaw dropped. The woman was stunning in her black dress and black nylons. She wore nice black classic high heel pumps with a 3 inches tall spike heel. She had the most incredibly deep red lipstick. She was holding a glass of wine and her cigarette in the same hand.

“Hey Annie, come in!” said Marilyn, closing the door behind the 20 years old girl. They walked into the big Loft room. There were a few people there and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. Marilyn went on with the presentations.

“Everyone, this is Annie, my new neighbor from below, she’s just moved in earlier this month. Annie, this is Amanda, Fanny, David, Josh, and Kate.” They all said hi, Annie gave them all a shy smile, almost instantly forgetting who was who and what were their names. Marilyn offered Annie a glass of wine and people starting talking a bit among themselves, leaving Marilyn and Annie together near the kitchen counter.

“You look cute Annie.” Said Marilyn. “I see you brought the jewel...” Marilyn careful took the jewel in her hand and admired it.

“Yes, I think it looks great with this dress.”

“And it does.” Said Marilyn. Marilyn and Annie raised their glasses of wine. “Cheers!” they both took a sip and smiled at each other. They then mingled with the others and talked about everything and nothing. The people were interested in Annie’s job, where she was from, and all, but Annie always tried to answer evasively and ask questions to Marilyn’s friends. Those people really enjoyed talking and laughing and making jokes and Annie felt very privileged to be among wonderful people who did not judge her.

Annie learned that David and Josh were a gay couple, that Amanda was a lawyer working with Marilyn, Fanny was an actuary and Kate a hair stylist. They all were great people.

At some point, Fanny saw Annie’s necklace. “Wow, Annie, you’ve got quite a beautiful necklace there, can I see it?”

“Sure,” said Annie, already halfway her second glass of wine.

“Is it an amethyst?” asked Fanny while holding the jewel and inspecting it with fascination.

“Be careful about that necklace!” said Marilyn from the other end of the room.

“What’s so special about it?” asked David.

“Oh nothing, it’s from my mother.” Said Annie, a bit shy, taking back her jewel and holding it close to herself. Annie’s heartbeat went up a notch. She glanced at Fanny’s high heels and then looked over across the room at Marilyn who was walking back to the group.

“Come on Annie, don’t be shy to tell everyone what you are.” Said Marilyn, getting close to Annie and putting a hand on her shoulder. Annie’s heart stopped beating for a moment. Everything was going so well, why did Marilyn have to bring that up!?

“Hmm, I....”

“Annie is a shrinker.” Said Marilyn. There was a weird silence and Annie’s heart twisted as she saw a few heads doubletake at her. Annie looked at Marilyn with disbelief and then notices Marilyn was under the effects of alcohol.

“Are you serious?” asked Josh.

“Wow.” Said Amanda.

“Yep! She’s free though, she lives like a normal human now.” Added Marilyn. She shuffled Annie’s hair with her hand, messing the ponytail Annie took so long to tie up. Annie felt humiliated and didn’t see that coming. “She’s my new tiny little friend!”

“You know what, that’s good!” stated Josh. “Hell, shrinkers are treated so badly. This is so wrong!” he said. “Good for you Annie... way to go, I drink to that.” He raised his glass and everyone cheered, except Kate who was more like, half-cheering. Annie felt like all the tension was now gone, that the people around her were understanding people, and they accepted her despite her being a shrinker.

“Yeah thanks, guys, I huh. I appreciate your support.” Said Annie, feeling relieved. Marilyn beside her asked the girl to stand up, Annie did. Marilyn pulled Annie into a hug.

“Don’t be shy with us, Annie. We’re all different in this world. See, David and Josh are gay, and back a few years they had to fight for their rights to be recognized, look how much they’re happy today!”

“Yeah except, it’s hard for shrinkers to fight when you’re always under people’s feet.” Said Annie, her stress being released a bit.

“Oh right...” said David. “That sucks.”

A conversation started on the subject, Marilyn’s friends all wanted to know everything about Annie, about shrinkers and how it felt, how cruelly they were treated, etc. Kate wasn’t talking much tho, Annie couldn’t help but notice Kate being somewhat uncomfortable. All in all the party went well, and Annie felt great.

People started to feel tired and slowly left. The gay couple left first, then, Kate, who was visibly uncomfortable. Then fanny and Amanda left too, leaving only Marilyn and Annie. Marilyn poured some wine in Annie’s glass and in her own. They both sat int he living room and talked some more.

“Say, your friend Kate, she didn’t talk much.” Said Annie.

“Well, you see, she had a shrinker in her boot. She told me when I walked her to the door. She felt bad because of this, she didn’t want to look like a cruel person, but she had a squirming tiny shrinker under her foot all night long... haha can you believe it..” Marilyn sipped some more wine.

“Yeah, I can see why she felt that way.” Answered Annie. “Who was it she had in there?”

“Her nephew. She told me she's babysitting him for the week while her sister is out of town”

“Oh... okay.” Said Annie, feeling a bit out of place.

“So how did you like being in my ballet shoe the other day? We didn’t get a chance to talk about it.” Asked Marilyn.

“Oh. Hmmm, You’re a very talented dancer. I could feel when you were spinning on me. I liked that. But I had a broken rib and my legs were hurting” Said Annie, the wine clearly easing her talking about things.

“Oh...sorry about that. At some point, I just forgot you were there.” Said Marilyn.

“Yes, that can happen...no worries.” Said Annie. “I’ve been forgotten in shoes quite often.” They both finished their wine.

“Thanks for the party, Marilyn. I had a good time.” Said Annie, getting ready to leave. They walked to the door and Marilyn removed both of her shoes and offered them to Annie, she was a bit drunk, but not too much.

“How about you sleep with these in your bed tonight, like on your pillow?” said Marilyn with a corner smile. “Plenty of my foot sweat to breathe in for you in there.”

Annie considered and then smiled genuinely at Marilyn. “Thank you. I will.” Annie left the apartment and went down to hers. She was grateful to have found a good friend after all those years of being abused by her family. She brushed her teeth and went to bed, with Marilyn’s high heeled pumps on her pillow.

[dannineedsfriends]

A Favour - Parrlyn Part 1

About a week into the second half-term of the year was exponentially and quintessentially annoying. Cathy was cold, irritable and tired and being too paranoid to delay school for coffee, she was grouchy. Constantly. Yet the uncaffeinated version of herself was outwardly positive and inwardly demonic, which is extremely detrimental in the long run, when people ask you to do their homework for them.

  She found it hard to say no to people in the first place, and now that the internal demon had latched itself, like a leech, to her soul, she was most definitely going to pretend to be very enthusiastic and happy, when she's digging herself into a sad hole to the underworld. So when Anne Boleyn came sliding into the seat across from her, she was preparing herself for total anarchy. 

  "Before you say a word, yes. I'll do it." Cathy sighs, knowing the exact words that were about to erupt from the girl's mouth. 

  "Okay good. So if you're into pussy, I need a desperate favour from you for like 3 months." Anne's face has lit up with relief, and she leans eagerly forward onto the table, not at all detecting the realisation of 'fuck' plastered across Catherine's face.

  "Hey- no- no no no -" she defends. "I never said that-"

  "No take-backs! You're helping me now." She smiles sweetly, and the tone leaks into her voice. Boleyn has a high reputation for never needing anything from anyone, taking no bullshit, and being extremely defiant. What would she possibly want from Parr? 

  "You do realised that you definitely tricked me, right?" 

  "I know exactly what I'm doing now shush, smarty pants! So - I need you to pretend to date me for maybe half a year--"

  "You just said thre-"

  "You have no right to interrupt me." She brushes her comment aside. "Because I may or may not have bragged about the fact I was seeing a really beautiful girl, who's super smart, for ages and now people want to actually know who she is."

  Anne leans over to over Cathy's hands with her own, grabbing her fingers and squeezing them. "This is a thing now. And you can't stop it." 

  The smile the girl gave her as she bounced away was unnerving. What the fuck just happened? From what she could understand in such a short time, she was no longer single. For six months. But not really not single because it was fake? She sighs and scribbles out her plans for the weekend, written on her hand. 

  Cathy wasn't exactly sure how she was even supposed to contact Anne, considering that they had never had a conversation, let alone any form of contact outside of the school ground. She realised that she was watching Anne walk away when she noticed her turn around, as if realizing the same thing before trudging back, throwing her bag on the chair and raking through it, before taking out a small piece of paper and slamming it down in front of her. 

  "Now I can leave." 

--

  Every time she saw Anne from that point on, her life was a living nightmare. Catherine didn't even like talking to friends - let alone a random girl from school claiming to be her girlfriend, when she was straight. 

  Cathy always enjoys coffee alone on a Saturday morning, before going to the library to continually revise or return some-book-or-other. She sat on the table, the one near the window, farthest from the door. She has her coffee black, with one sugar: she had often been told that someone's coffee order reflects a person and considering hers was pretty bitter, she assumes it's of relative accuracy. 

  She runs a hand through knotted curls, left down for once and they parade down her shoulders, concealing her face more than she cared for as she stared out the window at nothing in particular. Or at least nothing until a figure dressed in all black crossed over the road and threw their hood down, waving vigorously to her attention. Anne. 

  Cathy groans and turns away from the window. Now? Really? There were somethings in life that happen at the wrong time, and this was one of them, she decides. Her hands clench the warmth of the coffee cup, eyes squeezed shut and hoping that the prosecutor of her doom would spring through the door and bother her. Someone, somewhere was trying to severely mess up her day.

  Quiet webs of mumbling embrace the room and bring comfort to Cathy, who is still trying to  indoctrinated herself into believing that Anne wasn't going to walk in and sit down in front of her. 

  "Why do you have your eyes closed?" a confused voice calls abruptly from across from her. She opens her eyes to see the black-lathered figure that was Anne Boleyn. Gremlin energy at its finest. 

  "No reason. I was meditating, it has a very calm atmosphere in here." Catherine nods slowly, taking a slow sip from her cup, inhaling loudly to exemplify her tranquility. She wasn't exactly lying to her, either. Sometimes she did meditate here, briefly and uncomfortably, but the smell of the shop gave her a sense of safety and wellbeing. 

  She catches Anne looking her over with slightly squinted eyes and for once, she doesn't look like she's about to rip Cathy's outfit to shreds. The girl stands up, putting her bag in the seat. 

  "Wait here a minute? I just want to get a drink." 

  She nods and Anne walks to join a cue, coming back about five minutes later, smiling gratefully, as if she was expecting Cathy to get up and leave before she got back. 

  "What'd you get?" She questions curiously, placing her cup down on the table to look into hers. 

  "Fruity tea! You wanna try some?" She pushes the cup across the table. 

  "Are you sure? What if I have herpes?"

  "Do you?" Anne cocks an eyebrow. 

"No…?" 

"Then take a drink!" 

  Cathy watches her for confirmation before taking a sip, eyebrows furrowing as she tastes it. "I don't know if I like it. Nah. You keep that shit."

  She gently pushes the cup back across the table and gets her own drink to get the taste out of her mouth. 

  "Says the one drinking black coffee. Like some sort of demon-" 

  "I'm not a demon! Milk makes coffee disgusting and it gives me energy. Shush yourself."

  "Uh-huh, uh-huh. Suit yourself, Cathy." Anne smirks, finger tracing the rim of the plastic lid. 

  "I can hear the sarcasm in your tone, and don't give me those eyes, Annie." She counters, running a hand through her hair again, feeling the corners of her lips curling into a smile. 

  Anne grins through gritted teeth. "What a lovely nickname."

  "I know you love it, Annie." She sings, tilting her head to one side as if to antagonize her that slight bit more, and to her surprise, Anne starts laughing. 

  This seemingly immortal, and extremely annoying, being was laughing. It's bubbly and as her smile grows wider, she throws her head back for brief seconds before her eyes find Cathy's. Why was she laughing so much? 

  Anne sips at her tea, the smile lasting way longer as she watches Cathy. "I'm super hungry right now. How would you feel about going and getting some food with me, after we've finished here?" 

--

  After Anne had offered to walk her home, Cathy began to feel more appreciative of being stuck with the girl for so long. If she was this nice all the time, then it was practically a dream come true, if she was completely honest. Though she still had her moments of being annoying, they became more and more playfully annoying, less maliciously annoying, as before. 

  "So…" Anne drawls, walking close to her. "Are you free later on this evening? Late on tonight-ish."

  "Is it a girlfriend thing?" She asks slowly, contemplating her words carefully, and Anne nods in response. "What do I even need to do..?"

  She shrugs. "Give me a nickname. I don't care wha--"

  "Annie."

  "Okay." She hesitates, forgetting her words and not wanting to say something completely unorthodox. "Maybe hold my hand? Whatever comes naturally?"

  Cathy nods slowly, their shoulders brushing against each other as they walked down the streets. It was still mid-morning, and it was relatively quiet outside, the only other sounds being passing cars and the squawking of unseen birds, the rest of the space filled with their voices. 

  "Am I supposed to wear anything nice..-? I don't have any party-suitable outfit, to my recollection."

  "Who on Earth uses the word recollection in a normal conversation? I swear you speak like you're constantly writing an essay." Anne rambles, shaking her head and brushing hair behind her ears and looking over at Cathy. "But honestly anything's fine. Wear jeans and a shirt, and that's about it. We can ditch the shirt on the way home, if you get me."

   It takes a moment for the comment to register before Cathy realises and playfully smacks her arm. "We are keeping our clothes on, thank you very much."

 ��"Ohhhh, so you're that type, huh?" 

  "Anne Boleyn, I swear to God-" Anne snickers at her anger. 

  "But yeah! Honestly anything's fine. Come what you're in now- you look pretty."

  Cathy scoffs and stops in front of her house, shaking her head to Anne. "Thank you for walking me home, but you really didn't have to."

  The other girl just smiles at her as if to say: you know I did. She's still thankful nonetheless and gives a small wave as she opens her door, turning around one last time to blow her a cheeky kiss, before closing the door behind her. 

--

  Cathy walked to the address of said party, waiting for Anne outside, where she had been messaged to meet her, hugging her cardigan around herself and looking both ways down the street again, eyes raking through the darkness and finally the vivid sound of sandals hitting the pavement sounds behind her. She turns and sees the one and only Anne Boleyn tearing down the street in dungaree-shorts and sandals, which she inferred to be the worst possible decision of clothing in the middle of November.  

  The girl steams to a halt in front of her, breathing wildly with the biggest grin on her face, red lipstick coating her lips and apparently part of her chin. Cathy steps forward to her, taking her face in one hand and using her thumb to wipe away the straying lipstick. 

  "You scruff. What am I, your mother?"

  Anne grins into her hands, wrapping her arm over her neck and kissing her jaw softly, moving to whisper in her ear. "They're watching us through the gap in the curtain. They think we don't know they're there."

  Cathy shakes her head softly and pulls away from her. "Can you lead in? I've never been to a party and I'm nervous."

  Anne makes a comment about her being nervous at everything but leads anyway, knocking briefly before letting herself in. 

  "THE GREMLIN'S ARRIVED." Cleves shouts from the couch, Kitty next to her grinning and turning to look at  the two girls stood in front of the door. 

  "Who's the random girl-thing-?" Kitty asks ambiguously, referencing to Parr and pointing a single finger, lazily. 

  Aragon, at the statement of her friend pops her head around the door frame to catch a glance at the two unsuspecting lovers. "Are you kidding me? She's real?"

  "Duh she's real. Why else would I say she existed?" Anne narrows her eyes to slits and shakes her head, taking Cathy's hand and leading her in to the rest of the girls, all lounging around. 

  Practically as soon as they sit down, the blonde girl, who Parr finds out is referred to as 'Jane', 'Seymour' or even 'Mother Seymour', moves away to sit on the floor and then she watches the four girls form a semicircle around Anne and herself, and she clenches her hand. 

  "What're they doing..-?" Cathy whispers softly into Anne's ear, and she earns a shrug in response, unsure herself. 

  "I'm Catherine..?" She says louder, and her voice ceasing to shake, to the credit of her emotional stability. 

  "So then Catherine. When exactly did you and our dearest Anne Boleyn here meet?" Cleeves presses, a wicked smile spreading across her lips.

  Her eyes widen and she shifts slightly. "Ah- gosh. We- uh. We met in school. She wasn't in any of my lessons- but she caught my eye because she was so beautiful and- and we got talking." she nods, certain and looking over at Anne with an affectionate smile. 

  Kitty's the one that presses it even further. "Out of curiosity, how in this entire galaxy did you choose to fall in love with Anne Boleyn?? When did it happen?"

  She wipes the look of surprise off of her face and lets out a shallow breath. "If I'm honest, it wasn't a choice. It was something that just happened all of a sudden and I don't exactly know how- but the moment I think I decided that I had fallen for her was when she decided to walk me home from getting coffee, on our first date. It wasn't planned either, she just showed up and sat down and shoved tea down my throat..- and then all of a sudden she was walking me home and I wanted her to stay so badly."

  Anne's staring at her from the seat beside her, a stupid grin teasing her lips and she purses them to hide it, hands interlocking at the base of her own neck. Cathy ignores the look of her, scared of the reaction she's getting from her, and her gut begins to drop when she realises that she meant every single one of her words. 

  "And how long did it take for her to bed you, hm?" 

  "Well… she hasn't yet… She desperately wanted to, but I wanted our first time to be special and not hiding from the kids in the school bathrooms." Cathy shoots her a glance and Anne's jaw has dropped to the floor, and a surprise looks across her face as if to say: how did she know?

  Aragon grins, interjecting to the conversation. "Since we're getting into these juicy kind of details, does Anne have any weird kinks that she's told you about?"

  Catherine crosses and uncrosses her legs anxiously. "Uh.. to the discretion of Anne, I won't reveal that answer."

  "conFIRMED: ANNE BOLEYN HAS A PISS KINK" Cleves stands up and yells, followed by Anne herself shortly after. 

  "Okay! That's enough. Leave her alone." She announces loudly, turning back to her with an apologetic look. 

  "She didn't deny it..-" Anna mumbles, dipping her chin and turning to the other girls. 

  Anne sits back down, closer to Cathy then before, putting her chin on her shoulder as the room breaks put into general conversation. "Thank you, for that." She whispers, smiling at the lipstick mark against her jaw, deciding not to tell her because it made her beauty more authentic. 

  Cathy turns to her, shrugging the shoulder that Anne wasn't leant on. "I do try, y'know. And that's now fifty quid, please. Pay up, gremlin." 

  "I'm not paying you shit until I get my money's worth, thank you very much. And I'm paying you in kisses because I'm poverty." Anne grins, hand raising to push a curl behind Cathy's ear, and to her bewilderment, she doesn't object to it. In fact, she leaves her hand there, resting against her head and she watches as the girl gently closes her eyes and leans into the touch. "That's gay."

  With that, she gets up from leaning into Anne's hand, shifting to look towards her more. "You are literally a lesbian, what do you want from me?"

  "She wants pussy!" A perfectly timed comment from another conversation makes Parr grin and purse her lips to stifle a laugh. 

  "I mean- she's not wrong." Anne admits. "I'm either horny or sad, constantly and at this point I can't tell the difference between the two." 

  "Wow. You should probably get a girlfriend sometime soon." She shrugs, watching her lips and the velvet-red colour that covers them. 

  "Mhm." Anne hums, tilting her head as her eyes wash over Catherine. "Hopefully, soon, yeah."

  She drags her eyes away from the scarlet lipstick, and back to around the room, scanning each person carefully. "Since when was this a 'party'?" 

  "Well… this is our version of a party. We usually don't drink or anything, because we look to have a combined age of six years." Catherine can't help but glance down at Anne's bra, which she could clearly see through her shirt. 

  "Uh-huh. Yeah-" she nods and looks her in the eyes again, and looking away. 

  "Did you just-"

  "Yeah."

  "Well then." Anne shifts, throwing her hair over her shoulder. 

  "You don't look six." Cathy feels the need to clarify. "If you were six, I would be seeking serious and intensive therapy about my sexual tendencies."

  "Did you just-"

  "Yeah. Don't mention it." She shakes her head, looking away, but Anne insists on scooting closer, and putting her hand on her knee, smiling comfortingly. "You're so cold- I can feel your hand through my trousers." 

  Cathy shakes her head, disappointed and sighing at how idiotic Anne is. 

  "What gave you the genius idea to wear shorts and sandals in November?" She grumbles, taking her cardigan off and draping it over Anne. 

  "I like being cripplingly cold so that when I get into bed, I don't want to get out because the only warmth is bed." 

  "I hope you know that that's fucked up, right?" 

  Anne shrugs, putting her arms through the sleeves and wrapping it around herself, shuffling to lay into Cathy, sighing softly. "I'm sorry." 

  It comes naturally to turn and press her lips to the apex of Anne's head, leaving them there for a few seconds before her arm reaches around her, shushing her gently. 

  She sighs into her hair, breathing her in. Anne smells nice, she decides, though she's not exactly sure what of. Cathy can picture nights in with the girl nestled in her arm, cuddled up watching movies until they pass out, gripping onto each other, and then she turns away from her, looking around the room. These girls are the reason this is happening: why Anne Boleyn was tolerating her, loving her, to a degree. It was fake, she reminded herself coldly. All of it. 

  Anne Boleyn was only being nice to her because she got herself into a mess. After all, who could possibly love Catherine Parr for who she really is? 

[kurtwarren54]

Sephora Sale Purchases 2021

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Quick post to share what I bought from the Sephora Sale that is going on. I always restock on things I need since the discount is good! Happy Shopping friends!! The discounts are if you are part of their rewards program and code: OMGSPRING

living proof Perfect hair Day (PhD) Dry Shampoo: This stuff SMELLS AMAZING and works great. I live on dry shampoo now since I try to wash and do my hair only once a week. The dry shampoo helps me extend my style.

summer fridays CC Me Vitamin C Serum: I actually just refilled this recently but if I had been low, I would have bought it now. I use this stuff everyday and love that it’s pregnancy safe. (Ask your dr what products are pregnancy safe I am not a dr!) It smells amazing too.I am a big fan of their whole product line. Also been using their Cloud Dew Oil-free Gel Cream Moisterizer frequently for a deeper more intense moisturizer but I just got a new container so I didn’t purchase yet.

saie Slip Tint Dewy Tinted Moisturizer SPF 35 Sunscreen: This is a great clean beauty buy that gives really nice sheer coverage with spf. I use it when I don’t want a makeup face but want to just even things out and wear some spf.

Tarte Amazonian Clay BB Tinted Moisturizer Broad Spectrum SPF 20 Sunscreen: This stuff is GOLD. I mix in a few drops of face oil to this to sheer it out and it’s my go to face makeup. The coverage is great.

Tarte Tartelette

In Bloom Clay Eyeshadow Palette: This is one of my everyday eye palettes. Such good neutrals. I can NOT live without it. I go through them often. I don’t need a new one at the moment but if I was running low I would def add this to my purchase.

Becca Shimmering Skin Perfector® Pressed Highlighter: This is my go to highlighter and I am hitting the bottom of my current pan so I needed a refresh on this one. I use it to add highlights to my cheekbones, nose bridge, cupids bow, under my eye brows and the corners of my eyes.

Lawless The Baby One Mini Eyeshadow Palette: I have been dying to try out Annie’s epic product line and was waiting for a sale to try this eyeshadow palette. Excited to see what the hype is about.

Drybar Detox Dry Shampoo: Another staple dry shampoo. I love to have a few on hand and change things up so my hair doesn’t just get used to one thing.

Necessaire The Body Wash – With Niacinamide: This is a new product I see ALL over the internet and feel like it could make my shower experience a little more spa like. Excited to see what the hype is about. Will report back. I got the sandalwood scent.

Charlotte Tilbury Mini Airbrush Flawless Finish Setting Powder: Another new product I wanted to try out. Love that it’s a setting powder in a compact so a little less messy than loose powder.

Silk Mega Value Slipsilk

Scrunchie Set: I am obsessed with these silk scrunchies. I wear them so I don’t make creases in my hair after I blow dry. I have all the skinny ones but wanted to try the bigger ones also. Great value for this set since they are pricey.

Ouai Wave Spray: Im running low on this and it’s lasted me forever which I love. I use this to spray on my wet curly hair when I want to air dry it curly. It’s EPIC and smells amazing.

Charlotte Tillbury Mini Pillow Talk Lipstick & Liner Set: I have been wanting to try the pillow talk color forever and legit always forget to order it. Trying it this time! Got the mini set so I don’t have to commit to full size.

Ouai Heat Protection Spray: This stuff is a MUST have. I am almost out and would cry if I didn’t have it. I use it when my hair is dry and I want to heat style it. I swear it helps hold the style longer and it also smells incredible.

The post Sephora Sale Purchases 2021 appeared first on eat.sleep.wear. - Fashion & Lifestyle Blog by Kimberly Lapides.

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[ratqueenofficial]

tagged by the great and powerful ray @two-chi for end of the year tag

relationship status: ahahhaahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH s i n g l e

favorite color: golden sunflower yellow!!!!

lipstick or chapstick: i used to like lots of lipstick colors but i’ve been using chapstick more often but generally i just wear neither

three favorite foods: boba with taro qq, mango with tajín, annie’s macaroni and cheese + bonus tamales bc i’m Hongry

last song you listened to: ohhhh jesus jfdjjfjd it was truffle butter by nicki minaj jfjsjfjsjdjajfjs

last movie I saw: yikes idk??? it’s been a while,,, i’m gonna go see the last jedi soon if that counts

top 3 shows: rick and morty (i know. shut up), the office, bob’s burgers

top 3 bands: i’m kinda into this band called gorillaz idk if anyone’s heard of it tho ://// also vampire weekend and phoenix

book I’m currently reading: bitch!!! i’m an english major!!! i don’t read!!!! the fuck!!!! (i don’t tend 2 read recently but i love a good zombie novel or anything shakespeare)

i’m tagging @grimdarkmatt and @loboluchia and @ephemeralprince and @funeralshawls!!!! also @marxistically and @jayragon and @theonceandfuturekings hi veronica