#carat cake?! excuse me?!

[wabisaba]

guess who continues to enjoy nct dream's cbs despite herself

[vitaminwaterreviews]

NCT Dream - Dream()scape

I definitely have mixed feelings about this album, and mostly that’s because I have mixed feelings about that echoey synth r&b type sound. It was all over Cosmic, it was in Rosie a bit, it’s in here, Twice have been doing it lately, it’s very trendy. I’m not really sure how to describe it, but like, the sound of this album is popular lately, particularly among SM artists. aespa haven’t really done it yet, which I appreciate, because I’m just not really a fan of this sound. It makes me a bit uncomfortable in a way that I can’t really describe. I think it’s because it makes me feel really sad, but not in a good way.

You would not get that from my song ratings. Let’s see: average of 8.2, quite good. I usually reserve 10’s for songs that either make me laugh or give me goosebumps. I got goosebumps from the last song, but it wasn’t quite enough for me to give a 10. Still, 9’s are very good songs, and a third of this album was 9’s. When you put it like that, it makes it sound like a very good album indeed.

Let’s talk about the songs. Overall, it was not a vibe I was expecting: actually, a lot of this album gave me 127 vibes, when I was under the impression that Dream were a bit more bubblegum. The big standout from a production standpoint was the random drops in icantfeelanything, those really caught me off guard and they definitely kept me interested and looking forward to the album. Box had really interesting drum samples, but the vibe was still a bit uncomfy to me. Carat Cake was quite good, no real comments. Unknown made me think a bit about why I don’t like this sound, but Breathing really brought the album back for me. Massively enjoyed the vocals and to some extent the production decision. And overall, the vocals in this album were top notch. Nobody produces vocals like SM.

The title fits. This album totally felt like a dreamscape, in the same way that a dream can be mildly uncomfortable, and also powerful, and also, well… dreamy. Good, solid album, if you like this kind of sound then I’m sure you’ll love this.

- icantfeelanything

If my memory of Blueming serves me right, the no-spaces thing is a way to communicate excessive emotion over text

Speaking of dreamscape, this is a pretty soundscape

Holy hell that drop came out of nowhere

Harmonies

Dude what is up with that drop? Like it’s so good, but I’m not sure what its purpose is yet

Oh, it’s over? I really wanted more from that

I guess it’s just an intro, and in that sense it was a very good one bc it left me wanting more

9/10, I really wanted more but I can excuse it because it’s an intro

Smoothie

This is the only NCT Dream song that I’ve ever heard, and apparently it’s more of a 127 sound than their usual sound

This bass is definitely very 127

Actually yeah, this whole sound really is. The rap breaks and then sudden pretty vocal moments over the trap beat and bass, that’s classic

Gotta appreciate the slurp

Oh yeah this is Mark and Ten’s group, isn’t it

Those are the only members that I can name, so I hope I got them right lol

Anyway I think I recognized Mark’s voice from Jopping

The chorus is rather boring, but I do appreciate all the pretty vocal moments

Who produced this?

Nobody I recognize

8/10. Not amazing, but solid

BOX

Why does this remind me of Mr. Vampire

Nah, it’s a lot less clean

I like the drums a lot

Lol the distorted sample right before the chorus, that was cute

I don’t think I actually like the background synths. Very uncomfy

What’s he saying? “Nobody locking me up” I think?

Haha the ascending run going into the last chorus, that was funny

7/10

Carat Cake

Oh this is cool, what does this remind me of

This totally reminds me of something but I can’t figure it out

Mkay, I hear this bass

No serious what the hell does this remind me of?

Wow, wow wow wow, that’s a carat cake

I’m sure these lyrics mean something but I kind of hope they don’t

Also I would just love if they were saying “carrot cake” and not “carat cake”

8/10, what a vibe

UNKNOWN

Mkay, a similar vibe to the previous song’s intro

I must confess, this album has the whole red velvet cosmic echo that I’m not a huge fan of

They do love to pause the music for a moment of discussion

Oh this totally reminds me of Pretty Lights, woah

This moment around 3:00 is really nice, I appreciate the high note there

It just got loud all of a sudden and honestly it kinda felt poorly mixed

I don’t really know what to give this

8/10, but it’s a low 8

Breathing

The least-listened to song on the album

Also the longest

So probably a ballad?

We are definitely in ballad territory so far

Alright yeah, kind of anthemic power ballad outro vibes

I appreciate these harmonies around 1:40

The build into the drop for the verse around 2:50 was really nice, I appreciate that

Yeah, this chorus hits

I just got goosebumps, it might be because it’s cold in my room but it happened right at the chorus so I’m sure it’s related

9/10

[txemrn]

For the simping softness prompt...

Sam & Brynn - " hey, everything's gonna be fine. stay where you are, i'm on my way. "

Hey, Nestle! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this, and I hope you enjoy a fluffier Sam Dalton (for a change)! 🥰❤

***

Unveiled

Book: TNA

Warning: language; fluffy

A/N: Huge thank you to sweet @kat-tia801 for pre-reading this and helping me in my headspace with that darn moodboard! 🤣

***

Sipping hypnotically on her early morning espresso, a well-dressed Brynn stoically sits at the marble breakfast bar. Her normally careless, wavy almond tresses are neatly styled and pinned into a low, tasteful bun, exposing the pure white brilliance of her vintage Tiffany pearl earrings, courtesy of her future in-laws for accepting their son’s proposal to join the family. Her make-up is fixed modestly, her lips adorning her perfect shade of mauve, complimenting the ripples of blue and gray in her sparkling eyes. Her pressed midi eyelet dress is designed for women of status, easily paired with her nude, red-bottom heels.

And Brynn has never felt more uncomfortable.

Even though Sam asked for Brynn’s hand in marriage shortly after the new year, the couple agreed to announce their engagement intimately last month to their families. They knew the news would not come as a huge shock, but Sam had cautioned his young fiancée that wedding and party planning is a long-standing tradition amongst the Dalton family women, and it would begin the moment they knew a date had been set. Though she heard his warning, Brynn was not prepared for the onslaught of opinions, decisions being made without her approval, and more importantly, the disregard to her budget.

“Babe, we just spent $12,000. On a fucking cake--” nervously cried Brynn on Monday evening. Sam took the early morning off for wedding cake tasting, but left his bride-to-be with Vivian, his mother, and two of his cousins, Brigitte and Katarina, to talk design as he returned to the office

“Sweetie,” Sam kissed her gingerly, “don’t worry about the price.” He lovingly pressed his lips again to her mouth, this time embracing her comfortingly. “I got it--” Brynn forced a smile, nodding her head dutifully, but the price tag burdened her.

This is not me.

Today, Sam’s cousin Daphne, an apprentice for the designers at Alexander McQueen, has scheduled a fitting with a private collection from a recent trunk show of wedding dresses. Brynn already has her heart set on a dress she saw with Jenny and her mom back in Philly, but as to not rock the boat, Brynn agreed to look at dresses with the Daltons this morning.

A smooth, deep voice startles her from her thoughts as Sam wraps his arms around Brynn’s waist. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

That makes two of us.

Brynn bats her eyelashes. “Do I look like a Dalton?”

“Even better,” he peppers her neck with kisses, “you look similar to the gorgeous woman that agreed to marry me.” A natural smile takes over Brynn as she spins around in her stool to face Sam. She delicately slides her hands around his neck, pulling him into a more intentional, hungrier kiss. Sam pulls away first, tracing the back of his fingers across her soft cheeks. “Ready for another day with the fam?”

“Ready or not,” Brynn sardonically chuckles.

Sam kisses the tip of her nose. “Now, aren’t you missing something?” Brynn furrows her eyebrows, giving Sam a curious look until he pulls his other hand into view. On his pinky finger resting on his first knuckle is the 2.4 carat Graff emerald-cut engagement ring he had given her. “Do I need to superglue this on or what?”

Brynn nervously giggles. “I’m sorry, babe, I just--”she titters, “--you know, I’m just not used to this--”

And the five-digit price tag…

Sam raises an eyebrow, offering his hand with his palm facing up. Brynn’s eyes meet his dreamy, chocolate gaze as her hand easily melts into his. With his eyes not leaving her stormy blues, he glides the diamond on her finger. The perfect fit. He kisses her knuckles before kissing her lips again.

“You better get going, babe.” Resting his hands on Brynn’s hips, Sam helps her off the high-top chair. “Hey,” he leans over, suckling briefly on the crook of her neck and shoulder before brushing his lips against the shell of her ear. “This is all about us. Just you and me.” He offers a crooked smile, squeezing tightly to her hand. “Remember to have fun.”

Brynn nods, her anxiety beginning to melt away.

That’s right. You and me.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, beautiful.”

***

Flipping through notecards for his marketing presentation for the Cromwell account, Sam shakes his watch down his arm. 9:52 AM. He smirks, knowing that Brynn, his mom, and cousins are well into their wedding dress appointment. He hasn’t heard from his fiancée since this morning, so he remains encouraged that no news is good news.

Sam hurries into the glass-enclosed boardroom, casually nodding to several familiar faces as he unbuttons his sport coat. As his meeting comes to order, his phone begins to ring in his pocket. He chuckles in embarrassment as everyone begins to whisper with the interruption. “My apologies, folks,” he charms with a smile. Looking at his phone, Brynn’s picture pops up, but he sends the call to voicemail. As he begins to send her a text message, she calls back immediately. He silences the chiming of his phone, staring at Brynn’s ID photo. “Uh--” his voice carries over the room as he decides whether or not to take the call.

Brynn has never been one to interrupt Sam at work. If she wants to be cute, she usually sends a message in his lunch or she emails him, ensuring not to interrupt his busy schedule. The fact that she was calling, even after her call being rejected concerns Sam. “Excuse me. I need to take this,” he informs his audience, “please go ahead and help yourself to some coffee.”

Sam exits to the hallway, answering the phone. “Hey, babe--”

“Hey.” Brynn’s voice is soft like a gentle breeze, settling into a stale silence.

“Brynn?” Sam’s voice has a hint of concern as he crosses an arm over his chest to cradle his elbow. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I just--” her voice begins to crack, audibly swallowing sobs.

“Brynn baby,” Sam furrows his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. I just really--” she sighs heavily, “just needed to hear your voice. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to bother you--”

“You know full well that you are never a bother,” Sam hushes into a commanding whisper. “Is my mom being nice?”

“Oh God, yes. Everyone is lovely. It’s just--” Brynn stumbles into her own tears, crying over the phone as Sam patiently listens.

“It’s just what, baby--?”

“I can’t do this,” she abruptly answers. “I can’t keep pretending I’m something I’m not--”

“What do you mean--?”

“I have only tried on two dresses--couture dresses--Sam, that start at fifteen grand--” Sam purses his lips together, pinching the area between his eyes, listening to Brynn start to panic. “--and now I’m standing in a Sarah Burton gown rejected by Kate Middleton. Kate Middleton, Sam! And-and-and I’m wearing a diamond that costs more than my first car, and Sam, I just--I just--”

“Whoa, whoa, listen to me, baby,” Sam reassures her lovingly, “slow down. Breathe--just breathe. If you don’t want this, just say the word--”

“But your family--” Brynn tries to stifle her sobs, “God, I just--Sam, I can’t do this. I want you, and-and I love you. So fucking much,” she shakily exhales, “but this life? Are you sure? I mean--look at me--”

Sam lets out an exasperated exhale as Brynn continues to cry. He looks back into the glass conference room, seeing his presentation on the screen. He looks at his watch again before turning his attention back to the attendees to his meeting, already rolling their eyes in boredom.

Suddenly, a smile grows across his face. “Brynn baby?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles, “I’m here.’

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m hiding in the dressing room. I told the attendant I needed a minute.”

“Hey, everything’s gonna be fine. Stay where you are. I’m on my way--”

“But, Sam--”

“No ‘buts’, my beautiful bride,” he smiles cheekily, “I’ll be right there.”

***

Forty minutes later, Brynn changes back into her white, summery dress, slowly donning her heels. As she touches up her make-up for lunch with her future mother-in-law, she suddenly hears a man’s voice interrupt the hushed whispers of the Dalton women. Brynn carefully peaks out the lavish chenille curtain.

Sam.

Brynn quickly pulls open the changing room, a radiant smile illuminating her face. Sam jogs to her side, receiving her in his arms with a searing kiss. “I can’t believe you’re here--” Sam silences her, pressing his lips harder into hers, causing them both to giggle into breathless moans. Brynn opens her eyes and notices Sam has a garment bag in his hands. “What’s that?”

“Change into this.”

Brynn raises an eyebrow. “What? Why--?”

“It’s not new,” Sam informs, “but God,” he sighs, allowing a mischievous grin grow across his face. “--you look amazing in it.” Sam’s eyes lock onto Brynn’s, time and place fading around them. Brynn’s cheeks begin to flush, feeling the desire in his gaze. Sam cups Brynn’s cheek, licking his lip. “Go on,” he whispers, directing her to the dressing room and lightly spanking her on her ass, “we’ve got places to be.”

Brynn suspiciously steps backwards into the changing room, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip. She hangs up the garment bag, unzipping it hastily. Allowing the fabric to slink through her fingers, Brynn’s breath hitches, tears collecting in her eyes. Inside the protector is a short, solid black, one-shoulder dress, the same dress she wore on their official first date, the same dress she wore the night he proposed to her.

She pulls the curtain back open, causing Sam to whistle with his teeth, a golden gleam in his eyes. Giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, he steals Brynn from his family, escorting her to the car. Giving a nod to Carter, the car starts moving.

Brynn relaxes into Sam’s comforting arms. He begins to nuzzle his supple lips into her ear and neck. “Thank you, baby,” she moans. “I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting--”

“I’m not--” he growls as his lips descend to her exposed shoulder, nibbling on it.

“Sam--” Brynn gasps, leaning into the passionate smolder of his pout.

Suddenly, the car stops. Sam looks up at Brynn, offering his hand for hers. “Are you ready?”

Brynn giggles, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t even know where we are.”

Sam helps her out of the car. As she steps away from the car door to adjust her dress, she notices the grand cement gray building in front of her, adorned with large ornate columns and intricately chiseled statues. Stairs that lead to the front doors are busy with people coming and going.

Brynn furrows her eyebrows. Confused and wanting answers, she whirls around--only to find Sam on one knee. A curious smile grows across Brynn’s face as she self-consciously looks around at the crowd of people. “Sam, what are you doing?”

“You asked me earlier on the phone to look at you,” he smiles brightly as his eyes begin to glisten with tears. “I am.” He takes a big breath, gathering courage. “Brynn, I don’t care if we eat gold-infused cake with diamond encrusted icing or that fake shit from the can--” they both begin laughing, welcoming the comic relief as they wipe away their tears. Sam continues, “I don’t care whether you are wearing one of my ratty-old tees or an expensive couture dress--I don’t care,” he kisses her hand. “When I look at you, Brynn Noelle Schuyler, all I see… is that you’re the only one for me.” Brynn genuinely glows, streams of tears pouring down her cheeks as she subtly shakes her head in disbelief. “Marry me--”

“Sam,” she giggles, sniffing away her tears, “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but haven’t you already asked me--?” Sam stands up, shaking his head. He takes Brynn’s face tenderly into his hands, drying her tears with his thumbs.

“Marry me,” he bites his lip, nervously sucking in air. “Right now.” Brynn’s eyes grow wide as she stares deeply into Sam’s gaze. She anxiously looks around her, her eyes darting to the people staring at them, to the car and then to the courthouse before them.

“Right now?”

“Right now,” Sam smiles, humored by the shocked look on his bride’s face.

Brynn looks down at her hand, staring at the radiant sparkle of her diamond. Chewing on her lip, she subtly nods her head before turning her attention back to her groom.

“Okay.”

***

@ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @forallthatitsworth @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268@neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonsaid @shewillreadyou @somersetmummy @thefrenchiemama

[the-l-spacer]

Summary: In which Madeleine's latest attempt to hash things out with Espresso gets a little... out of hand.

This is my first cookie run fic i. genuinely can’t believe im writing for this game now. Anyways, hope ya like it!!

- 

He sees the knight striding towards him, spotless armour clinking smartly with each step he takes, cloak billowing ever-so-slightly behind him.

His lip curls, practically a reflex.

“Espresso. Do you have a moment?” Madeleine's voice, like his appearance, is meticulously crafted to capture the attention of anyone in his vicinity. A deep, resonant baritone that carries authority, brooks no room for disagreement, least of all disagreement from a particular surly practitioner of Coffee Magic.

Or at least, that’s what Madeleine likes to think. For all his chivalrous acts and airs seem to have no effect on Espresso in the slightest, who simply sighs and rolls his dark, bespectacled eyes.

“Do me a favour; skip the pretence that participation in this conversation is optional, and get to the point. I have research that needs attending to.”

Perhaps a few months ago, Espresso’s brusque reply would have stopped Madeleine in his tracks, wiped the genial smile off his face. But as it is, they’ve spent far too much time together (unwillingly, on Espresso’s part) for the other to be fazed by mere unfriendliness. So he simply barrels on as if Espresso had never spoken. “It appears as if that young band of cookies are keen on having us join their party.”

As one, they glance over to the campsite a little ways away, where Gingerbrave and Chilli Pepper are engaged in a mock-swordfight, wielding pieces of gathered firewood, with Wizard, Strawberry and Custard cheering on. Gingerbrave rushes forward, ‘sword’ held aloft, but Chilli Pepper sidesteps his attack, and before his momentum can carry him too far, grabs the scruff of his collar, and turns him to face her. “Sloppy work, kid. I could catch that coming from a mile away. Next time, try-” She pauses mid sentence, noticing Espresso and Madeleine’s gazes. She winks, and gives a two-fingered salute. “Hey! Wanna watch me spar with a buncha kids? There’s plenty of room on that log over there, but just a little warning, I charge adult spectators.”

Madeleine waves a hand. “No need to relieve our pockets just yet, friend Chilli Pepper. Espresso and I are perfectly content watching from afar.”

“And besides, we have better things to do,” Espresso adds, “Like being corralled by a paladin into having pointless conversations.” The last bit, he aims at Madeleine, who’s response is to grin wider.

If the irony in Espresso’s statement registers to Chilli Pepper, she doesn’t show it, and simply shrugs. “Don’t let me interrupt. You boys might wanna head a little further away to have that ‘pointless conversation’ though, it’s probably gonna get noisy up in this joint.”

“An excellent idea! My humblest thanks!” Madeleine sweeps into an exaggerated bow, and takes Espresso by the elbow. “My compatriot and I shall head a little further into the woods for our chat.”

Custard perks up at that, and shouts, “Be careful! There might still be cake monsters running around, and as king, I can’t let my subjects be hurt!”

“Not to worry, we’re more than capable of defending ourselves. If our previous encounters with those beasts suggested anything...”

As Madeleine talks, Espresso discretely tries to wriggle free from the hand on his elbow, but his attempts prove futile, Madeleine’s grip is loose but firm, forming a little cage around his arm.

He lets his arm go limp, and when the grasp loosens slightly in response, he flicks his free hand, around which (unbeknownst to the jabbering knight) shadows had been gathering for quite some time.

A tendril of magic whips around and strikes Madeleine’s wrist.

“-And as Knight of the Madeleine House, I was trained since I was but a little cookie, much like your merry band, to- ah!” When the tendril connects with a small thwack, he releases Espresso, jerking away as if burned (in actuality, the magic was really just a moderately heated slap. Espresso didn’t want to do any serious damage to Madeleine, after all.)

The seemingly permanent smile on the knight’s face falters, just for a second, and Espresso allows himself a moment of schadenfreude.

“Is... is everything okay, Madeleine?” Strawberry pipes up from her spot on the log.

“Quite alright, quite alright.” The ten-carat smile is back in full force, and once again, he waves his (non-injured) hand airily, though Espresso notes with some satisfaction the displeased side glance Madeleine shoots at him.

Espresso’s face pulls into a smile of his own, falsely sweet. “Well. Shall we be off, then?” He begins walking into the woods. True, he would much rather be tucked away in some quiet corner, poring over magical scrolls, but if he has to be subjected to this... chat, at least he can try to have some fun while doing so. Make Madeleine regret initiating contact, make him trail behind for once.

And sure enough, Madeleine follows after him, making long strides to catch up.

As they retreat into the forest, Gingerbrave shouts, “Come back in time for dinner! We’re having sweet jelly stew!”

“We’ll be there,” Madeleine replies, not needing to raise his voice for it to carry across the clearing where they had set up camp.

The other cookies give their final waves, and return to sparring, the sounds of cheering and wood striking wood fading the deeper in Espresso and Madeleine travel.

- 

Eventually, the noises from the campsite fade entirely, replaced by the chirping of birds, and the soft rustling of trees. The last of the day’s light dapples through the jelly forest’s leaves, and Espresso might have called the whole scene pleasant, if not for the cookie next to him.

They come to a stop in a forest clearing. “Is this far enough for your liking, oh Knight-Commander of House Madeleine?”

Madeleine leans against a tree, the light glinting off his armour. “You know, the attitude really isn’t necessary, and neither,” he cocks his head, glossy hair spilling over one shoulder, his reprimanding smile akin to a teacher lecturing a particularly irritating student, “was the use of dark magic back there.”

Espresso smirks. “Ah. Have I discovered your weakness? Is the pride of House Madeleine scared of a little magic? I just meant for it to tickle, really.”

A scowl begins to form on Madeleine’s face, before he schools it back into careful neutrality. “You must be intelligent enough to grasp my meaning. It’s not the act itself, it’s the…” He gestures loosely in the air, his right hand still slightly red, “... the spirit of it all. Cookies who fight together shouldn’t turn on one another. It simply isn’t right.”

“Mmm. Mm hmm. Of course it isn’t.” Espresso, in a bid to minimize the dirt from the forest floor getting on his robes, opts to hover just a little above the ground, and Madeleine has to crane his neck to meet his gaze. “And I’m sure wrestling the cookie you’re supposed to be fighting with into the woods is so much more excusable.”

Madeleine bristles. “You wouldn’t have agreed to this conversation otherwise, as you’ve made so abundantly clear in the past. All I did was ensure you wouldn’t be able to weasel your way out of the inevitable yet another time.”

“What about our current situation makes you think this conversation is inevitable?” Espresso snaps. “I’ve told you time and time again I don’t care for your company. Our paths crossed once, we travelled together briefly to achieve our own goals, and parted ways. We work together acceptably, and we tolerate each other, barely. What more is there to be said between us?”

“Well, for one,” Madeleine says, standing just a bit straighter, as if to deliver a set of prepared lines, “I was telling you, before we were interrupted, that Gingerbrave and his fellows seem eager to have us as travelers alongside them.”

“Yes. And?”

“And I’m sure you are as keen as I am on accepting their offer.”

Espresso stiffens. He hates cookies who presume things about him, and more than that, he hates when those presumptions are right. After a moment, he bites out, “Even if I was, what of it.”

“We’ll be traveling together once again. Serving as their protectors, and all that.”

“So what? As I said, we’ve travelled in each other’s companies before.”

“Yes, but I believe this will be our longest journey yet. They seek answers, a way to defeat the evil forces rising, and this is no easy feat.”

“I seek no such thing,” Espresso scoffs, folding his arms. “I only know that they’re searching for the Forgotten Academy, and that particular locality has a library I’ve been meaning to peruse for a while. I plan to travel with them until that point, where we will then part ways.”

“Even then, according to my maps the Forgotten Academy is weeks away. Maybe a month. Months, if we keep up our current pace. A considerable amount of time that allows for sour dough to spoil further. I simply think it… unwise, to allow things between us two to reach such a point.” Having finally said his piece, Madeleine pushes himself off the roll cake trunk, and starts towards Espresso, open palm outstretched.

No, not again. They had done this dance before, and Espresso isn’t planning to retrace those steps. He whizzes backward, out of Madeleine’s reach.

“I’m not interested in becoming friends, knight,” he spits. “And I tire of your constant overtures.”

Madeleine’s hand returns to his side in an impatient motion. “Must you insist on being this- this difficult?” He asks, voice fraught with frustration. “It is a simple offer. Put our differences aside and work together amicably, if only to to make our journey more tolerable for us and our companions.”

“Ahhh but there’s the rub, Madeleine,” Espresso retorts, “I’m afraid our differences are too great to reconcile. If that is all you have for me, I think I’ll be returning to camp. I would say it’s been a pleasure, but… you know better.”

He makes to leave, floating quickly away to leave the knight behind, but catches a blur of movement from the corner of his eye. Before he can react, Madeline moves forward, his armour and shield glowing. With a flash, the shield comes down on the edge of Espresso’s long, dark cloak, pinning it to the forest floor.

Both of them hear the telltale sound of ripping fabric.

“Don’t move.” Madeleine warns.

Espresso’s vision goes red. He gathers the shadows to him, wreathing his clenched fists in black swirls of magic.

He doesn’t move.

A pause, then the shield lifts.

Espresso doesn’t wait to rush backward, heading straight for Madeleine. This time, it’s the knight that finds himself unprepared, as Espresso grabs him, and with the help of his magic, lifts him in the air, slamming him against the trunk of the nearest tree.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” he growls.

Their faces are close enough now that Espresso sees the tiniest twitch of fear in Madeleine’s expression. He doesn’t yield, keeping him pinned to the trunk.

Madeleine speaks, holding both hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Now, now, I admit I was rather hasty, but there really is no need for-“

“- doesn’t feel nice, does it? Being trapped against your will?” Espresso cuts him off.

“Listen. I’m sorry things had to come to that point.”

Espresso sneers. Just as he predicted, Madeleine’s ‘apology’ is anything but. His mouth forms the syllables, but like a pedestrian one accidentally jostles on the street, his ‘sorry’ is merely a formality, said to hear the sound of his own voice.

Espresso doesn’t buy it, is what he’s saying.

“Save it. Save your pithy little apologies and insincere attempts at friendship for some other cookie.”

Madeleine’s face twists in indignation. “I’m not being insincere!”

Espresso drops him unceremoniously, the knight’s armour clattering when he lands on the soft earth. He tries not to betray his own fatigue, both in mind and body. Madeleine is heavy after all, weighed down further by his armour and weapons, making the act of holding him aloft (even aided by magic) one that had taken a not-insignificant toll on him. His feet touch down lightly on the ground, the glowing aura around him fades.

“Oh, spare me,” Espresso says coldly. “Every action, every toss of your hair or flick of your cloak, every word that comes out of your mouth betrays your insincerity.”

Having gathered himself, Madeleine finally snaps, drawing his sword from its scabbard with a metallic hiss. “How dare you.” His voice, a dangerous murmur, grows louder and louder, until it carries to the treetops. “I don’t know what I have done to offend you so. I attempted to be friendly, and reach out with offers of peace, as my family taught me to do for years, but you insist on rebuffing me, sullying my good name with your.. your insolence!”

The sword is pointed at Espresso’s throat, now, and the magician takes a careful step backward, keeping an eye on the gleaming blade. Madeleine doesn’t seem to notice, however, as he barks, “I’ve been lenient in the past, but as a cookie of honour, I can’t let such words continue to slide. The Divine, protect me!”

Celestial light bathes the forest clearing, surrounding Madeleine in its radiance. He lunges forward and swings his sword, a ray of light arcing from its blade. Espresso, caught unawares, finds himself knocked back, sent stumbling to catch his footing.

He regains his balance, clutching on to a tree branch, and counters the next light ray with an explosion of coffee beans that makes Madeleine's attack fizzle out.

“You know I’m right about you,” Espresso taunts, “in fact, we both know this is all a little charade you put on, because-” he plants his feet firmly in the ground, bracing himself against a third wave of light magic. “- beneath all your bravado, your shiny armour and fancy new weapons, you are empty.”

“That’s not true!” Madeleine roars, attempting to close the distance between them. But Espresso splays his hands, and a swirling vortex forms, pulling the paladin backward and into its dark center. Madeleine staggers in pain.

“You’re just a selfish glory-seeker, as slow and soulless as the monsters that- gah!”

Dexterity had never been his strong suit, so when Madeleine’s retaliating attack comes, he doesn’t dodge quickly enough. He sees the sword swing, feels an impact across his face, before his world goes blurry.

His glasses!

A lance of panic spikes through his chest.

He can’t see. He can’t see and he can’t look for his glasses either because if he steps on them that’s it. And Madeleine will win or worse he’ll just leave him here, in the middle of the woods.

The attacks stop coming.

The forest is silent once more, but for the two cookies’ heavy breathing.

Then, Espresso hears the crunching of leaves, sees the blurry shape of Madeleine stride towards him. He readies his magic. Madeleine passes him, and bends down over a spot Espresso can’t quite see.

A familiar metallic object is pressed into his hand.

“Your glasses.”

In a flash, Espresso has them on again, and exhales in relief when the forest comes back into focus.

“I never meant to knock them over. I’m sorry.”

Espresso is about to respond, but Madeleine says, “We should not have let our discussion escalate like this.”

“I’m sorry. We?!” Espresso’s recently restored vision colours. “When it was you who dealt the first blow? You, who initiated this discussion in the first place, who-” He trails off, righteous indignation fading slightly when he sees Madeleine, who stands at arm’s length away from him, both hands resting on the pommel of his sword, his expression unreadable.

“..Yes. Fine. As allies, we shouldn’t have turned on each other like this.”

Madeleine says nothing, so Espresso continues. “But as our previous attempts at civility have shown, you are incapable of holding a conversation without trying to domineer over me, push me into situations I do not want to be in. And I… I admit that I went too far in my personal assessments of you, but the fact remains that I simply cannot work with you beyond what we already are. Allies, and nothing more.”

For the second time, Espresso begins walking back to camp. Madeleine makes no attempt to stop him. “Thank you for retrieving my glasses. Good evening.”

Before he can fully retreat into the copse of trees, he hears Madeleine’s voice, saying, “Wait.”

Espresso pauses for a moment, and continues walking.

“Wait. Please.”

The word ‘please’ sounds so strange on Madeleine’s lips, and Espresso realises he can’t recall if the cookie had ever said the word in all the time they had worked together.

He turns his head.

Madeleine is leaned against a tree, arms folded and a foot kicked up against the trunk. His face is hidden by a curtain of hair.

“You are from The Republic, yes?”

Thrown by the sudden question, Espresso says, “Yes. The both of us are.”

“You’re aware that The Republic is a peaceful nation. No conflict within its gates, no monsters to be found without.”

Where is this going? Espresso responds, “Safe, sterile, and utterly boring. I’m aware.”

“Then what,” Madeleine turns his face away from Espresso, addressing the trees, “what use do you think such a nation has for soldiers? For knights?”

Oh.

Madeleine laughs, not his usual hearty guffaw, filled to the brim with bravado, but a short and bitter exhalation. “Do you know what it’s like to be, as you called me, the ‘slow’ one, in a family of scholars and politicians? For your only prowess to be your physical strength, in a place where that skill is entirely unnecessary?”

“But the knight order you lead-”

“- is purely for show. Just cookies dressed up in shiny armour to remind the other kingdoms we’re not to be trifled with. None of them have actually seen a day of real combat outside of sparring.”

Espresso is back in the clearing, picking a position next to Madeleine so he doesn’t see his sympathetic expression.

“Then… the reason you and all the knights were sent out?”

“As I said, my mission was to seek the legendary Soul Jam that is supposed to grant us cookies eternal life. Not that anyone in the Republic really expects us to find it.”

“They wanted to get rid of you, then.”

Madeleine visibly flinches at Espresso’s words. “I wouldn’t put it so bluntly, but… yes. I’m welcome back home, of course. If I were to return, I’d be met with trumpets and fanfare, but not much else, and certainly not anything approaching respect from those who truly matter.” The knight clenches his fist. “This quest is to be my saving grace. My only purpose, and the only way one like me can conceivably bring pride to House Madeleine. The only way I can be of use”

Espresso regards Madeleine, the revelation casting the cookie in a new light.

“So.. yes, Espresso. I am a selfish glory-seeker. Perhaps I have no other choice but to be.” Madeleine’s previously ramrod-straight posture is gone, and in its place his fists are clenched, shoulders hunched inwards, his hair tumbling forward, shielding his face from view.

And a small part of Espresso feels the strangest urge to push that hair back, to place a comforting hand on the paladin’s shoulder. Anything to stop what has to be the strongest — the most annoying, surely, but the strongest nevertheless — cookie he knows from curling into himself, from hurting like this.

But he holds himself back. All he lets out is a soft, “I think I know how you feel. Not entirely, but some of it.”

Madeleine turns to look at Espresso, a blank expression on his face. “You do.”

The mage lets a spark of magic fly from his hand - a single, glowing coffee bean surrounded by dark shadow. “You have called what I do ‘black magic’ in the past.”

Madeleine, suddenly stricken, says, “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘black magic’, but-”

“- Listen. You have, countless times. And it annoys me to no end, but I understand why. It does look like it, no?” He conjures more coffee beans, letting them spin in circles around him. “I’ve had this ability since I was a child. It did not come from dark origins, I did not make a pact with evil forces to obtain it, as some have believed. It simply was. My magic, like your physical strength, is a part of me.”

Madeleine simply nods.

“But people don’t understand Coffee Magic. Whenever I demonstrated my abilities, I’d be shunned, the respectable citizens of our beloved Republic saying that I was a child of Dark Enchantress Cookie.”

“Espresso…” His magic fizzles out, and now, it is his turn to look away, incapable of facing the pity that is surely in Madeleine’s gaze.

“I was barred from every magic school. I had to learn, and practice, and make it on my own. If I didn’t have Latte Cookie, I don’t know how I would have-” Espresso shakes his head. “No matter. All I am saying is that I do know how it feels, not to belong. To have to carve a place for yourself among people who can’t respect you.”

A hand settles on his shoulder, and Espresso almost flinches. He looks up, and his gaze meets Madeleine’s, earnest and apologetic. “Espresso, first and foremost, I am sorry that I ripped your cloak in trying to keep you here.”

Espresso’s eyes travel to his torn (and expensive) wizard’s cloak. “It’s fine. I’ll just have to get it repaired once we return to camp.”

Madeleine continues. “And I’m sorry, truly sorry that I misjudged you based on your magic. That I pushed when I should have respected your wishes. Respected you.”

And this time, Espresso believes Madeleine’s words. He lets his own hand creep upwards to rest over the knight’s.

He sighs. “And I apologise, too. I made undue assumptions about you, and let these assumptions colour my actions. I treated you poorly, and for that, I’m sorry.”

When their eyes meet again, it is as if the forest goes silent, nature’s rustle and hum being forgotten as the two look at each other, and for the first time, understand.

Of course, no moment can truly last, and it is Espresso who breaks the spell, gently moving Madeleine’s hand off his shoulder. “Naturally, don’t think this means I’ll let you strongarm me into doing whatever you want me to. You still irritate me. Incessantly.”

Madeleine chuckles. “Naturally. Besides, I do not imagine such actions will be necessary in the future. I think we understand each other perfectly clearly, now.”

Espresso lets a grin creep across his face. Rolling his eyes, he says, “Don’t assume you know everything based on a tidbit of my past. I encompass multitudes, Knight-Commander.”

“In turn, I request that you not write me off just yet,” Madeleine responds teasingly. “I may not know everything about you, but I would be very interested to,”

Both their eyes widen, Madeleine realising the forwardness of his statement. “That is. I will give you the space you need, certainly, but if you ever feel like-”

“- Wait. Stop.” Espresso takes a breath, lets it out. “I- I do feel the same way. You’re a good fighter, and I did not let myself give you a fair chance.”

He crosses the short distance between them, and extends a hand. “I’m Espresso Cookie of The Republic. Founder of the Coffee Magic School. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Madeleine regards the outstretched hand in wonder.

"... Don't make a big deal of it, knight."

He puffs out his chest, taking Espresso’s hand. “And I’m Madeleine Cookie of The Republic. Servant of The Divine, Knight Comm-” He stops himself, clears his throat. Then, he smiles and simply says, “I’m Madeleine Cookie. It’s an honour to get to know you.”

[indiaalphawhiskey]

SD Drabble #1

Note: Another prompt I thought of long ago, that I’m still so in love with. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the time to write it, but here it is anyway. Posting under the tag “Sugar Daddy AU”. Please excuse my self-indulgence. xx ---

“Have you got that?” the woman asked. The tone of her voice, coupled with the patronizing pinch of her newly ‘refreshed’ lips, screamed condescension.

Harry offered her a soft, subdued smile. “I have, ma’am,” he said, calmly.

She sniffed and her nose, already two and a half inches in the air to begin with, titled higher in doubt. “Repeat it, then.”

Harry let out a slow exhale through his teeth.

“Of course.” His smile never left his face as he ran through the list in his head. “For the table’s appetizers, the Rockefeller oyster platter, baked garlic lemon butter scallops, lemon butter sauce separated into individual sauce dishes, garlic to the side, and a Caesar salad, with no dressing, no bacon, no chicken, and no croutons, to be served twenty minutes before the main dishes. For his entree,” Harry said, turning to offer the gentleman – who had been scanning him from head-to-toe with a rather lascivious smirk – a quick nod. “Sir will have the cherry-glazed rack of lamb, with marble potatoes instead of garlic rice pilaf, potatoes pre-cut into quarters, and a whiskey double.” He turned back to the woman, a challenge in his tone. “Madam will have the Chilean sea bass and braised asparagus, asparagus to the side and blanched instead of braised, with the pesto and lemon sauce on a separate dish, and a glass of Semillon. Dessert will be two pieces of the dairy and gluten-free chocolate truffle cake, and two glasses of our best sherry.”

The woman’s gaze remained unimpressed.

“Fine,” she breathed. She flicked her fingers away once, the sheen of her opulent diamond ring reflected on the white tablecloth – a dismissal.

Harry bowed politely, face impeccably calm as he gathered the menus from the table and began to walk away.

Oyster platter and scallops baked in nothing, he recited in his head as he weaved his way around the tables. Plain lettuce masquerading as Caesar salad. Lamb with an entirely different side dish than the one on the menu – Chef will be pleased as fuck, by the way––

Snap! Harry startled at the sound. What the f–– Snap! Snap! Snap!

He leaned back reflexively to avoid the hand aggressively snapping right in front of his nose, before turning to find it was attached to a portly man in his mid-fifties. His face was tinged red with impatience, his breath laboured as he heaved himself back onto his chair now that he had Harry’s attention.

Harry took a deep breath before facing the table.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Sir,” he began politely. “But my colleague will be with you in just a mo –”

“Oh, you’ll do, sweetheart,” the man crooned, licking his lips as he surveyed Harry. “You’ll do just fine.”

His impatience had faded completely, Harry noticed, though Harry much preferred irritation to… whatever this new expression was. Having only had this job for three days, it took all of Harry’s willpower to swallow the cutting remark that was already resting on his tongue. He managed, but unfortunately, the way his skin was crawling with discomfort was not as easily dealt with.

He exhaled slowly, reminding himself why he needed this job. Unbidden, the events of the last week flashed before his eyes.

Finding unrecognizable lingerie under his pillow. Being told by his fiance that he was being left for a nineteen-year-old pilates instructor slash aspiring male model. Discovering three months’ worth of unpaid rent bills hidden in their (now his, he supposed) bread box, and a discarded bill for a ‘12-carat gold-plated necklace with ‘MY BABY’ engraving, cursive’ (Gross.) in his trash (already paid, thank God for small favours). Combing coffee shop bulletin boards for part-time jobs that fit his tedious grad school schedule. Chicken-flavored ramen for the three straight dinners.

He tried not to sigh.

Relax, he told himself. Be professional, get your check, and get out of here.

“How may I help you, Sir?” Harry said, miraculously polite.

“Well, handsome,” Lecherous Restaurant Patron purred, drawing out the pregnant pause as Harry quelled a rising gag.

“Come off it, George,” his companion cut in. He tacked on a chuckle at the end like an afterthought, though it couldn’t mask the slight edge embedded in the words. It made Harry think of the way a cheeky thief smiles as he runs his finger back and forth against a switchblade – just a hint of a threat. “Just order, mate. The kid’s busy.”

It was hardly a white knight stepping in to defend his honour, but after the week Harry had, it was close. He had barely glanced in his saviour’s direcion before George spoke again.

“I own the place, Tomlinson. He can spare a couple more minutes, can’t you, darling?” He punctuated the question with two hefty slaps to Harry’s arse cheek. The first made Harry freeze in shock. The second made his vision go red.

Lingerie.

‘He’s… amazing, Harry. I love him.’

Rent.

‘MY BABY’ engraving, cursive.

Wanted: Part-time Wait Staff.

‘Repeat it, then.’

Slap! Slap!

The punch flew out of Harry, the crisp sound of knuckles against cheekbone ringing satisfyingly in his ears, loud and clear over the scuffle, over the yelling, over the firing. It was all Harry could hear until the harsh slam of the restaurant’s back door, and the biting whip of the winter wind.

Cheated on, left, in debt, harassed, fired, tossed out on my arse, Harry thought to himself, raising his fist in a sarcastic cheer. B-I-N-G-fucking-O. What he wouldn’t do for a joint right now.

He let out a deep, bone-tired sigh, winter’s icy fingers creeping around his open coat and up his too-thin undershirt (they had taken his uniform straight off his back, the bastards), before making his way out of the tiny back alley. He hunched his shoulders automatically, the wind somehow stronger out on the dimly lit main street, and began his long trudge to the tube stop, large hands stuffed awkwardly into his coat’s faux pockets because he had also lost his favorite gloves to bloody Neverwhere this morning.

“Mind the gap, indeed,” he mumbled to himself sadly, taking a little solace in the fact that he had remembered to bring his earphones with him today. He was convinced the morose opening chords of Landslide would manage soothe his broken heart, if he played it enough times. (Hey, if Stevie made it through, so could Harry.)

Lost in thought (and in the gargantuan task of untangling the aforementioned earphones), the barely audible crunch of gravel next to him didn’t register at all.

“ – genuinely feel like you’re ignoring me on purpose now but, once more, with feeling – Do. You. Need. A. Ride?”

Harry jumped, clutching at his heart and dropping his earphones in surprise. “What the bloody –”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said. He offered Harry a sheepish smile, his elbow resting on the window of his cheesily predictable top down. “But I’d been here for like seven minutes –”

“You’ve been stalking me for seven minutes,” Harry deadpanned, so done with these absolute shits. “Yeah, not a great line to lead with.”

“Not stalking,” he tried to chuckle confidently, but the tone came out slightly uncertain. “But like, offering you a ride. You know, to make up for…” He tipped his head backward, motioning to the restaurant. “My partner. Business partner,” he clarified seriously, and ––

Oh, Harry thought. The other guy. Tomlinson, he remembered. No wonder his voice was familiar.

“No, thank you,” Harry said curtly as he began to walk again, his face resolutely blank, eyes trained stubbornly on his destination.

A huff of disbelief weaved itself between the sound of slow-rolling wheels.

“C’mon, kid,” Tomlinson tried. “It’s cold as shit.”

“Then maybe get a car with a roof,” Harry said, quietly.

Tomlinson chuckled in answer, wheels still painfully in time with Harry’s steps.

“Fair point. C’mon,” he repeated. “You’ve had a shit night. You’re cold and tired. Let me give you a ride.” When Harry stayed silent, he continued. “You’ll be home quicker. Home, and clean,” he needled. “And warm.”

At that, Harry let himself steal a glance, and was greeted with Tomlinson’s smirking profile, his eyes on the road. High cheekbones, a sharp jaw, the lovely peak of a small nose – everything was slim and pointed. Pixie-like, Harry caught himself thinking, though the delicate quality of his face was offset by just a hint of handsome stubble. A healthy amount of silver decorated his temples, but the hair on his head was still a touch more pepper than salt. Not quite a silver fox just yet.

Fifty, Harry guessed. Fifty-five at most.

“Is this your M.O., or something?” Harry asked, trying to keep the raking irritation from bleeding into his voice. The calmer he was, the less Tomlinson would think he was getting somewhere. “Is that how this works? You go to a restaurant, find a target, get your wingman to act like an arsehole, and then swoop in for the kill?”

A startled laugh broke through the hush of the street.

“Just a wee bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Tomlinson teased.

“Evasive, aren’t you?” Harry shot back.

“Okay, calm down, Sherlock.” Harry could still hear the amusement in his voice. “I do have killer flirting skills, but not serial killer flirting skills.”

Harry sighed then, so, so exhausted. “Right. Well again, no thank you on the ride. In case my little demonstration at the restaurant was somehow unclear, I don’t date men who are old enough to be my father.”

He tipped his chin up higher, because while Harry may not have any money (or a job, or a fiance), he still had his dignity.

Or at least part of it, he corrected, pushing away the curdle of humiliation as he remembered finding those awful panties.

“So you only date cheap men,” Tomlinson said, decisively.

“God,” Harry whispered under his breath, his annoyance now too hard to ignore. Louder he said, “Fuck off.”

“Cheap,” he continued confidently over Harry’s insult. “Young, handsome bastards who get one big paycheck and think that makes them Drake or whoever the fuck –” The cool-dad rap reference, plus the well-timed dig at his stupid, necklace-engraving ex, made Harry’s lip twitch upward against his will. “ – and then fuck off with some barely-legal twit who sucks dick like a champ but can’t name a single city outside of London.”

Harry snorted.

“Know him, or something?” he asked sarcastically, eyes trained on the tiny Underground sign that was still about three blocks away.

“Know him? Oh love,” The way he said it – ‘Luhv’ – made Harry finally turn to him. It was a mistake. His eyes were sharp – a searing blue even in the orange cast of the street lamps – and his smile devastating. “I am him,” he admitted freely, the skin around his eyes crinkling as his smirk widened. “Only, you know,” he shrugged. “With a few more checks, and slightly higher standards. I mean,” he blinked, almost sweetly. “You can name at least three cities outside London... can’t you?”

Harry could feel a gentle heat settle at the tops of his cheeks, the insinuation about his blowjob skills decidedly not lost on him. He felt his stomach do a sudden somersault. He pushed it away, convincing himself it was just the rush of attention, the electricity of an unexpected ego boost and that quick, first moment of feeling pretty again after getting horribly, horribly dumped.

His brief silence must’ve signaled a chink in his armour, because Tomlinson then took it as an opportunity to say, “I’m Louis.”

“I didn’t ask,” Harry said, tongue fast, though the fact that he hadn’t yet ducked into a not-suitable-for-sports-cars-sized alleyway probably softened the blow.

Louis only nodded, still smiling. “Right, okay. As much fun as this has been, I really doubt the lovely heated seating of my car will dull our banter. Or...” he dragged out the ‘r’, eyes mischievous.  “Are you really going to let a…” he assessed Harry. “Twenty? Twenty year gap be the reason you get hypothermia? Is that really the hill you want to freeze on, Mr. Principled?”

“Closer to twenty-six,” Harry corrected stubbornly. “Which is an entire fully grown adult between us. You could have kids as old – nay, older – than our age gap.” Did he just say ‘nay?’

“Did you just say ‘nay’, Shakespeare?” Louis teased. “So definitely at least three cities outside London, then.” Harry didn’t smile but it was a close thing. “And I promise you,” Louis continued. “I haven’t put myself in the position to bear children since you were – nay, before you were born. Been in a lot of other positions since then, though.”

He had the audacity to punctuate it with a wink. It was annoyingly charming, and Harry had never been angrier at himself.

“Besides,” Louis said, with the kind of smile that knew victory was close. “It’s just a ride, love, no strings attached. Unless of course, getting tied up is what you’re into,” he added, so incredibly pleased with himself. Harry wanted to smack him. But he could also feel the blessedly comfortable heat radiating from the car’s vents.

“Fine.”

[bensbuttercup]

Only Angel (T.H.) (1)

A/N: before I write the second part witch would honestly just be smut and fluff I want feedback on this one. Because I’m not sure how it came out tbh.

“Princess,” Tom huffed as you pecked his lips, “why can’t I just stay with you?”

“Tom,” you sighed and pushed his chest away from you, “go find your seat.” The boy went to protest but you were having none of it. “It gets crazy back here, you don’t see anyone else’s boyfriends lingering around, just you. Go make friends Haz is already out there.”

“Fine,” he kissed you once more before disappearing down the hall and into the seats. You quickly made your way to where some of the other girls were giving interviews and sat down.

“Sorry, just sorting some stuff out.”

“Oh don’t be. So (Y/N),” you looked over to the interviewer who was asking you and all the other angles questions. “A plus size Angel, one of the first?” You nodded and waited for her to continue. “How does it feel?” You had been answering that question for months now, but you still smiled and gave just about the same answer you always did.

“I mean, it’s a start,” you gave a soft smile, “I’m anywhere from a size twelve to sixteen, it’s getting more inclusive and I was flattered. It’s been my dream to walk in a show like this and well here I am.”

“You’re not nervous?”

“Of course it is slightly nerve wracking,” you hugged Tom’s hoodie you were wearing closer to you, “but I’m flattered. They always say you’re your own worst enemy, and that’s true, I have an amazing support system who encourage me everyday.”

“Well, speaking of support systems your boyfriend must surely enjoy it,” she wiggles her eyebrows making you laugh. “I saw his name on the VIP List earlier.”

“Oh Tom?” You asked as the last touches on your make up we’re now being completed. “He’s in the front row, and he has no idea what I’m wearing yet so it’s a surprise!” You we’re excited for your boyfriend to see three of the outfits you were wearing that night. You thought they looked amazing and well you knew Tom would too. “He didn’t want to leave earlier but you know, not spoiling the surprises.”

“Girls?” There was a knock on the door before one of the stage hands poked their head in. “Two minutes.”

“Thank you,” you replied before turning back to the camera. “I’ll see you later!” You replied before standing up and slipping out of the room. All of the other girls followed and you knew it was your moment to shine. You pulled your hoodie off as you walked towards the runway entrance, handing the clothing to someone to place in your dressing room. The other models nervously waiting for their first walk of the night also.

“It’s go time girls!” One of the show’s directors yelled as models began walking out. You got in line and happily danced as the model in front of you walked out.

“Let’s go!” You blew a kiss at the camera on the side of the stage and waved, smiling brightly as you heard the opening lines to ‘Slow Hands’ play through the arena. You made sure your wings were in place before stepping out to the public eye for the first time. You were dressed in a red and black lace push up with matching boy shorts with a pair of red and black wings with silver accents and you felt amazing. You knew you looked great.

“We should take this back to my place,” you had reached where Niall Horan, the first guest artist was. He was your childhood favorite and Tom knew that, he had whined about it for days when he found out that Niall would be one of the singers.

‘But babe you’re going to be so close!’

‘Tom we’ve been together for years now I’m not leaving you.”

“But-“

“No I’m still going.”

When you had reached the end of the runway you heard the words “cause I want you bad, yeah I want you baby!” And you quickly located Tom in the crowd and pointed to him, and added a small dance, before turning and walking back up the runway. You heard the crowd go wild and you also knew Tom would be bright red. It was little things such as that you did which would drive him crazy all night long, little things like that which would knock him down a few levels in the public eye. It was also little things like that which would land you in a world of trouble as soon as you were alone.

Once you passed the camera backstage and twirled you quickly ran to change for the next song you would be walking to. You changed into your light pink babydoll with a silk train, the matching bottoms and light pink thigh highs before slipping your heels and baby pink wings on and making your way back to the side of the stage. That walk was a piece of cake and after the next you would be walking your fourth and final outfit to ‘On the Loose’, wearing the year’s Fantasy Bra. Walking in that look was a statement of its own for your standing as a model. You had been nervous since you had seen the outfit for the first time and heard the seven figure price tag.

Once you had taken off your babydoll and slipped into your robe a woman who worked for the cooperate branch of Victoria Secret knocked on your small dressing room’s door and you welcomed her in. “Want me to put those in a box?” She pointed towards the lingerie you had hung up.

“A box?”

“A few of our models are able to take what they wear home this year,” she took the hangers and the wings. “Consider it a welcome gift for you and your boyfriend,” she winked and you felt yourself go red before she left yelling. “Change! You only have a few minutes to change and be in hair and makeup!” You sighed and walked over to the boxes you knew contained the next outfit you were wearing. Your eyes went wide when you were met with a red and blue bra and panty set with black accents, almost like webbing that framed your chest and torso.

“Of course,” you mumbled slipping into the outfit. You grabbed the black wings that were accented with blue and red feathers before walking over to hair and makeup where they made sure everything was still in place and brushed some extra sparkle on to certain areas of your torso and arms.

“Spider-Man’s girl is looking amazing,” you rolled your eyes walking past one of your best friends who was also in the show as you heard the lines to the next song start to play. You adjusted your hair and allowed the makeup artist to add a small design to your cheek before lining up where you needed to be.

“I can’t believe they put me in this,” you laughed a little bit looking at your outfit. “Tom’s gonna lose it!” And with that you were next and your woes were forgotten. You walked confidently and caught your Boyfriend’s eye at the end seeing a small smile okay on his lips and he gave you a thumbs up which you returned.

As soon as you were backstage you were whisked away back into your dressing room where an entire team was waiting. You were carefully changed into the six and a half million dollar outfit. “Oh my god!” The designer of the set was fussing with all of the crystal accents that framed your arms and torso. It looked like a mermaid style bra, a beautiful iridescent color covered in pearls and crystals the cups resembling seashells. However, the centerpiece of the look was the five carat Fire Opal hanging from the neck piece coming to rest between your breasts. The bikini style panties also matched the mermaid-esque style with pearls and jewels, the garment was incredibly uncomfortable.

“Wings?” One of the assistans asked as a pair of incredibly heavy and quite large wire wings were slipped on to your arms. They were accented with crystals and material that flowed in the air as if the wings were underwater; shells made from crystal and pearls also among the design. The Sirens of the Sea theme for the song had turned out amazing outfits but yours would be the highlight of the night. White heels were slipped on to your feet and the jewelry that would frame your lower half was clipped on and you smiled allowing a few pictures to be taken.

“Go time!” You held your head up high as you heard the opening notes of the song. You smiled and waved at the cameras you passed as you were led to where you were going to wait to make your grand entrance and tried to shake your nerves off. It was the first time you were really able to think about what you were wearing. What would Tom think? That was the first question that came into your mind. This was the outfit you truly wanted to wow him in. Everything in that moment from the ‘Ready?’ to the ‘Three, two, one,’ seemed to blur together and you were back on the runway.

“She loves when everybody's watching!” You reached where Niall was on the runway and let him spin you before continuing on your path to the end. “She knows the way her body moves!” You moved your hips to the beat as you walked, the crystal accents sliding across your skin making you remember what exactly you were wearing. You reached the end of the runway and to calm your nerves you again found Tom in the crowd. “She loves the way they all crawl back when she says that she loves nobody else but you!” You blew a kiss and winked at your boyfriend before making your way back up the runway for the end of the show.

<><><>

“Oh it was amazing!” You laughed tucked into Tom’s side at the after party. You were dressed in a pair of shorts and one of Tom’s hoodies. You were exhausted and had just showed up to the party because you didn��t have an excuse to leave early when Tom was filming in New York. All you wanted to be was be back in the apartment tou and Tom were renting and be able to surprise him with one of the outfits you were able to take home. He had no idea you were able to take three home and you had to find out from Harrison which was his favorite.

“You looked amazing!” One of the girls spoke up and everyone nodded in agreement.

“The most important question though is what did Tom think she looked most amazing in,” all of the eyes at the table in the club now moved to your boyfriend. You shifted nervously in his lap and Tom just shrugged.

“I think it was the first one!”

“Are you kidding me it was totally the babydoll!”

“No the fantasy bra! Or the Spider-Man themed one!”

“Yes the Spider-Man! Poor Tom looked like he was going to die,” one of the other models spoke up. “Like that face he made,” everyone started laughing but you felt Tom’s grip on your waist tighten. He wasn’t happy and you were going to pay.

“Oh he usually does, always so shocked, like a deer in headlights,” you looked up at Tom who didn’t look amused and wanted to swallow the words you just said. His eyes had their classic ‘you’re in trouble’ look and he quickly pulled your phone out of you bag and discreetly called his own. That was one of his classic moves to get out of a situation he didn’t want to be in. You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend as he acted like nothing was going on.

“Oh shit,” he said quietly getting up and walking away to ‘answer his phone’ that started ringing. He looked nervous as you heard him litter a ‘hello’. Who did you ever think dating an actor was a good idea again?

Once Tom was out of ear shot and was ‘talking’ on the phone your friends finally spoke up. “He’s totally wrapped around your finger,” one of the other models said with a smile.

“Definitely,” one of the other girls said before turning to Harrison who was sliding his phone back into his pocket. “So which was his favorite?” You eyed your friend carefully waiting for his response.

“Oh the babydoll definitely,” he responded with a smirk before Tom walked back over, a sad look on his face. Who was sick this time?

“It’s my mum princess, she’s pretty sick,” oh this boy. “Dad said she woke up and was shaking and she’s just waiting to see if the fever goes down or if she has to go to Hospital,” what a great story. You forced your self to look concerned before hearing another voice.

“Oh no,” Harrison was playing into the game now, you knew you saw him check his phone when Tom was gone. Harrison usually helped Tom in these situations, and you usually hated his for a few days afterwards.

“We should get going back to the hotel Incase we have to go home on short notice, so we can everything packed,” you nervously nodded and told your friends goodnight before Tom wrapped an arm around your waist and leaned into your ear. “You’re gonna have a long night princess,” he led you to the car and on the short ride back to the hotel the two of you ddint exchange any words and you say rather far away from Tom hoping that he wouldn’t push you in public. The lobby to your apartment building was empty and Tom led you to the elevator and allowed the doors to close before crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing you carefully. “Ten minutes, and the I’m up in our room,” you nodded as the doors opened to your penthouse and scurried off to your room. What was it going to be this time.

Tagging a few mutals

@beautiful-holland @a-singleboat @chrisalicious @hollandlovely @the-claire-bitch-project

[ovpuntiopie1989-blog]

Vibrio bacteria are pretty ubiquitous in the world's oceans, but there are freshwater species, too you've probably heard of cholera, the disease brought to you by the freshwater Vibrio cholerae, which infects millions of people worldwide each year, especially in developing countries. A V. Cholerae outbreak after the 2010 earthquake in Haiti killed an estimated 10,000 people, and in Yemen an ongoing cholera epidemic has infected over a million people and killed 2,000 and counting. When you change your address you'll lose access 정읍출장샵 to informed delivery for last address too. 4 points submitted 9 days agoSpring Box I overall not that into this box. None of the items excite me in terms of something I really wanted or wanted to try and having the things here in my hands, I still not that excited. So Activision has secretly added Loot Boxes to BO4. It is now a $60 game, with a $50 season pass, that also has a battle pass you can buy tiers on, direct purchases in game, and now supply drops. Seriously, stop buying Activision's Games people. The diamond was recut in 1673, creating a smaller 67.125 carat stone. The original stone weighed about 995 carats. Its original size is said to have been 787.50 carats, but it was cut to just 280 carats. Although I could afford the approx. $600 surgery, it would be really strain my finances for a few months. Obviously I would never put my finances before Nova life, but combined with the risk, it another reason why I like to avoid an unnecessary or unhelpful surgery.. Assassins Creed Odyssey I just started this and I been playing it pretty casually while on a small break from rdr2. I been enjoying it but I found it was a bit difficult to go from God of War to this game, 정읍출장샵 it feels like a step back with controls to me. Still enjoying it overall though!. At this point, everyone photoshops. No one has poreless skin. They just don't. Ok, so can we quit with the climate change/global warming bullshit already. Cant we call it what it really is. I mean seriously you have all read/studied these phenomenons before is your history classes ( if they still teach that shit anymore. Training to be a geisha takes about as long as it takes to train to be a doctor. Typically, a young woman spends about six years studying the arts of music, dance, tea ceremony, language and hostessing. During this time, and sometimes throughout her career as a geisha, she lives in the okiya, which is something like a boarding house for geisha and geisha trainees. In NDG specifically, La Louisiane is pretty reliable "nice date night or place you go with your parents" fare. Crab cakes, etc. Gia Ba is good Szechuan on Monkland, and Olive et Citron (also on Monkland) is supposed to be great Greek. Its been 6 months with no help now. I refuse to ask for help because i dont want me or my daughter to be a burden to anyone. Yes i expect a 2 month old baby to have priority over a man child getting a tube in his penis for 10 seconds. And hopefully something bad will happen to me or my children or my wife so that I will not be be here and testify. That what his hope was to intimidate me. And I want to thank everybody that joined and said is just not right. Getting a PAK is hard, getting a real all time kill is NOT (maybe you confusing stuff), also let not forget RV got several PAKs recently so that SM excuse is not gonna work with me. And being 1 on Melon on the first days is not something to brag about when you EXO lmao. If you 1 after 2 3 weeks maybe, but now? Please, that embarrasing.

[gyrlversion]

British actress had sex with Warner boss ‘because she fancied him’

The text from billionaire film financier James Packer to his girlfriend, British actress Charlotte Kirk, could not have been clearer. ‘I have the opportunity of a lifetime for u,’ it read. ‘Come to [the hotel] Bel Air now. You will never be able to repay me.’ He was promising to introduce her to ‘the most important man you will ever meet’.

Small-town dreams have always been at the beck and call of Tinseltown’s money and power, and Charlotte, then 21, didn’t hesitate. The film boss to whom she was to get a golden introduction that night was one of Hollywood’s biggest names – Kevin Tsujihara, chairman and CEO of Warner Bros.

She spent an hour with the two men in Packer’s suite in the Bel Air, sharing industry gossip. Before she left, she exchanged phone numbers with Tsujihara, setting in motion a sex-for-auditions scandal which has detonated just as communications giant AT&T completes a £63 billion takeover of Time Warner.

Tsujihara, 56, is under investigation and has had to apologise publicly to every one of his employees as well as, one assumes, his wife.

British actress Charlotte Kirk (pictured) became involved with Warner boss Kevin Tsujihara 

Charlotte has been portrayed as a modern-day Becky Sharp, the Vanity Fair heroine who cynically uses her looks and charm to secure advancement. The Hollywood casting couch looks as rumpled as ever and accusations of extortion, blackmail, lying and hypocrisy have all followed.

Most toxic of all is industry speculation that the undoubted charms of Charlotte were used as a sweetener for a £350 million film deal Packer’s company was doing with Warner. (Denials by all parties have done little to quell this gossip.)

Until now, Charlotte has publicly protected Tsujihara and her own reputation by denying anything improper passed between. Today, however, she admits they did become lovers after an evening drinking Grey Goose martinis in a West Hollywood boutique hotel. That was in February 2014 and they met up for a second time before the incipient affair fizzled out.

There is speculation that Charlotte’s charms were used as a ‘sweetener’ for boyfriend James Packer’s £350 million film deal

It would have remained their private business but for the fact that a sensational string of texts covering a three-year period from 2014 to 2017 have been published by The Hollywood Reporter.

Their contents – the actress asking for help to get auditions, Tsujihara agreeing, Packer and his business partner Brett Ratner trying to help him back out and keep Charlotte quiet – serve to drag the actress, the movie boss, the billionaire financier and his partner into an imbroglio from which no one emerges well.

‘It was not casting-couch sex,’ says Charlotte, 26, and back in London preparing to shoot a new movie. ‘Kevin might have thought I was on his casting couch but my sense of self-worth is such that I thought I was just having sex with a man I fancied. Like any normal women, I kept on good terms and in touch afterwards.

‘Hollywood pivots on helpful friends. You can talk to someone differently after you have been intimate with them. There is a connection. You don’t say, “Get me a role”, but you expect openness and honesty when you have been lovers and you expect them to be there for you as a friend. In my case, that meant him potentially directing me towards auditions, helping me get into the room.

‘Whatever work I got from an audition would be on my own professional acting ability and merit.’

Charlotte’s career was indeed flourishing with roles in blockbuster movies Ocean’s 8 with Cate Blanchett and Sandra Bullock and How To Be Single alongside Dakota Johnson and Rebel Wilson.

‘If I’d been a man I would have had a pat on the back,’ she says. ‘Instead, because I am a young woman, I am accused of being a slut and a conniving, calculating one at that. Women like powerful men. Power is attractive – anyone who doesn’t believe that needs to look at the history of Hollywood or politics or big business. I liked Kevin, there was chemistry.

The leaked text messages included the actress asking Kevin Tsujihara (right) for help to get auditions, and James Packer (left) and his business partner Brett Ratner (centre) trying to help him back out and keep Charlotte quiet

‘Los Angeles is full of very talented people working in bars, not in front of cameras. They are never discovered, sadly. Luck plays a part in making it. So does timing. The stars have to be aligned.’

However, it’s clear that by September 2014, the studio boss was becoming evasive.

‘I value myself, I have sufficient confidence in who I am to think I shouldn’t not matter to someone else, however wealthy and powerful they are. I did not come this far’ – she means from her working-class Kent roots – ‘to be treated as though I’m disposable as a friend.’

It’s hard to square this sense of self-worth with a young woman who admits she’s turned on by older, powerful men undoubtedly in a position to advance her career.

What’s more admirable is that, having had choices she squared with her own conscience made explosively public, she has chosen not to hide behind the MeToo movement and fake a victimhood that she clearly does not feel. ‘That would cheapen all the men and women who have genuinely been exploited. That’s not me. I had a relationship with Kevin because I wanted to.’

‘Hollywood pivots on helpful friends. You can talk to someone differently after you have been intimate with them. There is a connection. You don’t say, “Get me a role”, but you expect openness and honesty,’ says Kirk

There are perhaps three elements at work which help explain this almost reckless honesty – most notably seen in her heartfelt texts, many of which she now regrets.

First, Charlotte is on the autistic spectrum, having been diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome when she was six. She doesn’t think before she speaks and she doesn’t do social nuance, either face to face or verbally. She believes what she is told and has rigid expectations.

‘I don’t use it as an excuse but I guess it might explain some things,’ she says ruefully.

Second, she’s been slugging it out in Hollywood since she arrived there as an Italia Conti-trained hopeful aged just 19. Her mother is a carer, her father an electrician. She was raised in Bexley and only turned to drama as a way of helping her cope with her Asperger’s. She remains determined to make it in Hollywood. ‘They [Packer, Ratner and Tsujihara] may be rich and powerful but they massively underestimated me,’ she says.

Third, and most curiously, was Charlotte’s genuine relationship with Packer, the son of Australian media tycoon Kerry Packer now perhaps best known for his failed engagement to singer Mariah Carey.

By Charlotte’s account, theirs was a full-blown seven-month romance which, when it ended, broke her heart. The night she received the Bel Air text from Packer, it came at a time when he was returning her calls and messages less frequently.

She was just 20 when she met him at an industry party where Warren Beatty was the VIP guest. Packer, more than twice her age, called her the next day and in a scene straight from the Pretty Woman playbook, said he wanted to take her shopping. ‘You can have whatever you want,’ he told her. ‘Cars, clothes…’ Soon they were on Rodeo Drive, LA’s most prestigious shopping street.

He bought his date a £50,000 diamond-encrusted Rolex she admired and would have bought more but, Charlotte says, she stopped him.

A week later she became Packer’s girlfriend and spent many happy hours with him in the Bel Air. ‘It was a proper relationship, I wasn’t hidden away, we were cosy together, lying on the bed watching a movie and sharing a bag of Haribos,’ she says. Their pet name for each other was Boo. This is the hinterland to that ‘opportunity of a lifetime’ text which came within days of Packer and Ratner, a producer and director with major credits on films such as Leonardo DiCaprio’s The Revenant and Johnny Depp’s Black Mass, concluding their deal with Warner.

‘That was my Cinderella story. I loved James. I thought we had a future. Since when was Cinders criticised for running off with her prince?’ she says. It’s telling, however, that when Packer met a woman he really did want to spend the rest of his life with – Carey – he presented her with a £10 million 35-carat diamond engagement ring.

Kevin Tsujihara (pictured) apologized to WarnerMedia staff on Friday after his alleged affair with British actress Charlotte Kirk was exposed

Back then, Charlotte was scrabbling on the foothills of fame with appearances in some films that she admits she’d be happy to forget. But she had also enjoyed other more substantial projects, including a Bruce Willis movie, before she encountered Tsujihara.

After her split from Packer, Charlotte was free to network as she chose with Tsujihara: he was married but she was unattached.

She was saddened by the end of her relationship and believed herself to be on the rebound. Her texts to Tsujihara, though, do not make for savoury reading: ‘You’re very busy I know but when we were in that motel having sex u said u would help me and when u just ignore me like you are doing now it makes me feel used. Are u going to help me like u said?’

His response – ‘Sorry you feel that way, [an executive] will be reaching out to you tonight’ – suggests he was initially keen. There are many others between them, ranging from flirty to demanding. There are also screeds between Charlotte and Packer and Ratner, with both demanding that she stopped asking for Tsujihara’s help. Some appear to show Charlotte complaining she’d been used as ‘the icing on the cake’ for the finance deal between the trio, saying ‘It’s gross what you all did to me.’

Today she says she does not believe this to be true. ‘I don’t recognise some of the texts and I believe they may have been doctored. Certainly, they have been chosen and weaponised for their lascivious value and taken out of context. I said some stupid things. Everyone speaks in the heat of the moment and says stuff they don’t mean. You say something face to face and it’s gone – in a text it is there for ever.

‘I might have felt used at the time but I don’t now. Not at all. I was sad it ended badly. I did not pick a fight but I had to fight when one was brought to me. I was not intimidated or embarrassed and my real regret is that those friendships turned out be fragile.’ Indeed they did, with Packer eventually telling her: ‘Get back in your box.’

The key question is who released the texts which hurt Charlotte and must surely threaten Tsujihara’s ascendancy within the new power structure at Warner Media. She adamantly claims they were stolen from her phone by a former friend who knew of her relationships with Packer and Tsujihara and betrayed her. Industry sources suggest she leaked them herself in a headline-grabbing act of vengeance, but she says: ‘I didn’t. That would have been an act of supreme self-sabotage.’

The texts emerged in 2017, but Tsujihara denied them. They surfaced again a year later but an inquiry revealed no sign of misconduct. Now the executive has been forced to admit ‘mistakes in his personal life and embarrassment to the company’. Last night, a Warner spokesman said: ‘As far as any personal details relating to Mr Tsujihara, we wouldn’t comment.’

Charlotte said: ‘This was a regrettable period when I was young and naive. I’m a professional and I work tirelessly to improve my craft.’

She has just finished shooting Nicole And O J, a movie about O J Simpson, in which she has the lead female role. She is also developing a writing career and will soon start filming a movie called The Reckoning with British Game Of Thrones director Neil Marshall.

‘It’s about an innocent woman being persecuted for being a witch,’ says Charlotte. ‘Talk about ironic.’

Sensational texts with a film backer 

After meeting Tsujihara in early 2014, Charlotte texts Packer: ‘His [sic] not very nice. He just wants to ****, nothing else, does not even want to say anything!’

March 2014, Tsujihara to Charlotte: ‘I’ve got a dinner in santa monica next Thursday night – u want to meet up after?? We’re also beginning to cast some cable tv pilots.’

September 2014, Charlotte to Tsujihara: ‘So your going to speak with Richard [Hollywood producer Richard Brener]?’

October 2014, Charlotte to Packer: ‘Putting me in one of your many movies shouldn’t be a big deal… I did help u out with Kevin which was hard for me but I did it for you.’

When Charlotte then threatened legal action, Packer replied: ‘Can’t wait tough girl… Get back in your box or let’s fight.’

March 2015, Charlotte to Tsujihara: ‘When we were in that motel having sex u said u would help me and when u just ignore me – it makes me feel used.’ 

The post British actress had sex with Warner boss ‘because she fancied him’ appeared first on Gyrlversion.

from WordPress https://www.gyrlversion.net/british-actress-had-sex-with-warner-boss-because-she-fancied-him/