#french waltz perfume

[bluejeans777]

a brand by

le Fleur*

[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE TOO SWEET FOR ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: @avis-writeshq says -

HELLO HELLO jumping on your 2k celebration reqs because 2K OMG SO DESERVED ‼️🫶

may i perhaps request a spencer reid x fem!reader fic please 🥹 maybe him post prison w new reader and she follows him around everywhere because she’s just instantly enamoured to him 🤭

thank you so so much lovely and congrats again !!!

Description: thirteen years in the fbi and ten weeks in prison does a number on Spencer, only when he arrives back in the office he meets the sunshine rookie that seems rather taken with him.

word length: 2.6k (this really ran away from me)

warnings: post-prison Reid, slightest age gap, Spencer dealing with coming home from prison, gun shooting?

authors note: hozier’s new song 'Too Sweet' + post-prison reid is a need, not a want.

He smelled her french vanilla perfume before he even knew she was there. But then again, it was all he could smell the minute she waltzed into the office with a tray of coffee, like someone had stuck a sweet dessert in the oven and baked it on full. 

“Good morning!” She chirped, winding an arm over his shoulder and setting down a take out cup and a little chocolate donut on his desk, “Pen said you like chocolate, and I mean who doesn’t like chocolate, right?” 

She was potent when she was so close to him, and in one single breath he caught a whiff of her shampoo, before she had flitted over to her side of the desk that sat opposite his, where Morgan once sat. Noticing his hesitance, mistaking it for discontent she paused, almost spilling her own beverage over the potted plant she kept by her keyboard, scrambling to set it on the surface.

“Y-you do like chocolate right? I mean they had strawberry too, I can switch yours with JJ’s, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind-” She splurged, and her face was much too worried considering it was a matter of a donut, particularly considering he was already eying up the way the thick chocolate was melting in the pastry bag.

“Chocolate is great, I love…” He held up the bag to read the label with squinting hazel hues, “Cocoa Caramel delight,”

He had never heard of it.

He had never even seen this brand, but he wanted to quell her nerves even in the slightest. The BAU didn’t have the funds for a new keyboard, let alone time to send her to the ER if she ended up spilling her coffee over her hand. 

She seemed convinced, and he offered her a small smile, not exactly his most enthusiastic, but then again he hadn’t been much of a morning person since he’d come out of prison. He liked quiet, he liked a moment to himself before Penelope called them into the round table for briefing. But she was sweet, too sweet perhaps for the dark nature of their job. 

He could already see it chewing up her perky disposition and spitting her right back out within a year. It happened to the best of them.

But she smiled back at him, a million watt grin that made him think maybe he was being a little cruel. She was still brand new, still trying to make friends and he remembered how hard he tried when it had been his first few weeks on the team. He turned his gaze away from her in shame, reading the way she’d written his name on the cup in a pink sharpie, framing it with two doodle hearts. 

She all but skipped away, sensing he didn’t feel like talking much anymore, and he heard Emily exclaiming she was ‘A caffeine angel sent from the heavens,’ as she handed her the drink. He watched her braided hair disappear down the hall as she bounced over to Penelope’s lair. 

He picked at the cocoa caramel delight with a kind of self loathing he was familiar with, the french vanilla still a saccharine sugar in his nose. 

-

She caught him again; though this time he felt her bristle past his arm, watching the bullets pierce the target paper with an accuracy that only came from fourteen years of practice. 

“Do you reckon you could teach me how to do that?” Her cadence was light and airy, and he had to stop himself from jumping, from slamming the butt of the gun into her nose on reaction, because he knew she meant well, even though she had no idea how damaged he was.

He was still out of sorts from having to look over his shoulder at every second of the day, and he was surprised he was holding it together so far. He supposed shooting the shit out of a target helped.

Because it was just her, looking at him with soft eyes and a smile that could start wars, and he knew she had no idea the effect she had on the walls he’d tried so hard to build in prison. 

She must have mistook his look for annoyance, because she was quick to fumble with her own loaded gun, taking a step back in retreat, worried that she crossed some line she didn’t know he’d drawn.

“Or I could get Luke to show me, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just am really a shit shot and I know that’s pretty useless in the field-” It wasn’t until he flicked the safety on and took a step to follow her did she look at him again hopefully. 

“No, I’d be more than happy to show you,” He cleared his throat, setting his pistol in its holster and stepping behind her as she lined herself up for the fake body meant to resemble an unsub, “We all have to start somewhere. Show me your form,” 

She raised her arms up in front of her, aiming for a few seconds for the spot in the centre of the chest cavity, her finger reaching up for the trigger. 

She shot once, her face hardened for the first time he’d ever seen, and they both watched the paper rip about half a foot down the unsub’s leg. 

“See, in my head it’s hitting dead centre and then by the time I shoot it’s wiggling all over the place,” She explained, scratching her neck and frowning at the paper body, “I don’t suppose unsubs are willing to stand still and wait while the rookie figures out her shot,”

“Your hips are perfect, wide stance means you get more stability against the ricochet,” She tried not to simper at his words, or the way he sidled up behind her, his hands coming up to her shoulders as if he’d known her for years, as if JJ hadn’t told her how much he hated other people’s germs, “It’s in your shoulders you’re losing balance, try relaxing a little,”

But she couldn’t not when he was breathing down her neck, rubbing those long fingers over her shoulder blades trying to get her to straighten out her posture, hoping he couldn’t feel the way her chest rattled with nerves. 

“Relax,” He reminded, trying not to chuckle when he felt her shake her arms out as a means of hiding the way her skin had warmed under his rough touch, “You know, my unit chief taught me how to shoot. I wasn’t at all good at it when I first started,”

“Oh really?” She asked, her breaths feather light as he reached around her and adjusted her grip on the gun, “H-he must have been a good teacher,”

“He was the best,” Spencer agreed, brushing off the fact she was all but putty beneath his hands, “Three steps for the perfect shot; front sight, trigger press, follow through. Always keep your head forward, always keep your dominant finger ready, and wait until you’ve shot to drop your stance,” 

She looked up at him in admiration, and her soft smile was back as his own musk of laundry detergent and chamomile soap encompassed her as his arms did. 

He brought one of those big hands to the back of her head, moving her with gentle ease to look back at the target, a slight chuckle in his voice as he spoke: “Focus, what’s step number one?”

“Front sight,” She echoed him, fixing her shoulders with determination as he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. Taking a deep breath, she murmured to herself under her breath the next step as her forefinger rested over the trigger. She pulled it after a moment of courage, and froze in spot as she watched it hit where the stomach would sit. 

Not a perfect shot, but certainly a lot better than she had been doing. 

Her eyes widened behind the thick protective glasses, and her hands became fists above her head as she squealed in delight. 

“Did you see that- did you see!” She yelled over the sound proof ear muffs they both wore, and he was quick to grab the gun out of her swinging arms, clicking the safety on for her before she could end up blowing a hole in the ceiling. 

“Very good, give it a few months you’ll be a natural,” He complimented with a smile as she clapped her hands in glee, buzzing on the spot as if she’d chugged five energy drinks or doubled up on her coffee for the day. 

He tried ignoring the way his chest warmed seeing her so happy because of him, especially when she looked at him like that. 

--

“You said you needed those files, Dr Reid,” She’d appeared again, like she always did, and he had barely enough time to glance up from the paper he was already inspecting before he was hit by the perfume again, and he looked up to see two bright eyes watching him hopefully. Her arms were piled high with easily a box full of folders he had asked Anderson to find for him, and he saw the way she strained slightly to keep them held tight. 

“Jesus! Let me help you,” She prayed he couldn’t feel the way her heart thumping against the manilla folders as he leaned over to take them out of her grasp, the way her eyes fell to his light smattering of facial hair as his lips were little more than a few inches from hers. Even when his hands brushed hers, and he seemed to realise she was staring, watching her scramble to look somewhere else other than his amused eyes, embarrassed he’d caught her, “Thankyou. And just call me Spencer,” 

“Thankyou,” She echoed, shaking her head with a girlish smile on her face, her cheeks warm with humiliation, “I mean you’re welcome, any time,” 

For the sake of her self preservation he waited until she turned around to smile to himself, pretending he didn’t see the way she muttered under her breath, or that she almost walked straight into the filing cabinet on her hasty exit out of the office. 

“Seems like you have a shadow,” Emily’s voice met him as he heard her heeled footsteps approach, and they both watched their newest team mate almost bump right into JJ as she kept her head down, stroking her hair nervously, “She was super excited to meet you when you were away, said she went to one of your guest lectures you did with Hotch a couple years ago,”

His brows shot into his hairline, something warm flourishing in his chest when he saw her peek back to see the two of them watching her, and she immediately darted for her seat for an excuse to turn her back to them. 

Spencer smiled again, running a hand through his curled locks as if he was trying to think of something else other than the joy that had over come his features. 

She certainly was charming, in an incredibly girlish way, and he wasn’t the only one who thought it. He hadn’t heard Penelope giggling so much since Morgan had left, nor did he miss the way Rossi and Emily watched her darting around in the field, chasing after her as if she needed one of those leashes people had for toddlers.

Or the way Luke had had to talk her out of bringing a stray cat back to the BAU just two days ago because ‘it looked sad and lonely’. 

She was only eight years his junior, and yet he felt like the job had made him too hard, too mature, too tough against a softness like hers.

Girls had never really been interested in him, at least not for him as Spencer Reid, not as SSA Dr Reid. He had the occasional fling, even Maeve in the grand scheme of things had been a budding romance at best, and just the thought of Cat Adams viper-like eyes had him shuddering. 

He barely wanted anything to do with women at the moment, at least that was what he’d told himself every night he’d been fighting for his damn life in prison. 

But it was almost too easy to feel this way about her, like he couldn’t drink in her sweet smell or even sweeter voice fast enough, or bathe in her gaze that melted like rich chocolate when he took a glance her way. 

He didn’t bring it up with her until they were the last few people filing out of the office. 

“I can drive you,” She chirped, almost dropping the contents of her bag everywhere as she rooted for her car keys, and before he could protest, because it was like all he could see now was how eager to be around him she was and he wasn’t too sure he could keep himself from opening pandora’s box, she jingled her keys, that of course had crochet bluebells hanging from them and all but danced past him into the elevator. “Come on, you can have shotgun,” 

“I’ll be the only passenger, doesn’t that mean I automatically have shotgun?” He asked, following behind her as she stood in the elevator with a beaming smile, her finger clicking the ground floor button a bunch of times even though it made no difference how fast the doors closed. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s going to be the best shotgun you’ve ever had. I’m talking you can be Miss Daisy and I’ll be your Morgan Freeman,” And as if her spirit was infectious, he shook his head with a hidden chuckle.

There was a minute of silence between the two as she played with a loose thread on her cardigan, and it was then he took the chance to ask her the question that had been burning on his lips all day. 

“You didn’t by any chance go to University of Pennsylvania, did you?” Spencer asked, noting the way her eyes fell to the floor and how she licked her lips nervously.

“Yeah,” She replied cautiously, fingers clenched tightly around her keyring, “I know it’s not Caltech, but it was pretty good-”

“Didn't you see my lecture with Hotch?” He asked, and his smile widened tenfold when her hands slapped over her cheeks that burned with horror, moving quickly up to cover her eyes, “Little birdy told me you were quite excited to meet me-”

“Oh, Emily,” She groaned, burying her face in her palms, avoiding his teasing expression like the plague, “I knew, I knew she was going to tell you, I’m surprised she didn’t tell JJ first, unless she did and our whole team know I was some crazy girl who liked the FBI agents so much she switched her major,” 

“You switched your major for me?” He asked incredulously and he only laughed harder, one of the first times since he’d come home, when she groaned louder, turning away from him entirely. 

“Shut up, I did not swap my major for you,” She bit back, and she finally met his gaze, her expression an embarrassed wince, “I just… liked the material. You were very compelling,”

“Did you have a poster of us?” Spencer wanted to stop teasing, knew he was being a little cruel, but how could he resist when she shrieked in between laughter, shoving his shoulder with mortification.

“No,”

“Did you kiss Hotch’s picture before bed like an obsessive fangirl?” 

She gestured to him vulgarly as they left the elevator and headed for the car park, and it made a huge difference to the usual adoration she watched him with, but maybe, he thought, it made him like her even more. 

“No more shotgun for you, you’re going in the trunk like an old rug,” She snapped, though he could tell she was still horrified by the way she avoided his delighted hazelnut gaze. 

“Like an old rug?” He feigned hurt, but when they sat in her car, she finally looked over at him with something vulnerable and yet affectionate, like he’d seen her for all she was worth. He reached over the console to squeeze her hand gently, not missing the way her palm clammed beneath his and she struggled for words, so he continued for her, “That’s really no way to talk to your idol, you know,” 

Spencer swore his chest felt lighter than it had in months watching her laugh like that.

[leclsrc]

Hello!! May I request a charles leclerc fluff drable where he's like always staring at y/n (in a non-creepy way hehe) and like just has a big crush on her even when they're dating already type of thing? or something? tysm!

something – cl16

Looking can be so similar to loving—just ask Charles.

auds here... title from this. also i feel it is the one of the best ‘so enamored ur moving in slow mo’ songs...

A blue dress. Deep blue, satin, wrapped around your figure like you’re a dream that’s his.

There are moments where Charles’ world slows when he sees you, and this is one of them, a year into dating. Suddenly he feels like he’s a teen seeing his first racing car, or a kid seeing Star Wars all over again. Nothing else matters but this—but you, in this deep blue dress, your arms swinging around as you dance to the upbeat music that plays at this dinner party.

Someone’s clutched your hand and twirled you around, so quick your hair falls over your face. He wants to pick you up, let his hands wring around your waist and hug you close, close, closer. He wants to wipe the hair from your face, press a kiss to your cheek, then your nose, then your lips, taste the martini there, smell the sea and the two spritzes of perfume on your jaw.

You move in slow motion, every ripple of your dress, every tendril of hair over your eyelashes. You’re laughing, tipsy, when your friend hugs you close, moving the both of you into a shitty waltz. Jesus, you’re so pretty. 

“Charles!” You’re saying. He blinks, and your eyes are meeting his, smiling with the rest of your face. The French summer has tinged your cheeks with the heat, your left shoulder peeling with a sunburn. Even now in the evening, when it hides, it’s managed to follow you still, blinding and beautiful. An arm stretches out, a hand, then a finger. Come on, you’re saying, dance with me!

It’s your favorite song that’s playing, some disco tune that has you hopping excitedly, hips swaying in the kind of way he can’t ever get his eyes off of. He knows this because it’s one of the ones at the top of his Spotify statistics, what with how often you’re using his phone to launch impromptu dance parties while cooking or cleaning or driving. 

So he does, gets up from where he’s been sitting while everyone else dances. He’d been undoing his tie, then two buttons on his polo, nursing Scotch (between you both, you like to say, he’s the boring drinker and you’re the fun one.) You shimmy your shoulders when his hand locks with yours, a smile stretching onto your face when he pulls you close and wraps the same arm around your waist. The song hasn’t yet reached its crescendo, so you sway softly, smiling like idiots.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes lidded from the alcohol and the feeling of being this near you.

“Hey there, handsome. Here often?”

“Just passing by, actually.” He pauses. “I saw a beautiful girl from the entrance and couldn’t help myself.”

You laugh, letting him twirl you as the chorus begins, both of you moving to the ever-familiar beat of this song and using the same moves you use at home, when it’s just the two of you. That’s exactly how it feels, though: like it’s just you both, dancing and laughing. When he finally moves your hair aside and presses a kiss to your lips, the world slows all over again. 

—

His world whirs into slow motion when Pascale is laughing at one of your jokes.

“I’m funnier than your son,” you say when she’s wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. Across the brunch table, finger tapping against the white linen tablecloth, Charles’ eyes are stuck on you. Nobody notices his stare of adoration, because it’s so usual, so ordinary, for him to be looking at you so intently, and with so much love.

You’re wearing a white dress that you’d been wiping your palms over nervously in the car, asking him to repeat a crash course of his family over and over until it was the only thing your mind was capable of retaining. Yet for all your nerves, you’d blended in exceptionally well with everyone at the table, over salmon and pasta and tea and biscuits.

Pascale had ushered you in with the urgency of every mother, a hand around your shoulder, pointing out members of the family, fixtures on the wall. There’s a story behind everything. Behind stains, scratches, pictures, peeled-off labels. You’d let her tell you everything. 

A smile makes its way onto your face when you see Pascale fail to stop laughing over your joke, her hand clenching yours. Your eyes meet his, and he can see the excitement in them—the joy of having this happen. He hopes you can read him equally well, hopes you can see how excited he is, too, for this to be happening, for you to be so loved by the people that matter most to him.

A hand comes up to tuck hair behind your ear, lips pursing to prevent your smile from widening. No, he wants to say, I want to see you smile. Everything. Show me everything. You’re beautiful.

“You really are,” says Pascale, and the two of you turn to smile softly at him. This is love, he thinks, and he wishes time never quickens ever again.

—

The book this week is Love in the time of Cholera. You try to read one book every two weeks, but lately you’ve been forgetting—last night you’d firmly resolved to start again, and you’re hooked on the words already.

The thin blanket of your bed is the only thing shielding you from the cold, your bare back turned to him as you continue to read the chapter. Charles sees you and wishes he was half as good as you. You’re stupid, you’d said with genuine concern when he told you this once. Have you even seen yourself? And you praised him, listed every last amazing thing about him.

Still, he wasn’t convinced. There may have been awards and videos and celebrations for him, but he wishes he was good enough for you sometimes. Your intelligence, your wit, your beauty. Your ability to get up and read a book in the morning. Your capacity to love. He can’t believe you’re his, all his, this beautiful girl is truly all his.

His world slows again, time ticking into slow motion as he watches you passively. Every few moments there’s the sound of the page turning, and your slow breathing makes up the rest. He wants to paint a picture on your back, make you his canvas, so he can think of another way to convey his immense, all-encompassing love for you.

Genuinely, he thinks he’d be incomplete without you. He conveys this in the way he stares, the way he admires, like you’re a sculpture in the Louvre and he’s at the front of the line. But he’s the only one in line, and he’ll be damned if somebody shows up behind him. 

You pause; the noise of the blanket rustling and your book shutting snaps Charles back to reality. Without turning, your voice penetrates the silence. “What are you doing?” With sleep and unuse, your voice is raspy.

“Looking at you.” He answers slowly.

Your eyes meet his, eyebrow raising as you turn slightly. “Why?”

“Just…” he pauses. It’s impossible to articulate why. So he says instead, “Just looking.”

—

When a race is won, reaches its climax and its end all at once, it’s a noisy affair.

Tonight, there are fireworks, music, the pulse of excitement in the crowd that celebrates Leclerc’s P1. Everything moves fast, fast, fast—interviews, cheers, arms wrapped around him, worshipping him, fans screaming. Then it’s the media pen, questions over and over, then he’s packing up, tallying points, having debriefs.

He tugs off his helmet. Everything is fast, even in his moment of winning. Fast and quick and heavy. But he seeks something, something to make time slow—

And finds her, wearing a too-big Ferrari shirt (courtesy of Joris getting the sizing all wrong) in the crowd by the pit lane, beautiful as ever. You’re waving, your enthusiasm in your whoops of encouragement. You blow a kiss, and time is slow again. He watches you grip the front of the shirt and present it proudly, the big 1-6 embedded on it. He’s yours, yes, he is.

I love you, you mouth slowly. He nods back—it’s more than enough. Then you’re making a shoo motion with your hand, decorated with bracelets that match his. Go, you’re saying, go and be the winner, be the best driver. Later, you’ll be mine, just mine, just Charles.

He’s whisked away to do an interview, but his eyes are stuck on yours, excited and proud. You never usually like watching races, out of fear, but Charles insists you do, presses a kiss to your forehead and promises everything will be okay. You end up digressing almost every time.

“I’d imagine this win is the highlight of the week,” says the journalist smugly, then extends the mic to Charles’ lips.

He shakes his head a little. “Just one of them,” he responds, smiling. 

—

A necklace with an initial on it, a thin silver ring across your middle finger, a matching bracelet on your wrist.

“Who is that?” Charles asks dazedly, shoulder bumping Carlos’. An explanation is fed into his ear, someone who knows someone knows her and invited her to attend this dinner. It’s getting late in London, and he’d been prepared to get to his car and go to his hotel, but suddenly he’s distracted, stopped in his tracks.

It almost feels weird to have time slow so much like this.

Even when he’s in a racing car, or winning, or when a car careens off track and time seems to hang in the balance—nothing has made him feel this way before. He watches you laugh, play with the neckline of your black top and listens to your ring clink against your glass of champagne.

Your hair is tied into a loose bun, framing your face, your lips making animated conversation with someobody else. He wants to hear your voice, make you smile, see how you react to his own jokes. Time crawls when he thinks of you, moves like a turtle walking through honey.

So later, when he’s almost abandoned the idea of introducing himself, he finds you clicking your car keys on the sidewalk. He clicks his, watches the lights of his Ferrari blink open, and you turn to him, smiling coyly.

You open your mouth, and say: “So you’re the cute dickhead who can’t park?”

Again, time moves in slow motion, your bun coming undone as you turn, hair falling over your back, arms crossing over your torso. Your high heels click softly against the pavement as you listen to him stutter out an introduction, an apology for the shit parking. This is it, he thinks, the start of something absolutely beautiful.

If he’s looked at you now, he thinks, he can’t ever look away. He hopes he doesn’t ever have to.

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Unpredictable, Part 2-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: Thanks for all the love on the first part! I decided to use feminine and masculine pronouns to refer to Jordan when they are in those respective forms but they/them when referring to them as a person (it'll make sense when you read it). Also, I accidentally made it a slow burn.

Warnings: Drug and alcohol use, swearing, and sensuality.

Word count: 6.6k

Series Masterlist

Getting ready to go out could be stressful but it was meditative for me. The extra care in the shower, paying more attention to how I applied lotion and other skincare to my skin, and taking my time with my makeup was like a mini therapy session. Twice’s “Moonlight Sunrise” filled my room as I carefully sprayed braid spray on sections of my scalp. When I was halfway done with my edges, my phone started buzzing.

E: Are u busy?

I quickly typed back, Kind of but what’s up?

E: Can you come by my dorm ASAP? M needs help getting ready 2 go out.

I nearly messed up my edges over her words despite my previous premonition. While the premonition did not have to come true or mean anything, the buzzing underneath my skin would not stop. Though I tried seven times, I could not get anything else about what would happen tonight.

If only you were stronger, a voice hissed in the back of my head.

It was irritating not being able to see what I wanted when I wanted but, that was a large reason I applied to Godolkin in the first place. This was the place where supes perfected their abilities, whether they got into the Seven or not.  So, with years of practice under my belt, I shoved all the thoughts deep down into my subconscious and texted Emma that I would be there in about twenty minutes.

As I was heading downstairs, Alina, and Sasha, the third and fourth most important sorority members, were laughing and talking in the foyer. They both wore white crop tops and dark jeans with wedges.

Alina spotted me first and smiled. “Y/N, looking as amazing as usual.” Her dark brown hair was flat-ironed to frame her sculpted face.

“Oh my gosh, is that a Blumarine dress?” Sasha gushed, green eyes boring into the pink ruffle halter dress I wore.

“Yes, I’m so glad that I found it when I did,” I replied.

When I finally got to face them, I somehow felt as though they were looking down on me even though I was a couple of inches taller than all of them. Their bright veneers could fool anyone and did so on a regular basis.

“Where are you off to? A date?” Alina asked.

 It was always easier to lie to them.

 “Yes, he’s taking me to that sushi place off campus I’ve been dying to try,” I affirmed.

 “Is it Andre? That would make so much sense, you’d be such a cute couple!” Alina cheered.

 Sasha stepped towards me and placed her French-manicured hand on my shoulder. “Remember, Y/N, it’s important to have fun but you are a representative of Si Chi and you must uphold everything that means no matter the setting.”

Despite the smile and warmth in her eyes, I knew that there was a viper ready to strike at any second.  

I smiled. “I would not dream of doing anything else.”

��Great. Besides, you have to use your connections wisely.” She turned and waltzed back towards her friends, the scent of her Juicy perfume fresh in my nose.

“Do you two have plans tonight?” I asked.

Alina nodded. “We’re going to meet a few of the Phi Beta Pi girls and go to a kegger at Alpha Tau.”

Sounds horrible.

“Be safe and don’t forget that you’re representatives of the house,” I called over my shoulder as I made my way out of the house.

Seconds after Emma opened the door, her face fell.

“Of course, you’re also going out with the Top Five,” she joked while letting me in.

“I can text Cate and see if it’s cool if you come,” I offered.

Emma shook her head. “No, I’ll be okay.”

I narrowed my eyes at her too-wide smile and overeager eyes. As good as she was at comedic acting, she was a horrible liar. It would have been nice if she could have come along too.

“Next time, okay?”

“Sure, if I’m not busy.” Emma flipped her blonde bob and I laughed.

Then, I turned to Marie, who was standing on the other side of the room, looking at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a pair of flared blue pants with platform boots and a gold jacket. It was something I was positive Emma wore to one of the many graduation parties she insisted on attending.

“You look good,” I complimented.

Marie jumped and turned to me, raising her eyebrows at me. “Thanks, and you look…wow, um, really good.”

My stomach flipped at her words, and I mentally shook my head as I accepted her compliment. “You look ready to me so why did you summon me, Emma?”

“Because I’m bad at makeup,” Emma deadpanned as she flopped onto her desk chair. “But, you’re good at the whole looks-like-skincare-but-glam thing.”

I turned to Marie. “You don’t need makeup, though.”

“Neither do you but, I thought I would put in a little effort,” she admitted.

“Ooh, are you trying to impress someone? Luke’s ass really is that spectacular,” Emma sang while wiggling her eyebrows.

“Shut up!” Marie yelped, eyes widening.

 I laughed at her response and she glanced at me, looking sheepish. “If you insist, come lie down.” I gestured to her bed.

Marie followed my lead and I forced myself to exhale as normal as possible as I straddled her waist. I set my makeup bag within a reachable distance and started rifling for products.

“Do you have anything on your face now?” I asked.

“Uh, soap and lotion?” Marie replied.

I almost dropped my Fenty highlighter and stared at her. “You don’t have a skincare routine?”

Marie shook her head. “Is that bad?”

“Kind of, and it’s unfair since your skin is good.” I slowly set the items I wanted on the bed and turned back to her. “What kind of look are you going for?”

“Can you make her look like Rihanna?” Emma asked.

 “I can only do so much with makeup,” I called back.

“Something like what you have would be okay. Nothing too much,” Marie requested.

“Fine, just know I can’t do the exact same thing since we have different undertones and coloring. Just relax.”

Marie nodded and closed her eyes. I zoned out a bit as I carefully applied primer and concealer to her face and dusted highlighter on her cheeks.

“So, who invited you out?” I asked as I applied a light layer of gold eyeshadow to Marie’s eyelids.

“Oh, Andre. I ran into him earlier tonight and we kind of stopped a crazy guy together,” she recounted.

“Wait, what?” I sat up and Marie opened her eyes.

“Yeah, there was this guy running around talking about not going back to the woods,” Marie explained.

“Someone was off their meds, I mean that as sensitively as possible,” Emma commented.

 “And Andre and I stopped him from hurting himself or anyone else,” Marie concluded.

 Knowing Andre, he was definitely going to brag about it for most of the night. We got along fine but his pride got the better of him sometimes.

“Well, it looks like you’re already proving you should be in crim with me,” I asserted.

 Marie smiled slowly and I urged her to lay back down so that I could finish her makeup. She nearly head-butted me when I started spraying the setting spray, but my reflexes were too quick.

 “Chill, it’s setting spray,” Emma joked.

 “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that,” Marie muttered.

 “I’ll warn you next time. But you are officially ready to go.” I slipped off her bed and pulled my strappy heels back on. “I’ll pick up my makeup bag later.”

 “Sounds good.” Emma jumped out of her chair and grabbed Marie’s hands. “Please remember to have fun because you’re not just doing this for you.”

  Marie laughed. “Okay, I’ll remember that.”

  I pulled their door open with one hand and grabbed Marie’s hand with the other. “And I’ll remember to make sure that you don’t do everything Emma would do.”

 Emma quirked a brow. “So, there’s a chance?”

 I rolled my eyes at my friend and tugged Marie into the hallway. As we walked, we passed some rooms with loud bass heavy music, and some making noises that I did not think were humanly possible. One made it hard for me to contain my laughter and I let out a snort.

 “Wow,” Marie commented.

  I apologized quickly.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for; I just didn’t think you were capable of making a noise like that.”

  As I moved to playfully nudge her, I realized that our hands were still clasped together. How long had it been, twenty or thirty seconds? That was longer than I held hands with anybody. I carefully let go of her hand.

  “My bad,” I apologized.

  “No, it’s fine,” she insisted.

   Nights like these were nice since the campus was mostly empty, save for the handful of students boldly wandering around campus inebriated. There was the occasional excited scream or cheer during our walk to the parking lot. At one point, Marie and I had to high-five some drunk guys as they rushed past.

   “Do you ever get used to it?” Marie asked.

  “The drunk kids? It’s kind of required,” I answered.

  “I mean all this stuff.” Marie gestured to the campus. “Keeping up with everything must be exhausting.”

 “I guess you’re forced to if you want to be successful here.”

  A cool breeze whipped past us, and a chill ran from the base of my spine to the rest of my body. I folded my arms over my chest in a feeble attempt to keep warm.

“You sure you don’t want to go back for a jacket?” Marie asked.

“I’ll be fine, it’s what liquor jackets are for anyway,” I replied.

 “So, what should I expect for tonight?”

“Have you ever seen a Pitbull music video?”

 “Maybe once.”

 “So that mixed with molly, coke, and whatever they have on hand.” I turned to her and noticed the frown between her eyebrows. “Hey, you’ll be great tonight, everyone’s gonna love you.”

 “Not if Jordan’s a part of it,” Marie scoffed.

 Of course, Andre did not tell her about who was coming on this night out.

 “Try not to worry about them. This could be a chance for you two to get to know each other better,” I tried.

  Marie stopped and looked at me. “They’re coming tonight?”

 “Yeah, they are number two.”

  Marie groaned. “They better not ruin my night.”

 “It’s okay, Andre already likes you, Cate and Luke will like you too, and you have me,” I said, extending an arm.

  Marie glanced at it for a moment before looping her arm through mine and we continued our walk. It was a nice, peaceful silence between us and I did not know whether I wanted to break it or relish it. At home, there was no such thing as peaceful silence; just the calm before all the cursing.

  “Hey, Y/N,” Marie started.

   I hummed in response.

  “What’s your deal with Jordan?”

  “We’re…friends, I think. Last year, I didn’t want to go near them for the longest time, but Cate invited me to train with all of them once. After that, they were nicer to me.”

   Marie nodded. “You seemed really comfortable with them.”

   “It’s really fun to mess with them.”

   Marie looked at me as if I was crazy and I grinned in response. Jordan was always wound up and they could not always rely on drugs to decompress. I could not pinpoint when I started being more playful with them since it sort of started out of nowhere. At least they were receptive.

   “Your heartbeat’s picking up,” Marie shared.

   I exhaled, “I always get anxious before social stuff, even if I know everyone who will be there.”

  “That sucks. How do you deal with it?”

   “Alcohol, when it’s available, and dancing. My mom thought dance lessons would help me build more confidence than therapy. Plus, it’s basically guaranteed to be acceptable in any setting.”

   After a few more minutes, we finally reached the parking lot and I ignored the chill on my back as we approached Luke, Cate, Andre, and Jordan. They were all standing around Luke’s car, but Jordan and Cate were passing a joint while Luke and Andre were laughing. Andre was the first to notice us and grinned.

  “Hey, you made it,” Andre greeted.

  “Yeah, Y/N is a great guide,” Marie complimented.

  Cate smiled and handed the joint back to Jordan before walking over and hugging me. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you. You look all grown up now.”

 “It’s been three months, Cate,” I laughed as I slowly pulled away from her. “I love the corset.”

 “Thanks, nice earrings,” she replied.

  “Y/N, are you trying to steal my girlfriend?” Luke teased as he approached us.

  I shook my head and couldn’t help the stupid grin that worked its way on my face. “I would never think about it.”

  His hug was a lot stronger than Cate’s, which made sense considering his ability. Despite his status, Luke was always nice to everyone, including Cate’s little mentee.

  Andre made quick work of introducing Marie to everyone and I stiffened when he got to Jordan. “Have you met Jordan?”

  Jordan narrowed his eyes at Marie. “Yeah, we’ve met.”

  “Are you going to reject me from this outing too?” she shot back.

  “Love too.”

  I wandered over to Jordan and put my hand on his shoulder. “Please play nice.”

 “I can’t promise anything,” he muttered.

 “Well, I like both of you and hope you can get along for a couple of hours.” I turned to Marie, mustering the best puppy eyes I could, and she smiled softly.

  “Fine with me.”

  Jordan rolled his eyes, agreed, and took another hit from the joint. He smirked as he extended it towards me. “What do you say, freshie?”

  “I am a year younger than you!” I griped.

  “And you’ll always be my little freshman,” he teased.

   “Anyway, a Si Chi girl would never be caught smoking or vaping.”

 “And you’re a good little Si Chi girl.”

 “I’m the secretary!”

 “As much as I hate to interrupt this,” Andre interjected, “I’d like to get the night started.”

 “How are we all gonna fit?” Marie asked as we made our way to the car.

 “We’ll make it work,” Luke replied as he slid into the front seat.

  Obviously, Cate took the front passenger seat, leaving Jordan, Andre, Marie, and me in the back. Jordan climbed in first, I followed him, Marie followed me, and Andre squeezed in last. I glanced at Marie and began pushing myself to sit on her lap when a strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me in the other direction. Seconds later, I glanced down at Jordan who eyed me expectantly.

 “Why do you look so surprised?” he teased.

 “I just thought it’d be easier if Marie and I were together,” I stated as Luke pulled out of the parking lot.

  Jordan took his time rolling down the window. Then, he took a hit and exhaled the smoke out of it. “Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

 Another shiver ran up my spine and I turned away from Jordan in time for Cate to hand me her phone, which was connected to the aux cord. As soon as I saw “Get Ur Freak On”, I hit play and handed the phone back to her.

 “Nice choice,” Andre complimented before taking a swig from his flask and handing it to me.

 I accepted the flask. “Thank you.”

 The familiar burn down my throat was almost comforting but that also could have been due to the top-shelf whiskey in the flask. When I sat up, I noticed Marie eyeing the flask in my hand curiously.

  “Want some?” I asked.

  “No, thank you,” Marie kindly rejected.

  “Did you just fail to corrupt a freshman?” Jordan rasped in my ear.  

  Reflexively, I swatted Jordan’s shoulder and assured Marie she did not have to do anything she didn’t want to. Fortunately, Andre’s whiskey helped dissolve the tension between the two, or maybe it was just my perception.

   Before I knew it, Cate wiped the host at an exclusive club downtown to give us a booth and as much champagne as we wanted. The place was as crowded as it was in my mind, filled with people, the strobe lights catching the occasional sequin or shiny suit. The music was so loud that it was hard to recognize the songs but I felt like my brain was swimming either way. When we got to our booth, Cate, Andre, and Luke sat on one side while I sat in between Marie and Jordan on the other.

   Seconds after we sat, a hostess in a tiny bandage dress set bottles of champagne and crystal flutes on our table.

  “I love your eyeliner,” I complimented as she began to walk away.

  She thanked me before disappearing into the crowd and Luke laughed.

  “How are you already drunk?” Luke asked.

  “I’m not, I’m just nice.” My argument probably would have been better if I didn’t trip over the “c”.

  “You did drink half of my flask, Y/N,” Andre pointed out.

  I opened my mouth in shock. “Well, it’s not my fault that these two,” I gestured to Cate and Jordan, “didn’t contribute.”

 Luke and Andre busted out laughing while Cate slowly rolled her eyes.

 “Leave her alone, Y/N needs to let loose,” Cate interrupted.

 “Thank you.”

  Luke must have gotten over his earlier comment since he poured three flutes of champagne and handed me one. Immediately I started sipping and giggled as the bubbles burst in my mouth. There must have been something in the air but I felt so light, like I would float away at any second.

   “Is that coke?” Marie’s voice dragged me back to the group.

   In that second, I noticed Cate hand a baggie of powder to Jordan and saw her eyes were slightly red.

    Jordan shook his head. “We did all the coke. This is molly.”

   Marie’s eyes widened and she glanced at me.

  “I can’t do uppers, messes with my powers,” I explained.

  “And we do not want a repeat of New Year’s,” Cate added.

  I bristled at the foggy memory.

  Luke leaned towards Marie. “I don’t really do hard drugs but I microdose shrooms.” He flicked the baggie for emphasis.

   Marie shook her head and smiled. “No, thanks.”

  “Aw, she’s so polite,” Jordan mocked.

  I finished my drink and pushed the flute towards Luke. “Leave her alone, she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

  The last thing I wanted was for Marie to feel pressured into doing anything with them and me by extension. However, she was comfortable enough to drink and even showed off her powers a little bit. We were all in awe when Marie made a droplet of blood from a pinprick on her finger float into a tiny ball before disappearing back into her finger.

  “That’s badass,” Andre declared with a nod as he sipped some champagne.

  “Not bad, Moreau,” Luke added.

   Cate nodded her approval before doing some more molly while Jordan stared at Marie.

   “Come on, you can say it,” I fake encouraged.

   “Fine, she’s decent,” Jordan admitted.

   I leaned my head towards him. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

   Jordan gently swatted me away and I laughed as I finished off my glass of champagne. Things were already going better than I expected. The night got even better when “American Boy” blared through the speakers.

   Immediately, I yelped as I jumped to my feet, Cate quickly joining with a mischievous smile on her face.  

   “We’ll be out there,” Cate said, gesturing to the dance floor.

    Luke quickly pecked her lips. “Have fun.”

   As I passed Marie, I grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

  She looked a little apprehensive but grinned as she followed me onto the dancefloor. It was warm and there were so many people to push past but it didn’t matter. The beat was infectious as I began to spin, arms above my head. My braids flowed around me as I tossed my head from side to side. In the middle of a spin, I felt a gloved hand grab one of my arms and pull me towards someone.

  When I opened my eyes, Cate’s big blue ones were staring back at me. Red rimmed her irises and her hands moved to my hips. We moved in time together and I couldn’t stop laughing as we did.

  “You’re welcome for saving you from that creep dancing behind you,” she yelled over the music.

  “You will always be my hero,” I gushed.

  She spun me and I giggled as I faced Marie. Marie was swaying to the music, eyes closed, but she looked blissful. My hands found hers and I pulled her to dance with me. She was not a bad dancer at all but I took the lead, swiveling my hips and bobbing my head. At one point, I wrapped my arms around her neck and hugged her.  Slowly, her arms wrapped around my waist, and I hummed at the warmth.

  Cate leaned over me. “Sorry, she’s an affectionate drunk.”

  I gasped but did not move. “I am not drunk!”

  “It’s okay,” Marie laughed.

  “Seriously, I’m not even tipsy,” I added. “I can move if you want, though.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  The pit of my stomach suddenly felt warm and fuzzy as I danced with my two friends. I closed my eyes and giggled as the champagne bubbles carried my thoughts away. Was this what it was like not to think all the time?

  “Jordan can’t take his eyes off you.” Cate’s whisper jolted me out of my reverie and I pulled away from Marie.

  “What?” I uttered.

  Cate gave me a weird look and nodded her head towards the table. My eyes wandered in that direction and Jordan was staring back at me. Andre was the only one besides him at the table and he was busy flirting with the hostess but Jordan did not look at them. His eyes were like a hawk’s and I felt like a little mouse.

  “They’re watching us dance, it’s fine!” I shouted over the music.

  Cate shook her head. “He’s not looking at all of us.”

   As much as I enjoyed dancing to the next five songs, I could not get Cate’s words out of my head. This was supposed to be my night not to think about anything, but I could feel the rumination looming.

  But there’s nothing to think about. We’re just friends if we’re anything at all and Cate’s been on this since I joined the group, I thought, squashing any others.

  Once “Like That” ended, I let Marie and Cate know I was going to take a break before making my way back to the booth and plopping down next to Jordan.

  “Having fun?” I panted.

  “Yeah, but not as much as you,” he replied.

  “You should join us next time.” I huffed as I flipped my braids over one shoulder and sat up. “Where’re the others?”

  “Luke went off somewhere and Andre is making some girls suffer through his coin trick.”  

  “And you don’t have anyone you like?”

  I thought Jordan paused but he shook his head. “No, but you’ve been entertaining me.”

  Something jolted in my chest like I’d been shocked. I had another sip of champagne to get rid of the feeling and Jordan’s silver rings caught my eyes. Slowly, my fingers slipped over the ones on his middle and right ring fingers.

  “These are pretty,” I mused.

  “Thanks.”

  As my fingers continued slipping over the rings, he moved so that we were holding hands and a chuckle escaped me.

  Jordan’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “You have man hands,” I chortled.

 “Seriously, freshie?” Jordan sighed.

 “It’s true!”

  I couldn’t stop laughing at how his hand engulfed mine, but it was comforting in a way too. It took me a minute to calm down and when I did, my eyes found Marie and Cate on the dancefloor.

  “I’m glad she came tonight,” I said.

  “Yeah, she’s really nice,” he agreed.

  “See, not all strangers are horrible.”  

  “Okay, you were right.”

  I gasped and put my free hand on my chest. “I must be really drunk because you just admitted I was right about something.”

  “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Jordan groaned.

  “I should’ve been recording because no one will ever believe that Jordan Li admitted they were wrong about something,” I cheered.

  Jordan shook his head. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

  “It’s already there.”

  I didn’t know how long I sat there, laughing and watching Marie and Cate dance. There was something fascinating about seeing Marie in the element and getting along with everyone. She seemed so…free but it was so genuine. How did she manage that?

  “Do you like her?” Jordan asked.

  I blinked and looked back at him. “Huh?”

 “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been flirting with her all night.”  “I have not! I’m being welcoming.”

  “Really, because I’ve never seen you look at anyone like you do with her.”

  “Are you jealous that I’m getting along with someone else?”

  “Why would I be jealous? You’re not going anywhere.”

  Something was off about his tone but I couldn’t put a finger on it. Why would Jordan say that? Marie was my friend and I’ve been treating her like a friend. Why would they care how I acted anyway?

  “I’m thirsty,” I declared.

 “You want me to get you water?”

 I shook my head. “I need Casamigos.”

 Jordan smiled widely. “You sure?”

 “Mmhmm.”

 Jordan stood, pulled me to my feet, and started leading me to the bar. Halfway there, they shifted into their feminine form, becoming even more adept at navigating the crowds. Once we got to the bar, she got the attention of the bartender and ordered the shots. At some point, I started bouncing on my heels as we waited.

 “Hi, Barbie,” a gruff voice sounded behind me.

 I jumped, nearly running into the bar. The man was tall and his mustard yellow suit washed out his pale skin and blonde hair. His smile was all wrong and made my stomach churn.

 “Um, hi, Planters Guy?”

 Jordan burst out laughing next to me, making the man glare at her for a second. She waved her hand in apology and turned towards the bar.

 “It’s Michael, actually, can I get your name?” he stepped closer to me.

 I opened my mouth to respond but Jordan answered.

 “She’s with me.” Her hand slowly slid to the small of my back and pulled me into her side.

 “What if I bought you a drink?” Michael offered.

 I glanced at Jordan. “Well, I guess that’s alright.”

 Jordan rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

The bartender set two trays of shots in front of us and Jordan and I each grabbed one and turned to Michael.

“Thanks for the drinks!”

 Once we got far away enough for him to hear, I burst out laughing and tried not to spill anything.

 “Works every time,” Jordan stated.

 “What am I gonna do when you graduate next year?” I mused.

 “Aw, are you gonna miss me?”

 “I’ll miss how easy it is to get free drinks with you.”

 My face warmed and I ignored the warmth in my stomach. Andre was waiting for us back at the table.

  “Jordan, why’d you change?” Andre asked curiously.

 “Makes it easier to get free drinks,” she answered.

 I plucked a shot from a tray and leaned on Jordan’s shoulder. “I appreciate them in both forms.”

 Jordan seemed to tense under the contact, and I leaned back up, wondering if I’d done something wrong. If I had, she did not act like it as she grabbed a shot and made Andre grab one.

 “Cheers to another year?” Andre suggested.

 “The year Y/N breaks into the Top Fifteen?” Jordan joked, raising an eyebrow.

 I grinned. “Who knows, maybe this is the year I take your spot.”

 “Ooh, bold, Y/N, I like it,” Andre cheered.

 “I’d be more scared if your punches didn’t feel like a kitten pawing at me.”

 “Just cheers!”

  She laughed as the three of us clinked glasses and did the shots. The tequila was smooth as it ran down my throat and I was practically buzzing as I went for the second one.

  “Whoa, are you sure you don’t want to slow down?” Jordan asked.

  “It’s fine, I ate before we went out, I’m not even tipsy,” I insisted.

  Around the third shot, Andre disappeared and by the fifth, everything was blurry, like one of my visions. I think I pouted at the thought.

  Then, the starting chords of “Standing Next to You” filled my ears and my body moved on its own, jumping to my feet.

  “Oh my gosh, they’re playing Jungkook, we have to dance!” I yelled.

 “Okay, calm down,” she said, setting down her glass and letting me pull her onto the dancefloor.

  My body kept moving on its own, body rolling and feet shimmying. The song was entrancing and I was lost in it, singing as well as I could. Jordan spun me a couple of times before pulling me closer and I laughed as I wrapped my arms around her neck.

   I couldn’t remember the last time I was this close to Jordan. She had such pretty features but her eyes were amazing, like molten pools of dark chocolate.

  “Thanks.”

  I gasped and clamped my hand over my mouth. “Oh my gosh.”

  “It’s cute, you like my eyes?”

  “Stoooop,” I whined.

  “Oh no, I’m never letting this go,” she teased.

  In that moment, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole, but I did not get what I wanted. Instead, Jordan’s hands pulled me flush against them, fingers tapping against my hips.

  “Come on, you were so bold a second ago,” she whispered.

  “That was different,” I muttered.

  “But I want to know what else my little freshman likes about me.”

   Their mocking tone made my body heat rise and I did not know how to stop it. Even in their feminine form, Jordan was stronger than me and it would take a lot of effort to get out of their grip.

 “I’m not a freshman.”

 Suddenly, we stopped moving while everyone else around us was making out or dancing. Somehow, no one bumped into us and I wondered if there was some sort of invisible field blocking it from happening. My eyes wandered away from Jordan, glancing at the colorful lights and feathers on someone’s dress. That did not last long as I felt her soft fingers move a braid away from my face.

    I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I turned back to her. Jordan seemed so soft as her hand trailed behind my ear before finally resting on my shoulder. Any words I could have said dried up on my tongue and I couldn’t think as our faces got closer to each other.

   Her woodsy cologne filled my senses, and I wondered what she could sense. Just as I closed my eyes, a terrifying scream broke through the crowd. When I opened my eyes, everything was a blur. At one moment, Jordan was in their masculine form and tugging me through the crowd. In the next, Andre was pushing me back into Luke’s car.

  Jordan, Andre, and Luke were yelling or talking but I couldn’t understand any of it. Cate seemed panicked in the front, but I had no idea what she was saying.

  “Where’s Marie?” I asked.

  Darkness overtook everything before anyone answered my question.

 The throbbing in my temples the next morning made me want to strangle George Clooney. My head weighed a thousand pounds, and it took even more effort to push myself up in bed. Thankfully, the curtains were drawn on my windows and only some rays of sunlight peaked through.

  When I was finally able to open my eyes, I noticed the bottle of Vought Water on my dresser and two aspirin. It was too early to ask any questions and I took the medicine and almost cried at the relief. Then, I did my best to walk to the bathroom without aggravating my spinning head.

  As soon as I turned on the light, I noticed the red and black jacket around my shoulders and gasped.

  This was Jordan’s.

  If they brought me home how messed up was I? I groaned at the thought and carefully hung the jacket on the hook on my door.

  My morning routine was plagued by all the possibilities from last night and what I’d said. I remembered vaguely gushing over Jordan’s eyes and dancing with Marie and Cate and…

   Almost kissing Jordan.

  How was I going to live that down? What had even come over me? It had to be the tequila and champagne. Thanks to that combination, Jordan was going to have material to tease me for at least a few months.

  After pulling on a baby blue short-sleeved fuzzy crop top and matching linen shorts, I slipped on my white Stan Smiths and went downstairs for breakfast. Per usual, it was buffet style with an option of fresh fruits, turkey bacon, steel-cut oatmeal, or toast. Sydney, Alina, and Sasha were the only ones in the dining room, all wearing matching Alo Yoga sets.

  I took the seat next to Sasha and forced myself to eat the oatmeal. “Good morning, everyone.”

 “Good morning, Y/N,” they all replied.

  “How was your night?” I asked Alina.

  “Fun,” she replied.

  “But not nearly as fun as yours,” Sasha commented.

  I stiffened and tried to cover it up with a sip of coffee. “What makes you say that?”

 “For one thing, you’re not ready to join us for Ashtanga yoga. Second, Jordan Li had to walk you to your room.” Sasha emphasized Jordan’s name with the biggest Cheshire cat grin on her face.

  “I’m glad you have such a good friend,” Sydney expressed, flicking a curly strawberry blonde hair out of her green eyes. “You always need those when Si Chi sisters can’t attend the same events.”

  “Thanks, I’m glad they’re my friend too.” I smiled as kindly as I could without side eyeing Sasha.

  Fifteen seconds passed before Alina broke the silence.

 “Did you hear what happened with that freshman last night?” she asked.

 Sasha groaned. “It’s been all over my timeline.”

 I frowned. “What happened?”

 “This freshman got caught off campus at a club,” Alina said as though it was the greatest gossip known to man.

  “Didn’t she save someone’s life, though? They had some kind of accident?” Sydney added as she popped a grape in her mouth.

  In that moment, the caffeine must have hit my brain because I almost yelped at the realization. We’d left Marie at the club last night, I had abandoned her. I grabbed my phone from my bag and started texting Emma.

 Y/N: Hey, did Marie make it back last night? Lost track of her.

 Emma responded back pretty quickly.

E: Yeah. She got a weird email from school. Ohw to Lamplighter.

My stomach churned and I willed myself to settle it. For a second, I closed my eyes and focused on Marie, but I couldn’t get a clear image of her.

 “Shit,” I muttered.

 Alina, Sasha, and Sydney turned to me, microbladed brows raised.

 “I’m sorry, I just realized that I forgot to read a chapter for a class today.”

   The girls may have said something as I quickly finished my breakfast and left the dining room, but I couldn’t hear them over my racing thoughts. Twenty minutes later, I was walking into the Crimefighting building with two iced coffees from Jitterbean in my hands and Jordan’s jacket slung over one of my arms.

  There were only a couple of people milling about the people, professors making final touches on lectures, and students cramming. I paid none of them any mind as I came across a sulking Jordan. They were in their feminine form and if they were hungover, they did not look like it.

  “Hi,” I greeted once we got close.

  “Hey,” she replied.

  “Um, I brought you coffee and your jacket as a thank you for last night. I heard you had to take me home and I’m sorry about that.”

  I handed her both items and she nodded. “It’s fine but you do owe me.”

  Her tone wasn’t as light as usual. Even when they were hungover, Jordan never missed an opportunity to go back and forth. This had to be about that almost kiss. As much as I wanted to avoid it, I had no choice.

  “About that, uh, kiss,” I whispered.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jordan affirmed.

  “Are you sure? Because----”

  “Seriously, it’s fine, we were drunk, well, you were wasted but it’s okay.”

 They did not sound nor look “okay” and they spoke as if they wanted me to drop it as soon as possible. Earlier, I wanted to erase it from my memory but their response made me want to shrink into a corner. Why did I even care? It’s one issue resolved.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “Anyway, have you seen Marie today? I can’t get in touch with her.”

  “No, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Telling me not to worry doesn’t make it go away. I feel bad about leaving her last night.”

  Jordan glanced around us before pulling me off to the side. “You should’ve told her the risks before having her join us. You know none of us can get caught breaking the rules,” she hissed.

  “I didn’t think abandoning her would be a possibility,” I muttered.

  “She’ll be fine. You should know to look out for yourself by now, freshie.”

  For a moment, I narrowed my eyes at Jordan, who was suddenly more focused than they’d been since we started talking. They had a point, they and the rest of the Top Five always covered themselves but that typically never meant someone got hurt.

  “Would you have done the same thing if it were me instead of Marie?” I asked.

   Jordan flinched and her silence was all the answer I needed. Tears threatened to burn in the corner of my eyes, but I turned before she could see them. I thought I heard her say something and I mumbled about seeing her in class later. Just as I was about to make my way out of the building, Marie flew in, eyes flaring.

   “Did you know about this?” she questioned.

   “About what?” I asked.

   “They’re expelling me to cover up for you.” She looked behind me. “And you.”

   “Wait, what?” Jordan replied.

   “That doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I gently argued.

   “Well, I guess I did because I thought you were different from them.”

   Her cold words felt worse than the time a girl with ice powers caught me in the shoulder during a training session. For a second, I couldn’t speak, and I thought I heard buzzing in my ears. Nothing was going the way I thought or envisioned it would. What was the point of having these powers if I couldn’t help my friends or figure out who were fake friends?  

   “Marie,” I started.

    She pushed past me and Jordan, storming towards Brink’s office. As I turned around to go back to my room and lick my wounds, a vision flashed in my head.

   Bright yellow flames covered Luke’s body and he had a murderous look in his eye as he approached someone. The perspective switched to a frightened Marie stumbling out of Brink’s office with Luke trailing behind her, his flames growing larger and more sporadic. Then, Jordan appeared.

   As soon as it appeared, it left and I had a sinking feeling in my chest as I whirled around.

   “MARIE, DON’T!”

[charthurlover]

What perfume/cologne would the Van Der Linde gang wear

hi!! this is my first tumblr post, and i don’t exactly know how to do this or work the app, so forgive me if this is horribly worded or confusing.

anyways, this is my opinion on what colognes or perfumes the gang would wear. horses and cain included, since they are technically a member of the gang!!

Abigail -

something woodsy, maybe like the forest or a campfire, cedar wood, trees, plants.

examples:

- G-Water

- Tam Dao

- Snoqualine

Arthur -

tobacco, scent of alcohol, mud, outdoors.

examples:

- Jasmin et Cigarette

- Rien

- Earthworm

Baylock -

ashes, grease.

examples:

- Tobacco Blaze

- Garage

- La Yuquam Homme

Bill -

any popular male fragrances, or like gunpowder and fire.

examples:

- 9mm Ballistic Therapy

- High Noon

- Campfire Nights

Boaz -

dynamite, money.

examples:

- Wall Street

- Don Xerjoff

- 1805 Tonnerre BeauFort London

Branwen -

oatcakes, apples, water.

examples:

- Lostmarch Lann-Ael

- Be Delicious

- Cavalli Acqua

Bob -

blood, gunpowder, sweat.

examples:

- Vena Cava

- Richard Dark Side

- Secretions Magnefique

Brown Jack

pomade, alcohol, blood.

examples:

- Classic Fragrance

- Heeley Agarwood

- Molotov Cocktail

Cain -

dog, mud, grass.

examples:

- La Panthere Edition Soir

- Grass

- Zoologist Bat

Charles -

light florals, nature, clean fur.

examples:

- Coach Floral

- Super Cedar

- Coyote

Dutch -

blood, metal, tears.

examples:

- Vassago

- Spacewalk

- Rainy Season of Dresden

Davey -

snow, wood, fire.

examples:

- Waltz of the Snowflakes

- Tobacco Vanille

- Inquisitor

Enis -

whiskey, beer, grass.

examples:

- Tom Oud

- Stout ‘n Smoke

- Dune Road

Grimshaw -

sulfur, metal, cinnamon.

examples:

- Bloody Smoke

- Vanille Absolu

- Jupiter

Gwydion -

birds, leather, salt.

examples:

- Seemannn

- Black Saffron

- Millésime Impérial

Hosea -

moonshine, stew, metal.

examples:

- Moscow Mule

- Starfish & Coffee

- Santal 33

Jack -

water, horse, corn oil.

examples:

- Petrichor

- Cuir de Russie

- Seems Legit

Javier -

mahogany, cotton, musk.

examples:

- Redwood Leaves

- Lazy Sunday Morning

- Urban Musk

Jenny -

snow, wool, wood.

examples:

- Redwood Mist

- Battaniye

- Grey Vetiver

John -

sweat, musk, grease

examples:

- Flores Negras

- Silver Musk

- Cristina La Veneno Ni Puta Ni Santa

Kieran -

blood, grass, oats.

examples:

- Hora de la Verdad Sombra

- Figuier Eden

- Harran

Karen -

beer, guns, whiskey.

examples:

- Beguile

- Wicked John

- Kutay

Lenny -

blood, books, bullets.

examples:

- Seems Legit

- Diamonitirion - elixir atonit

- Moon Child

Mac -

metal, bullets, kerosene.

examples:

- Craft

- Iron Duke

- Nuvolari Rubini

Maggie -

dirt, stone, bog.

examples:

- Le Sillage Blanc

- During the Rain

- Swamp elixir

Mary-Beth -

books, ink, gold.

examples:

- Bibliophilia: Love of Books

- Supreme Vanilla

- Royal Blood

Micah -

rot, corn, mold.

examples:

- Saint Louis Cemetery #1

- Funerie

- French Kiss

Molly -

roses, grass, trees.

examples:

- Roses Musk

- Leila Lou

- Colors de Benetton

Nell II -

sweat, cows, pig.

examples:

- Amyi 3.17

- Cuir de Russie

- Hyrax

Old Belle -

carrots, beer, hay.

examples:

- Carotte

- Sónar

- Basilico & Fellini

Old Boy -

musk, tears, cow.

examples:

- Another 13

- Ozone

- Osmanthus

Pearson -

meat, vegetables, crawfish.

examples:

- Gino: Steak Scented Eau de Parfum

- Eau de Cuisine

- Wild Carrot Oud

Reverend -

whiskey, incense, coffee.

examples:

- 7 Loewe

- Bourbon e Fava Tonka

- Black Opium

Sadie -

blood, tears, gunpowder.

examples:

- Bull’s Blood 2nd Edition

- Cool Glacier

- Rendez-Vous!

Sean -

whiskey, sweat, bullets.

examples:

- Malt Akro

- Monochrome

- Amour Nocturne

Silver Dollar -

fire, wool, metal.

examples:

- Encens Pyro

- The Sheepfold, Moonlight

- Rosenrot

Taima -

deer, blood, meat.

examples:

- Ma Bete

- Trinity Blood

- Good Girl Gone Bad

The Count -

sugarcubes, peaches, pears.

examples:

- Pixie Dust

- Allure Eau de Parfum

- First Base

Trelawny -

doves, rabbits, silk.

examples:

- Ruğa Sablo

- Wet Garden

- Baklava Musk

Tilly -

bullets, baby powder, swamps.

examples:

- 266ts Pontiff’s Harley

- Cashmere Mist Eau de Toilette

- Haxan

Uncle -

manure, horse, cow.

examples:

- D’zing

- L’heure Fougueuse

- Zoologist Cow

again, this is my first post so i’m very sorry about it being bad or isn’t looking right for tumblr. so sorry.

[weclassybouquetfun]

In 2021 the limited series on the career of designer Halston (Roy Halston Frowick, portrayed by Ewan McGregor) waltzed down Netflix's catwalk. Now we have at least three series chronicling the lives and careers of designers.

Currently on Disney+ in Europe is the exquisite CRISTÓBAL BALENCIAGA centering on, guess who? Spanish designer Cristobal Balenciaga, starring Alberto San Juan (Reyes De La Noche) as Balenciaga.

It's an interesting story about this enigmatic fashion genius that shows his steadfastness in his devotion to fashion to the sacrifice, some may say, of ethics due to the fact that while other fashion houses were shut down during Germany's occupation of some parts of France, he readily made clothes for the significant others of German soldiers.

The series also shines a light on Balenciaga's relationship with his creative partner and love-of-his-life Wladzio d'Attainville (played by Thomas Coumans).

Among the designers who appear or are name-checked in CRISTÓBAL BALENCIAGA is Christian Dior and Coco Chanel. These two fashion legends will appear in AppleTV+'s upcoming mini-series THE NEW LOOK with Ben Mendelsohn as Dior and Juliette Binoche as Coco Chanel and takes place during Germany's occupation of France.

THE NEW LOOK will feature covers of classics by Florence + and The Machine, Lana del Rey, The 1975, Perfume Genius and more.

Sometimes this year (at least I hope this year) will be KAISER KARL (apparently the title may be changed) starring Daniel Brühl as Kunty Karl Lagerfeld

centering on him as a 38-year old trying to break into the Parisian world of high fashion where he finds himself in competition with he finds himself in competition with French fashion giants like Yves Saint Laurent.

The only Yves Saint Laurent depiction worth a damn. RIP beautiful Gaspard Ulliel 

What is fashion if there's no one to wear it? For example, the high society ladies that will be depicted in the upcoming installment of FX's FEUD: CAPOTE VS. THE SWANS.

Hopefully this series will do justice to the mythos behind writer Truman Capote's nuclear fall out with the so-called Swans - a moniker Capote gave the socialites whose company he kept and whose secrets he didn't.

Playing Capote is Tom Hollander

Naomi Watts as Babe Paley, wife of CBS founder William S. Paley (which the annual PaleyFest is named after), Diane Lane as Slim Keith, ex-wife of famed director Howard Hawks, producer Leland Hayward amongst others; Calista Flockhart as Lee Radziwill, sister of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Demi Moore Ann Woodward who got her place in society by being the wife of a banking heir,

Demi, that looks like a flamingo, not a swan.

Chloe Sevigny as Andy Warhol and Salvador Dali muse C.Z. Guest, Molly Ringwald as JoAnne Carson, ex-wife of late-night talk show host Johnny Carson and the only Swan who remained friends with Capote after his ouster from their social circle.

TBT Elle magazine getting animated with fashion.

Goofy as Kunty Karl Lagerfeld.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

hi! i saw your request post, and can i request a gender neutral anthony story in which the reader and anthony hate each other, but reader and benedict are best friends?

Pride Before The Fall (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

AN: Thank you for reading my post before you sent this in! I hope you like what I've written. I left the ending kinda vague since you didn't specify if you wanted a resolution - which I think I'd be down for writing over a series of mini blurbs (rather than a full on fic) like something people can send asks in and I respond with a blurb type. Let me know if that's something you'd be interested in!

Content Warnings: Reader is gender neutral, no use of Y/N

Masterlist // Read Before Requesting

The park was a hotspot for the daytime proceedings of every season. Families promenading together, arranged around picnic blankets beneath canopies, young couples awkwardly finding their feet through small talk whilst being stalked by a member of their staff who would record all said to memory then regurgitate it to the rest of the household staff once they’d returned home. Sunshine pleasant enough to be basked in, flower perfuming the air with romance, ducks gliding across the lake, it was ever bubbling with the life of society.

It was precisely why Anthony had chosen to take a turn about the lake with Miss Harper. He maintained a brisk pace with his feet and his mouth, asking many questions to decide whether to rule her out of his mission to find his Viscountess. On paper, she seemed ideal: a cellist who spoke French and was well-versed with a waltz. However the sentences were strung together in a strained sense and Anthony found himself already deciding who he would speak to next.

As he and his walking partner drew towards his family, he spied – in the near distance – you. His stride staggered a tad before he negotiated with himself to carry on forwards. His gaze was set on you, speaking with Benedict, though from this distance, Anthony could not tell. Benedict withdrew his sketchpad from behind his back and held it up. You grabbed for it, but he held it just out of reach, walking backwards and teasing you as you bounded after him until you both reached the Bridgerton picnic.

Side by side, you and Benedict always had been bosom buddies. You knew about Benedict’s penchant for art before he told anyone in his family. It was this relationship that irked Anthony so.  

Anthony hastily bid Miss Harper goodbye then, with a quick adjustment of his coat, he propelled himself back to his family.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted, intending for it to be addressing everyone present.

However his stare was concentrated on you and your bowed head, leaning over Benedict’s sketch book. When you finally noticed you were being spoken to by someone who was not your best friend, you did not rise to courtesy, only offering a blank faced “Good afternoon, my lord” before returning to your conversation with Benedict. Anthony did his best to hide his disdain.

“I take it Miss Harper was not to your standards?” Benedict probed, snapping his book closed upon realising that Anthony was not leaving them alone. Before Anthony could retort, he and Benedict caught your confused expression, your nose adorably wrinkled with your brow.

Touching your hand as if delivering grave news, Benedict spoke sombrely, “Haven’t you heard? Dearest Anthony is seeking out a wife.”

You took a second, then you let out a sardonic huff: “God help her.”

Pride flared up, Anthony countered, “You still clinging to my brother’s arm as tightly as you do to spending your life alone?”

“Better alone than in your company!” That was what made you stand and leave with the last word being a quick farewell to the Bridgerton family (with your back to Anthony).

Benedict sighed loudly, pushing himself up, “Why’d you have to do that? Now I’ll have to listen to them ranting about you again.”

Turning his head to follow your retreating form, Anthony asked with his voice catching in his throat, “They talk about me?”

“Every time you so much as breathe in their direction. I swear I’ve not seen a couple so concerned with each and unmarried.”

With a pat on his brother’s shoulders, Benedict jogged after you, to continue delighting in your company. Anthony let out a haughty scoff.

“They’re already gone, brother,” remarked Eloise, not taking an eye off her book.

So Anthony planted himself in a chair, his back rigid, and pretended to making notes on his next potential partner.

Regret resumed digging its grave in his stomach as he saw you link arms with Benedict and begin strolling along the dirt path. It was far too late to curate any sense of kinship with you; it had been too late for a while. But he’d rather suffer in his emotions in silence and still get those tongue lashings from you than admit defeat and confess his affections for you only to receive your malicious delight and eternal humiliation.

Little did he know that, across the lake, as you were finally allowing Benedict room to breathe and discuss his latest painting, you let Anthony linger in the corner of your eye with a prayer of thanks for your defensiveness, for you would not know what to do if you had not left sooner – lest Anthony, the beholder of your heart, say anything more to break it.

[zennybearr]

midnight whispers

ship: druella x cygnus black

tags / warnings: cute; fluff; healthy relationships; implied tipsy behaviour.

note: this one is the best so i saved it for last, ml @loving-lucissa

word count: 871

the soft glow of moonlight streamed through the tall windows of the black family manor, casting long shadows across the opulent sitting room. the air was filled with the quiet hum of the night, the gentle rustle of leaves outside mingling with the distant sound of the ocean waves crashing against the cliffs. in the middle of the room, sprawled comfortably on a plush velvet couch, were cygnus and druella black, both slightly tipsy and wrapped up in the warm afterglow of a wonderful evening.

they had just returned from a splendid date night, one filled with laughter, fine wine, and whispered secrets. it had been one of those rare occasions when they could truly let their guard down and simply be themselves, away from the watchful eyes of the wizarding world and the responsibilities that came with their family name.

druella, with her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and her cheeks flushed from the wine, looked particularly enchanting. she giggled softly as cygnus leaned back against the couch, his arm draped lazily around her shoulders. his usually immaculate attire was slightly askew, his shirt untucked, and his tie loosened. he had a relaxed, almost boyish grin on his face as he looked at his wife with an affectionate gaze.

“did you enjoy yourself tonight?” he asked, his voice low and warm, tinged with the playful confidence that came with a few glasses of wine.

druella tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “you mean, did i enjoy the dinner, the dancing, or the part where you tried to impress me with that awful french accent?” she teased, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest.

cygnus chuckled, feigning offence. “i thought my french was rather impeccable, thank you very much. je suis très charmant.”

she laughed, a sound like the chiming of bells, and leaned in closer. “oh, very charming indeed,” she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. “especially when you tripped over that step during the waltz.”

cygnus groaned, covering his face with his free hand. “ah, yes, my moment of glory,” he said, peeking at her through his fingers. “but you have to admit, it was a memorable night.”

“memorable,” druella agreed, her voice softening. she shifted, sliding her hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing gently over his skin. “you always know how to make me laugh, even when you’re being a complete fool.”

he turned his head, catching her hand in his, and pressed a tender kiss to her palm. “and you,” he murmured, his eyes locked with hers, “always know how to make me feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

there was a moment of silence, the world outside fading away as they gazed at each other. the warmth between them was palpable, a comfortable intimacy that only years of deep affection could bring. cygnus leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, and closed his eyes. the scent of her perfume, mixed with the faint hint of wine, was intoxicating.

druella sighed contentedly, her fingers threading through his dark hair. “we should do this more often,” she whispered, her lips ghosting over his as she spoke. “just the two of us, away from everything.”

cygnus smiled, a slow, lazy grin. “agreed,” he replied, his voice a mere breath against her lips. “but let's make the most of tonight, shall we?”

without another word, he closed the small distance between them, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. it was gentle at first, a tender meeting of lips that spoke of love and familiarity. but as the seconds passed, the kiss deepened, growing more passionate. druella's hands slid up to his neck, pulling him closer, while cygnus's arms wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to him.

the world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of them wrapped in each other's embrace. they kissed as if they had all the time in the world, lost in the moment. the taste of wine still lingered on their lips, sweet and intoxicating, adding to the heady mix of sensations.

eventually, they broke apart, both slightly breathless, and cygnus rested his forehead against hers once more. he opened his eyes, looking at her with a soft, adoring expression. “i love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out effortlessly.

druella smiled, her eyes shining with affection. “i love you too,” she replied, her voice full of warmth. she pressed a quick kiss to his lips before snuggling into his arms, resting her head against his chest.

for a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth. the night was peaceful, and for a brief moment, all was right in the world. they were simply cygnus and druella, two people in love, enjoying a quiet moment together.

as the fire flickered and the night grew deeper, they stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, content and happy. it was a perfect end to a perfect night, and as they drifted off to sleep, they knew that no matter what challenges life might bring, they would always have moments like these to hold onto. moments of love, laughter, and pure, unadulterated joy.

© zennybearr

[therosepetalrps]

inspiration  :  what  media  inspired  your  interpretation  of  your  muse  ?  can  be  anything  ;  books  ,  movies  ,  songs  ,  whatever  !

best  friend  :  who  is  their  best  friend  ?  how  do  they  feel  about  them  ?

flower  :  what  would  be  their  favorite  flower  ,  and  why  ?  because  of  what  it  means  in  the  language  of  flowers  ,  or  because  they  just  like  how  it  looks  /  smells  ?

muppet  :  who  would  be  your  muse’s  favorite  muppet(s)  ,  and  why  ?

( all for Maeve! )

»»—— 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ——««

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : what media inspired your interpretation of your muse? can be anything; books, movies, songs, whatever!

The bedrock of Maeve is, without a doubt, classic-era Disney princess films. Predominantly Snow White, but with healthy helpings of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty as well. In my mind's eye, Maeve is eternally cast in soft-focus; a songbird perched on her finger, a daisy chain in her hair, the whole nine yards.

I also find classical waltzes and ballets (especially those with a fairy tale atmosphere) to be very inspiring. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 playlist and 𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 are two of my favorites to pop on while writing. She is the physical embodiment of The Garland Waltz.

And this doesn't really fall under media, but Maeve has a very Tudor look in design and outfitting. Puffed sleeves, French hoods, and so on. I've always imagined Stormlands fashion as being Tudor-inspired. I have no pithy lore reasoning for that — my heart just tells me so.

Other bits and bobs of inspiration; Wendy Darling (a mothering storyteller who clings to childhood fancies), The Princess Bride book & film (highly exaggerated storytelling that is playful, dramatic, and wildly romantic), and The Sound of Music soundtrack (which modern!Maeve would know front to back and back to front).

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 : who is their best friend? how do they feel about them?

Her younger sister, Aoife.

Maeve is extraordinarily lucky to be in the centre of a very rare Venn diagram; a very large family that is also a lovingly functional one. She has a good relationship with all six of her sisters — particularly the younger ones, as she's always fulfilled a second mother role for them, even when she herself was barely knee-high.

But her and Aoife have always had a special relationship. Only one year apart in age, they were steadfast playmates and confidants nearly from birth.

Aoife is the first person Maeve will share a secret with or the first she teaches a new game she's invented. At feasts, they can be found gossiping and eating food off each other's plates. At balls, they always claim one another's first dance.

Aoife is studious and staunchly disinterested in intimate pursuits, where Maeve is fanciful and a starry-eyed romantic. Their bond isn't born from matching personalities, but from sharing the same temperament — the same heart.

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 : what would be their favorite flower, and why? because of what it means in the language of flowers, or because they just like how it looks / smells?

Lavender.

If you asked her purely what the most beautiful flower is, she'd likely say blue sweet peas or pink peonies. But lavender will forever have her heart because of it's smell.

Her perfumes and soaps all have a lavender base. She crumbles the dried buds and tucks them into her pillow case. And, goodness, do not loan her any piece of clothing if you don't want the scent to set into the fabric.

𝐌𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓 : who  would  be  your  muse’s  favorite  muppet(s) ,  and  why?

Rowlf — because puppy !!

Robin — because baby !!

And, most of all, Sweetums. I mean, come on. Huge, scary monster who really just wants a hug and a lullaby? Little baby modern!Maeve would adore him.

[hornyforpoetry]

Little hedonistic things to enjoy (Romantic Academia edition)

• writing letters to the lovers you never had;

• picking small flowers to press and dry, then leaving them in different books at antique shops;

• performing dramatical poems by Byron at midnight, alone in the room;

• reading Shelley and Haine on the windowsill at sunset, waiting for the lover who will never come;

• putting on waltz vinyls and dancing around the room, imagining yourself waltzing with a foreign prince at an early 20th century French ball;

• writing small poems in the corners of notebooks during classes;

• having a copy of Goethe's "Faust" full of comments, annotations, underlines and inspired ideas;

• having tea at a chic cafe, imagining that you are a spy from the second world war waiting for her beloved soldier to return from the front;

• having a small drawing pad in your pocket, on which you make watercolor still lifes with flowers, fruits and birds;

• collecting small perfumes with elegant aromas, creating a different tragic character to match each scent;

• walking through second hand looking for vintage dresses, trying to guess the story of the mysterious woman who wore it before.

[licially]

Delinquency.

/ AO3 link. This is an AU that is conjoint with the events of the Lackadaisy timeline, and in case the episodes come out before I finish this: This is only in line with the comic canon, with several deviations to adjust for the storyline. I apologise for any grammatical errors, I suck at English.

1927 proved to be the prime time for speakeasies to pop up left right and center, with prohibition still in full effect most people opted to dodge out of their homes for a night of booze filled dancing instead of staying home. One such aspiring speakeasy, located near the border of a religious section of St Louis, was the Foxglove speakeasy. Behind an entrance towards the very northwest corner, gated by the local bartender with a secret phrase. It isn’t the most closely guarded secret next to the name of the bar, yet it’s enough to distinguish the initiated vs the newcomers, depending on the response. 

The bar, not too far from the entrance door, tuckered behind the open space of the dark, orange yet zesty interior. The brick walls lining up the interior, the overhead lights lightly bouncing up and down the place, music that rang through the corridors and ceilings of the underground illegality only interrupted by a few laughs, cries, ice colliding against a mixer, and filled with a scent of smoke, perfume, and a hint of bad odor whiffed around the area. The night at Foxglove grew stagnant. Slowly, the band swung the swing and sang a different song from the mellow, melodic jazz to a serenade with all of its patrons holding hands, and on the wooden floorboards were many people straggling about at their feet to waltz with their partners. 

At the opposite side of the bar, however, still laid a distressed detective. His hat laid on the table, alongside a card: a four of diamond. Andrew laid on his arm, fiddling around with Döbereiner's lamp, carefully to not open it by accident. The lighter itself is interesting in that it isn’t sold exactly publicly. This was a gift from his partner, and etched onto it bore the design of a foxglove, which inherently had a key into him being here in the first place after raising it at the speakeasy grille. 

“A French 75 please, Bartender.” 

He sleazily spoke over the bar, at the behest of the bartender, as a slouched…cat leaned against the warmer wood, with his left arm hanging in dead air, and his right rested into the bench. His low purring, coupled with his obviously very exasperated voice, doesn’t make the interaction between him and the bartender any better. His head hung low, as his left eye met Lyle’s nervous stance as he cleaned another wine glass. Yet they too noticed the design on the lighter, and wondered how did a guy like him get to be here in the first place.

They carefully set the glass down near its proper storage space and mumbled something to themselves as they set out to find all of the ingredients for the cocktail drink. Lemony, zesty fragrance dancing up and down with a hit of gin and a subtle nod back to the citrusy nature of the main ingredient it’s no secret of any bar to serve this for someone looking for a sting in their nights, or to buzz their tongues and noses by the electrifying champagne gin mixture. A couple of seconds of mindless wandering, and they arrived where most of the fruits are: just behind a couple of swinging doors towards the left side, hidden by subtle curtain work and distracted by the band swing of the front. 

There, the shelves are packed full of various garnishes. Mints, oranges, cherries, even some tin cans of candied fruits, everything was there. It felt like a bartender’s nightmare, and to some extent it was just that. Everywhere they looked; left, down, up, precariously scanning every tag along the steel shelves, and tilting closer to read the labels a little clearer given the typeface of the labels. It was a confusing task, finding the correct garnish, and made even the bartender wonder if they should have done anything for the labels to have a certain order to them. Alphabetical would be a good place to start, and maybe working its way to ‘most used to least used’ could also save the speakeasy some amount of money, or even have it be more accessible from the bar itself, albeit this is the closest it’ll be towards it as to not ruin the aesthetics.

“It’s annoying to shift through – aha!”

They spoke up after a frustrating minute and a half of searching the pantry alone, interrupted by a few barely lit up lemons and sliced by the lights through the cracks of the wooden boxes and shelf railings. They picked up three, for good measure, and raced back to the bar where the detective was still laying down. The music from before has subsided a little, although it may be intermissionary. Frontside was more or less going through the same period of intermission, or rather through the interlude of the band as they sat back onto the stage, some with cigars and one in particular, the sax player, looked interesting to say the least.

The bar itself was still deserted. Although small, the place doesn’t see a massive influx of drinkers, given most of its patrons are too busy by either the pool tables or poker tables upstairs, yet even then it’s still quiet given the small talks briefly poking into the swing music from the stage towards their right, just past some stairwells that spirals like a lemon peel garnish. Part of it symbolizes one of the more popular garnishes to compliment a martini, and only more popular given the rise of vodka and vermouth cocktails. A mere zesty coincidence, it really was.

As they peeled the lemon slowly, the smooth skin of the lemon falling onto the cutting board, they took another glance back at the band. This time they set themselves back up, and looked like they were going to run through the night one more time with a song. Even with a smaller crowd from night’s descent into midnight, the music kept going on. As if the band itself knew the time for music never rests, especially for improv swing bands such as this one. However-

A sting cut loose the mindless staring, as they flinched down towards their hand. They’d accidentally tear themselves in between the paws, and flinched out of reflex. The lemon itself fell towards the board, and the knife landed between their shoes, as they moved out of the way to avoid any further injuries. Holding their cut, they raced over a nearby sink to wash the area in case of any infections. As this was happening, the sleazy detective raised his head over the commotion to see what happened.

“Bartender, are you–?” 

He asked, half drunk yet the sobriety started to kick in given this sentence was the very least legible. His search effort, only consisting of him looking over the bar for a half second, found the average height cat resting their left hand under a slow and steady stream of water. There wasn’t too much they could burn themselves with, and a knife with a speck of blood laid on the blade and stained a dot onto the floor, and he’d piece together what had happened already.

“Ah. I’ll go find some aid. Wait there.” In a derailing realization, he sighed those words out. 

∞

He stood up fully, his coat unfurled and his whiskers stood up on its ends again as he gave himself a cat stretch - rather ironically - as he went towards the stage area to see if anyone knows any means of medical attention. At the forefront of the establishment lay the stage and the subsequent wooden dance floor sprawling in front of the protruding stage lights and wooden enclave of the gap between the stage and the actual place. Up on the stage, was the swing band, and like most of the swing bands, the music was as lively as ever.

A moment of silence went along with the end of another swing, as the quiet cheering prompted the band to take a slight break given the shortage of patrons. After all, Wednesday nights never proved the business to be busy in the first place, given the current count of customers can fit on both of his hands, but yet the band didn’t seem like they’ll slow down anytime soon. One in particular, the person holding the alto saxophone, hopped off stage for a bit. Before anything else happens, however, someone spoke up.

“Does anyone know where to find medical aid?” 

A silent cry from Andrew, as the patrons looked back at the well-dressed yet ill-faced detective with his arms out. The crowd, and its commanding band, looked back at the aloof detective.

The sax player spoke up first. A worried tone washed over his normally casual demeanor.

“Is this matter an emergency?” 

“Quite so. The bartender had accidentally cut themself.” He replied to the dismay of his own exhaustion.

A look of shock from everyone, band members included, as they all started throwing suggestions.

“Have they run the wound under water?” One patron, a Norwegian Forest, asked, in which the reply came immediately following a quick nod.

“They are doing so. I’m only looking for band-aids.” He repeated, with a more reassuring tone. Contradictory, however, as he just said of it being an emergency.

“I do believe they have a medical care box upstairs.” Proposed  a properly dressed Chartreux, with a sense of doubt in their voice. 

“That’s rather stupid.” Criticized another out of his view, mockingly. “Why would they have those upstairs?”

“Yeah, I agree.” Said another, with a heavy British accent. “Why’d they put it up there?”

“Now is not the time for arguments-” retorted the detective, but the saxophone player had the same plan as well.

“Enough. I’ll go upstairs to find out. Everyone else, you can go back to doing your own thing. We’ll take a break for the night.” He raised his tone, and walked off towards Andrew. 

“I believe we haven’t met before, could I ask for your name?” He asked, approaching the detective, and walked past him as well. Andrew, knowing this gesture, followed suit and answered accordingly.

“Jacobs. Andrew Jacobs. I’m a private investigator, I was given the address, and this.” He pulled out the lighter again, and that in turn made Ray go from an inquisitive tone to a more relaxed tone.

“Ah.” He, in turn, held out his dominant hand. “Ray Elwood. Pleased to be acquainted.” He was expecting a handshake, and he got one.

“Might I add, your music has the same swing as Johnny Hodges. Is he a big inspiration for you?” He asked curiously, not expecting a response out of the musician as they walked upstairs. 

“Johnny Hodges…” He held his head in a thinking pose, tilting a little. “Yes, I’ve heard of him before. Have you also heard ‘Zib’ Zibowski though? He does some good sax as well. I’ve had the honor of playing alongside him, and…” He paused, his complexion muddled for a moment. It’s not weird for him to talk about Zib like this, but to a newcomer? It feels like he’s doing too much. 

“...he’s amazing.”

“I’ve never heard of him. Having been around some bars, and some speakeasies on occasion, but I’ve never heard of that name before.”  He flicked his tail a little, curious on what this ‘Zib’ has to offer differently than the  swing everyone else had to offer.. But this short conversation turned shorter as they approached a box with a  red cross towards the back wall.

The top floor, scattered with various tables found in casinos; roulette wheels, poker tables with no one sitting atop it aside from a couple of stray dealers, who looked at the duo with a silent eye, as if beckoning them to join the table. Of course, with a more pressing issue at hand, they both just ignored the strays. The carpeting was the same as the downstairs area, albeit the roof is a little closer to them with chandeliers lighting up the smaller albeit expectedly more busy area. It, in essence, wasn’t too busy. A couple of stragglers still stuck up top, including two ladies gossiping about something. It doesn’t exactly process through with Andrew and Ray, given how they are in a hurry, but they didn’t exactly want anyone to fiddle with their banter either, so they stopped as the two ran by, and opened the cabinet.

Swinging open, the cabinet revealed a couple of tiny tins, and Andrew pulled out one of such ‘accident emergency’ cases and closed the cabinet after. Ray, eager to go over back to the bar, immediately started sprinting after a semi-vocal “Let’s go”, leaving Andrew to come sprinting after him.

Soon, they reached the stairs and subsequently raced down the stairs. Their boots clanked against every metal step as the lobby looked on at them with a concerned look for a split second. Before long, they stood to the side of the bar and faced the bartender, who was sitting there and compressing the cut with a nearby towel. Ray was the first to reach out, as he raced across the bar to cater for the cut. But it wasn’t met without resistance, as Lyle slightly pulled the wound away from Ray.

“I’ll be fine, Ray.” They addressed the sax player, but with no sense of rejection and rather… playfulness? There really isn’t a tone here, it felt more monotonous than actual speech.

“I don’t think you have three arms to both treat your cut and mix drinks.” Ray shot back, as Andrew left the container on the bar just behind the two. Knowing this, Ray immediately reached for the box and opened it. Aside from all of the junk: a random pair of scissors, antiseptics and rolls of bandages were a newer invention that rolled around. He opened the Band-aid sticker, and urged Lyle to move the towel.

They complied, and wrapped the sticky part around their thumb as Ray let go of the hand. 

“...Thank you.” Lyle nervously said, looking around to clean up the mess on the floor. They’ve been the cause of this chaos from start to end, and they were really really feeling bad about it.

“I’m sure it was nothing. I’m just glad it wasn’t a horrible cut. Don’t know what this place would do without a bartender like you.” Ray smiled at the bartender, also looking for ways to aid the bartender, both figuratively and mentally. He moved his hand to sort of hold theirs, just placing it on top of theirs on the counter.

Lyle gained a smile from the Maine Coon’s hand touching theirs. The bit of chaos that had occurred was finally coming to a close, but their night was not. They still had a few patrons who needed drinks. 

“You should probably go back up on stage… I have some catching up to do here.” they left their hands, about to pick up another martini glass out of the shelf underneath. After all, the original cocktail needs a newer recipe, given how the lemon has been wasted, but the bartender still kept pushing. It’s their job, after all.

“Oh? Why can’t I stay?” He said in a twist of fate, climbing back over to the otherside of the bar. As he did, he adjusted himself unto a nearby stool, not only to talk to Lyle in the first place but also to watch how drinks are made. Oftentimes, he’d be interested in seeing how other stuff works as well, and maybe picking a few techniques here and there to conform to his jack of all trades attitude. But this time, he took his teasing a little further, after he leaned against the bar from a distance, and said more rhetoric with a smug grin. 

“And what if I wanted to stay? Surely, the customer’s priorities are right all of the time, right?”

Lyle never paid no mind to the conversation, at least they blocked out almost all of the one-sided conversation. There are more pressing matters at hand - literally - as they squeezed the lemon juice from another sliced lemon into a cocktail shaker. The liquid slowly filled the bottom of the shaker, as they discarded the remains into a bin directly below. Afterwards, they grabbed a nearby bottle of gin and a measuring glass. They held out the cup, and poured out exactly what was ingrained into the tiny metal cup: 1.5 ounces. They soon poured that into the lemon juice, as they neatly tucked the bottle back onto the shelf behind them.

“Although…I do wonder.” The saxophonist spoke again, this time with a more alluring tone as he made his way back over to the busy bartender. “Your expertise is interesting to look out for, why don’t you share some secrets for a guy like me?”

They still kept their silence. Unintentionally, yet unwillingly. 

The next step involved some more ice, as they went towards an ice maker, that was directly-

“Oh…?” His ears perked up, as did he when the bartender got closer and closer to him. As he sat up, Lyle scooped ice into the shaker. The loud shuffling, coupled by the unpleasant sounds of ice cubes colliding against the scooper really irked the experienced bartender, it’s one of the worst parts of working at the bar. Sounds like glasses clinking, the freezing touch of something way below room temperature, and sometimes even odd and often distasteful creations based on a fixed recipe. 

They continued, past the uneasiness of the cold in contrast to the lukewarm temperature of the speakeasies, and past the person who’s been practically begging for their attention for the longest. At this point, he’s decided to set up his own boundaries and remain to the side. As he did, he leered back over to the detective, who’s now full blown asleep at the bar towards the general direction of the staircase they just descended down from.

∞

He felt his head go into a daze. He had been up for the last couple of weeks working on a case regarding the territories of two rivaling gangs: Marigold, and one ‘Foxglove’. Recently Marigold, with the absence of its infamous henchman Mordecai Heller, has been running around mindlessly and, in the process of destroying their own reputation, also destroying their own legacy. It’s unclear who is truly in charge, more so what their true objective within the region is. After one brutal interrogation with one of the members, they revealed that they were planning moves against a “Foxglove” crew and had been setting out “precautions for an encroaching attack”.

He had written multiple theories out, scrawling through piles upon piles of evidence to connect three central theories on who this “Foxglove” can be. Yet, he’s decidedly unsure if he wants to submit this theory to his higher-up and subsequent partner: Russell Johnson, of whom he runs a private investigation firm with. He reasoned to himself that if anyone knows, Russell would, and for the last couple of days he hasn’t been hearing much of his thoughts on the matter of who this gang is, and only dismissing it as of the moment.

“Andrew, I don’t have time for this.” Andrew recalls the conversation between the two just before he made his way here in the first place. “I got a cold case down my neck and you’re sitting here rambling about something we don’t have to worry about.”  Russell had said these words to him, just before he left the apartment studio with him and the corkboard of evidence stacked messily on his corner of the room. A contrast to the more organized, and therefore more pleasing to look at, office of Russell. They’ve not had a dispute over what case to cover, and yet today was an exception. 

This slowly has him descend into his own thoughts. As he lay his head onto his sleeves, he looked on wearily at the duo in the distance as they talked and talked on and on with each other. In the corner of his eyes, the lights flickered a little as they droned on and on, garbled through some unknown capacity. Some words, at least from where he sat from, didn’t make sense to him.

“Bar– scent— ture–” 

“Way– far– truth–”

At least, he’d think that those were words, since those are mumbles to his ears. Distant murmuring as he continued rummaging through his own thoughts.

For a while, the moment kept getting to the point where the bartender had stopped working altogether, and the sax player was the one keeping them at bay. The rest of the patrons have gone back to their regularities, sprawled about the speakeasy. That was, until the front door of the speakeasy had opened again, this time with a more sharply dressed cat. His beige fur, coupled with a fedora wedged between his asymmetrical ears. A tuft protruded from underneath the hat, and his purple-blue suit and even darker shade tie caught someone’s attention.

“I do believe there was someone new here, have you two seen him?” He fixed his suit a little, looking over to Ray and Lyle leaned up against the bar. They both pointed, almost simultaneously, at the semi-drunk Andrew. He remained at his spot, glancing over at the detective, and nodded. He offered his hat back to the doorman, and loosened his suit a little bit. Afterwards, he descended back past the two, adjusting his cufflinks. The duo from the bar realizes now what is about to happen, and moves away from the other two towards a more private part of the venue. 

“I hope it goes well for him…” Said Lyle, worried.

“I do too.” Ray replied, knowing that he couldn’t help in the slightest.

∞

He stirred himself back into consciousness, his head dangling like his whiskers on a bad day, and the headache in his head got heavier and heavier, and it’s without reason. He had been perfectly fine, even through the investigations that surrounded the controversies around Lackadaisy and recently more active Marigold. Although the delinquencies of Lackadaisy are on the lesser side of things, only made all the more excessive by one Roark Rickaby, they all tend to reach a certain degree of chaos that can’t go unnoticed. 

However, as time progressed, Lackadaisy faded from the investigative firm, and from his mind as a whole. Crime in St Louis wasn’t limited to just moonshining, and rum running, after all. A more recent debate has been passed around also, one including an ‘Atlas May’ and the details surrounding his death. His widow, Mitzi, has come forward and put a statement and alibi. He was there for when Russell questioned her, and asked other witnesses to confirm said alibi. However, as it turned out, one other person hadn't put forward any testimony, and the investigation seemed to be fixated on this person in particular.

Before he could theorize further, however, his hand felt something. It was a warmer, more gentle feeling. Something that liberated him and his dizziness gave way to a new clarity. He grabbed it back against his own instinct, it was… even warmer. His hands soon heated up, and he rose up from the sloppy mess from his overthinking and overwhelmed emotional state. His eyes scanned the bar surface, a glass of cocktail sits on his left, and the wood finish remained faintly reflecting the light above the bar. To his direct front, numerous bottles of different alcoholic beverages laid, and curved to the distance as he turned towards the person holding his hand. 

It was Russell, and he smiled at him.

“I’m so glad you made it, my friend.” His eyes finally met his deep blue eyes, something a deep morning lacks, and something the early morning is abundant of. He brought their hands up to and around his shoulders, as he too sat down besides the detective. His vision, blurred from reality, soon readjusted itself.

“Russell? Where were you?!”  The two erupted into a mix of laughter and a hint of sadness as they hugged each other, as some of the other patrons, including both Ray and Lyle, looked at the commotion from the corner. Andrew hugged him tight, as his tail wagged back and forth rapidly, with one swing almost knocking up his glass of French 75 that was set there.

“Oh my, you missed me that much, did you?” He jokingly asked, patting his partner on the back. Andrew laughed, and loosened his grip a little. Russell did the same, as he stood back a little and patted his shoulder. Somewhat gripping it also.

“So, how is this new place for you?” He asked, accompanied by a bright smile.

“It’s… something. [For] The time I’ve been here, the music is great, the atmosphere is low…” He let his eyes wander, trying to scan the venue for anything positive to say. To an extent, he did have a lot of good things he could say about this place, yet he lost his words somewhere in the storm of emotions brewing prior to Russell’s visit. 

“Oh so they’ve treated you well? I’m glad to hear that.” Russell laughed, before he reached into his own coat and ruffled amongst something that was inside. Something, now that he thinks about it, resembled a gun.

“Why of course they have. Now, is there anything–”

He felt something poking at his chest. As he opened his eyes from the laughter fully, he saw what was truly in Andrew’s eyes: an invoking glare, and his slitted eyes slitted silence into a somewhat talkative bar. His expression turned more sour, as he looked down to find out what was rubbing against his chest. A snub revolver, loaded with .38, greeted his heart’s door. Russell cocked the hammer as Andrew looked back up, now showing a slight bit of disappointment and worry through his complexion. Russell spoke, tilting his head up slightly.

“Jacobs. You’ve…” He paused, his eyes dashing about to look for the right word. “...looked too far into things you are not meant to look for.” He continued, still holding the heterochromic gray cat at a standstill, gun towards his beating heart.

“I did it, because the people wanted answers.” He retorted, still maintaining a calm expression despite the more life-threatening situation at hand. Russell scoffed at him. He had a nonsensical definition of such: justice. A blind power that defies the law, rights the wrongs and sometimes wrongs the rights. He lowered his gun slowly, and aimed it back up towards his neck.

“And what of your justice? What will you do now? Oh Detective, O great Sherlock Holmes…” He laughed again, Andrew looked back with his own judgmental stare. His ear twitched at every word he said, fueled by the taunts he puts out despite his partnership with him. “Justice serves only as a tool, for a fool.

“Your search for Foxglove eventually turned up here, did it not?” He taunted, quickly loosening his grip to pull out the same lighter he had been carrying. The same design, now more clearly laid in between his eyes, now takes on a whole different meaning as he stammered his next words.

“This… place, this whole thing… was Foxglove?”

He reached into his own pockets to pull out the same lighter, and held it against his. It was an exact match. As he did so, Russell turned his so that the side faced towards him, and a curved c shape, almost in the shape of a heart on one of those packaging boxes for Valentine’s Day. He too turned it, and it became the other half of a heart. Something that can spark itself on fire. As he focused back onto Russell with this newfound meaning, Russell smiled once again, putting his lighter back into his side pocket and holding the gun back into his coat to store away the revolver whilst twisting the drum to an empty chamber. 

Andrew remained in place, still processing this all in. He lowered his arm, and sat back down, still his mind wandered. What now could he make of the ongoing investigation? Even if he were to file this down, marking his own partner to be the supposed “suspect” responsible for all of the property damage that’s been increasing, not to mention all of the gunfights that bursted out within the few days? 

“So now you know the truth. Does it hurt? Does it mean anything?” He asked one more time, a defeated look reflected on both of their faces, as he turned his back to him. He didn’t know the repercussions of his words, nor what he would do next after he told his story. “Do you now know the slightest clue why I haven’t been talking about this? I’ve been just as conflicted as you are.” He slightly swallowed his own spit, and continued with a choked tone.

“Day after day I have to deal with this anxiety and fear because of ongoing tensions. I’ve yet to uphold my own responsibilities, and whatever I do in that office affects how this place operates. Everything I do, and subsequently everything you do. I have to backtrack my words, consideration at heart, and a weight on my shoulder because I know you would do everything, everything. All in the name of the truth.” At the end of everything, he sat down on a nearby stool, exhausted. He didn’t want to continue this further, as he stared lifelessly at the floor.

He didn’t expect his partner to sympathize with the way he handled this. All of this boiled past his emotions, his attitude and his usual calmness. His theories are further proven wrong, however, as Andrew puts a hand on his shoulder, and sits there beside him. “You’ve done a lot. I’m sorry, and I…” He paused, trying to find the right words. By now, he’s found himself flustered being next to him. He never admitted his crush on Russell, and his absence only made things worse.

Before Andrew could muster up anything else to say after that, he was pulled into his embrace, and he felt his lips touch Russell’s. It didn’t exactly process for him, at least not instantly, but they both just sat there, sleazily kissing each other as the bar’s quietness rose back to the usual sparks of conversations back and forth again. After a short while, they broke off the kiss and stared at each other, in a daze. Andrew’s cheap yet smug smile let Russell onto a tiny fit of laughter, as they held each other’s hands.

“I’m sorry, that was… fun.” He heaved a sigh, holding on to the table and standing up. However, it’s stopped by Andrew still holding his hand tight.

“You owe me another one tomorrow.”  He said, almost in a teasing way, as he followed suit. He grabbed the cocktail glass, now almost at room temperature given the conversation that ran through his entire evening, and gulped almost all of it. After a short while, he was shaken up by that drink alone: his tail pricked up, he lost some control of his body, subsequently collapsing onto Russell’s arms, and spilled the rest of the drink onto him. 

“Andrew!?-” He yelled, catching the intoxicated detective in his arms, almost bridal style, and slightly hissed at the cocktail spilled onto his shirt and coat. He wasn’t exactly pissed, but he was… annoyed. “You owe me a new suit.” He snapped back, almost half-heartedly, with  no response from the former. As he set down the detective on another stool, he put the glass back onto the bar, and sighed again. He, underneath all of this, had been running his due diligence in 

investigating the uproar of Marigold.

He had reasons to believe this was correlation and causation of Mordecai Heller. The Savoys are known to be eccentric, and oftentimes pose a threat to the whole city given their absolute control over Marigold without a clear direction. As for why they would target the same exact suppliers he’s been shutting down, despite keeping this an absolute secrecy to everyone outside of Andrew, is a mystery. In fact, one of the same people working for Marigold was found dead by him with a memo hastily written down: “Anything Foxglove touches will be ours.”

Russell took another look at the slumped over Andrew, and his fears and worries only surrounded the person he had called his lover. When time comes: whether it will be Marigold finding out about this place, Mordecai gaining an upper hand and deciphering Russell’s involvement in Atlas’ demise, or backstabbing, he will always keep his own partner in mind. 

“Everything I do is for you.”

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this Week #117 (Year 3/Week 13):

Victoria is an unusual low-budget, German crime thriller, and much to my surprise, my most interesting film of the week! It’s my second with lovely Spanish actress Laia Costa (after the romantic ‘Only you’), and my 8th ‘Single-take film’ (*).

The technical trickery for a 2+ hour long movie filmed in one long take by a single camera, wasn’t visually impressive, and definitely far from the artistic heights of ‘Russian Arc’, or ‘1917′. Basically, one nimble cameraman followed the developing story into clubs, rooftops, cars, streets, bars, and hotels without calling attention to itself.

Victoria is a young Spanish waitress in Berlin. After dancing all-night at a techno club, she meets a group of 4 small-time criminals, and hangs with them, getting drunk and stoned. Drawn to the aura of danger, she inexplicably agrees to join them, and ends up driving a stolen van for an adventure that quickly turns lethal.

The story itself didn’t gel until around the 45 minute mark. Just as I was ready to quit the movie, she sits down to a piano in an empty cafe, and after some coaxing from a guy, she beautifully plays one of Liszt Mephisto waltzes, disclosing that had studied music all her life, and had to give it up because she wasn’t good enough. From that point, the second half ‘tied the room together’ into an absorbing bundle. 8/10.

(*) After ‘Rope’, ‘Russian arc’, ‘Lost in London’, ‘Birdman’, ‘1917′, ‘Boiling Point’ and ‘Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes’.

🍿    

4 more with Léa Seydoux:

🍿 “... Some people, though talented, need help to thrive. They languish when left to their own devices...”

Léa Seydoux is so attractive that just watching her on the screen is like experiencing pure beauty, my definition of a superstar. My Wife's Romance is a slow psychological thriller about a woman whose husband disappears in mysterious circumstances. A different kind of a French drama, by a Tajik director, and with a parallel Tajik sub-plot. 7/10.

🍿 The Beautiful Person is a modernized teen drama adapted from an impenetrable 1678 historical novel. The many confusing intrigues of unrequited love among a group of 16 year-old high-schoolers and their teachers replace the complicated royal courtships of the classic story. But the only redeeming feature for me here was Seydoux’s ethereal beauty, which also effected everybody in the story who came in contact with her.

Strangely, both these two unrelated films ended with her saying the exact same sentence: “You will never see me again”. 2/10.

🍿 Prada: Candy, a 3 minute perfume ad, directed by Wes Anderson And Roman Coppola, about a threesome with Léa Seydoux, Umbrellas of Cherbourg-style.

🍿 Time doesn’t stand still, a meaningless artsy short film about caresses and goodbyes in one of them high-ceiling apartments of the good arrondissements.  

🍿    

First re-watch in 20+ years, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Ang Lee’s wuxia fairy tale was the first foreign-language film to break the $100 million mark in the US. With the beatific Zhang Ziyi. (Photo Above).

🍿  

2 with French character actor Richard Bohringer:

🍿 It’s not very clear through the first half of the French story The Grand Highway what is it about; Innocence Lost when 2 kids love each other like in ‘Jeux interdits’? A childless couple who despises each other like ‘Le Chat’? Or a rural drama like the nostalgic ‘Jean de Florette’?

A 9-year-old Parisian boy is sent for a summer to a small village in Bretagne, while his pregnant mother waits to give birth. He stays with the mother’s friend and her husband, whose relationship is cold and hostile, and he's befriended by a wild 10-year-old girl who teaches him the ways of the world. It’s a beautiful, romantic and evocative drama. Highly recommended - 7/10.

🍿 Angelina Jolie’s gorgeous 4th film, By The Sea, is about voyeurism and depression, but it ended up being an empty vanity exercise. The glamorous and wealthy Jolie and Brad Pitt arrives at one of the most romantic spots on earth, a small Maltese village, and stay at a magnificent Mediterranean villa by the coast. Their relationship is in tatters, she’s withdrawn and he drinks. Then they discover a peephole to the next suite, and they can watch a newly-married couple having sex. Will this heal their unexplained funk?

You want to love it but they won’t let you. She doesn’t speak, so we never find out why. He’s a writer who can’t write. Has there ever been a convincing movie about a writer. This one is not. 3/10.

However, I always love it when movies are 100% symmetrical, when climaxes occur on the dot, at the 30-minute and 60-minute points. Here too, the delineating point of the story happens exactly at 1 hour and 1 minute (out of a 2 hours and two minutes), when they start watching together the young couple next door fucking.  

🍿  

Enchanted April, another entry in the popular sub-genre of romantic travelogues to the Mediterranean areas of Italy, or the south of France. But the story of 4 different London women in the 1920′s who decide to rent an Italian villa on their own was not a feminist tale of emancipation and discovery, rather a boring class-based mush. My second mediocre film from Mike Newell (after the horrible ‘Love in the time of cholera’). 2/10.

🍿

The Killers X 4:

🍿 The killers (1946), my first film noir by Robert Siodmak. With Burt Lancaster (in his film debut) waiting fatalistically for death in his room, and Ava Gardner in her breakthrough role. The lead gets murdered in the opening scene, and the story is then told all in flash-backs. Got me wanting to watch ‘Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid’ again.

🍿 Re-reading the Hemingway short story on which the movie was based on, it’s obvious that the only part of the plot from the original story are the first 15 minutes, which have the best dialogue in the whole movie.

🍿 Don Siegel’s harsh remake transferred the Noir menace into the sunny racetracks of Rialto, CA. The very short Hemingway notion about a guy laying on a bed in a room who doesn’t run away from death, was completely removed here, and instead turned into a gory and violent pulp. Terrific 1964 pop-vibes with professional hit-men Lee Marvin and partner as the clear inspirations to Vincent Vega and Jules Winnfield.

But just seeing Evil Empire Ronald Reagan getting slapped is worth the price of admission.

🍿 There is also a 1956 Russian version of The killers, Andrei Tarkovsky very first short, directed when he was a student at a Moscow film school. He plays the second customer who comes to the bar.

🍿    

The Woman in the Window by Fritz Lang, another nightmarish film noir - actually the film that originated the term itself. A terrific suspense story about “respectable” professor Edward G. Robinson, who “strays” by accepting an offer for a drink with a woman not his wife, and MUST PAY FOR IT WITH HIS LIFE!

The trailer.

🍿    

Night Will Fall is a documentary about a documentary. It chronicles the making of ‘German Concentration Camps Factual Survey’, an official British documentary film on the Nazi concentration camps, which was based on actual footage shot by the Allied forces in 1945. Alfred Hitchcock’s was brought in from Hollywood to complete the original which would make it his only documentary. However, due to changing politics after the liberation, the original film was abandoned uncompleted, shelved and forgotten for 70 years.

Both films contain harrowing footage of the most gruesome atrocities as they were first discovered in Bergen-Belsen, Auschwitz, Majdanek and Dachau. 9/10. 

🍿    

Curiosity-Find!

The Poor Man of Nippur (2019) is the World’s First Film Made in Babylonian, the Language of Ancient Mesopotamia. It’s an adaptation of an old Akkadian story dating from around 1500 BC, found on an archeological site in Turkey. It tells the story of the three-fold revenge which the destitute Gimil-Ninurta wreaks on the local Mayor after the latter wrongs him. The film version of this ancient text is a creation of students from Trinity Collage and Cambridge Assyriology Department. The 20 minutes short is available on YouTube.

🍿    

2 with Gaby Hoffmann (Viva’s daughter!):

🍿  My second by Sebastián Silva (After the masterful ‘The Maid’), Crystal Fairy & the Magical Cactus. An off-beat drama about a self-absorbed Michael Cera who travels with 3 young Chilean friends to the desert, looking for an hallucinogenic plant, to trip on its mescaline-like properties. On the way, they pick up free-spirited Gaby Hoffmann whose new-age hippy-dippy sensibilities clash with the obnoxious Cera. Its rambling, shaky camera fits the sensitive growth story. 6/10.

In the background, Edward Sharpe‘s ‘Man on Fire’ is playing, so you know it’s good. 🍿 This is my life, Nora Ephron’s directorial debut. It’s about single mom Marge Simpson who becomes a comedian and her two daughters. This was 3 years after ‘Field of dreams’ so Hoffmann still looked and acted like Karin Kinsella. The movie itself was just not funny, or good.

🍿    

2.5 by Finnish director Jalmari Helander:

🍿 Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale, which Cate Blanchett named “one of her favorite movies”. A surprising Christmas horror comedy about hunting mean and evil Santa Clauses and training them as mall Santas, so they can be exported all over the world for the holidays. The well-told fable is told from a boy point-of-view. [From here].

This is based on his old throwaway joke short, Rare Exports Inc. which I remember from 2005.

🍿 He followed this with a big action-adventure film, Big Game, where the plane of the President of the United States, Samuel L. Jackson, is being shot down over the same remote area in Finland, and the same boy actor (as well as his father) rescues him and saves his ass. Lame. 3/10.

🍿

April's Daughters, my second by Mexican director Michel Franco’s unsettling Puerto Vallarta dramas. His existential ‘Sundown’, with his regular colleague Tim Roth, was emotionally mesmerizing, but so well-done. This one was an unpleasant roller-coaster, like a baby that won’t stop crying, which is a big part of this soundtrack. Here too there’s a protagonist who abandons their family without any explanation. A cruel mother and two young daughters who are left to fend for themselves. A Michael Haneke-style devastation.

🍿    

First watch: Grosse Pointe Blank. A romantic black comedy about a professional hit man, who’s cool as a Fonzie, or even as a Clarence Worley. Peak Minnie Driver, and Peak John Cusack, and with a score by Joe Strummer. So maybe I will watch True Romance once again (my most favorite Tarantino’s)?. 5/10.

🍿  

2 by Jessica McGoff:

🍿 My Mulholland, a creative video essay by the young Scottish intellectual about watching David Lynch's ‘Mulholland Drive’ when she was thirteen. (Via).

🍿 Her lovely short essay Balloons in Cinema (2021), Commissioned by BFI to support the release of the German movie ‘Balloon’. 

🍿  

A fascinating discussion between The Coen Brothers and their DP Barry Sonnenfeld, talking about how they shot and filmed their very first film, ‘Blood Simple’.  

Mentioned in the hour long talk is the fake trailer starring Bruce Campbell which they shot the year before, in order to raise the $1.5M for the movie.

Similar conversations on the ‘Cinematographers on cinematography’ YouTube channel.

🍿  

Re-watch: Crimes and Misdemeanors, a perfectly balanced Woody Allen movie. Multiple stories interlock brilliantly; existential guilt, subtle morals, blindness and murder. All the while he’s grooming his teenage niece, and tries to cheat on his wife. 9/10.

🍿  

Chris Rock: Tamborine, a 2018 stand-up special directed by Bo Burnham. 100% on Rotten Tomatoes. 

🍿  

After reading some good things that the new Tetris origin story is better than what it could have be, I gave it a try. However I couldn’t stay on for more than 19-20 minutes: With a non-charismatic, bland main guy, and superficial and infantile direction, dusting up an old copy of the game would have been much better use of that time. 1/10.

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

[ac3has6l00d]

Hi, I’m a simp! Please enjoy my google translated french. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rating: Pg-13, suggestive comments

A03 Tags: Grell Sutcliffe, Grelle Sutcliffe, Trans Female Grell Sutcliff,  Grelle Sutcliff, Established Relationship, Queer, WLW, girls being cute, late night prompt, They're gay harold, Girls in Love, me being gay for grelle, kinda-sorta reviewed by a reaper who likes snake, Bad French, google translated french

Notes: 

~Grelle is a Trans woman! So I will not tolerate any kind of turf shit in my comments, nor will I tolerate any kind of homophobia down there.

~There are so many mistakes in here, but I love her. Despite being a native English speaker, I am very bad at spelling, so if it's very bad please let me know :)

~Was "read over" by a friend of mine who is a reaper with brass knuckles (They have keychains on the side)

~The music while writing this includes "Ballistic" (Nonsense ft. TREKKIE TRAX CREW, and Ashnikko), "You Make Me Sick!" (Ashnikko), "Daisy" (Ashnikko), "Cry" (Ashnikko ft. Grimes), "Pink Rover" (Scene Queen), "Pink Panther" (Scene Queen), "The Rapture (but its pink)" (Scene Queen ft. Mothica), "Babalon" (Twin Temple), "Tengamos La Orgia Satánica" (Twin Temple), "Let's Have a Satanic Orgy" (Twin Temple), and "Let's Hang Together" (Twin Temple)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She would smile softly at me every so often as she messed with a strand of my hair that landed on her pillow. It was too early to get up and we had too much energy to fall back asleep. We were facing each other in bed as our boredom prolonged and time seemed to have stood still. I became hyper-aware of her in my half-state. The vermillion cotton chemise she wore to bed, how her hair tangles into a few scattered uzumaki since she's let it grow out, the faint aroma of the perfume I got her for a death day long passed, the dull hue of her ruby red lipstick stuck on her sweet lips, her entire being filled my senses. I stare lovingly at my wife- I truly cannot help myself either- she knows how she sways all of my past known human emotions when she looks away and pretends not to notice that I crave her and her attention. 

 When she does look towards my eyes, I can feel the warmth of her smile and the heat in her cheeks. She would mumble something about staring at her as weird, but both of us know that she loves the attention but refuses to acknowledge it. How could I not stare at her? When today of all days was the day she was reborn? The day she became the woman she was meant to be? 

Her verdant eyes glow as I rest my palm on the chiselled cheek that rests not on her pillow. “My love, why wouldn’t I be gazing at you and drinking you in as you radiate pure joy and bliss? It is the day you have been reborn all those years ago as the woman I know and love today! I cannot think about not enjoying every dying moment without you as I rise for the morning, work with you during the day, and rest with you in the evening!” With a brilliant flash of my sweet smile as I rejoice with the toothy grin she flares my way. 

“My Deadly Dearest, you know just what to say to make a woman sentimental even in the early waking hours of the dawn! Do you have anything planned for your lovely wife’s birthday?” She purrs. 

I nod a little, “I have a whole day planned out for the both of us… It can wait for a little longer though, I quite enjoy spending a spare restless moment with you, my ruby reaper.” 

“Is it all a secret, dear, or can your heart-holder be let in on the plans?” She inquires, the faint purse of her lips appearing as I gazed at her to think. I start humming the faint orchestra of the new ballet we visited, I faintly remember the flower ballad, a waltz if memory served. I would have picked up the rest of the song had I been listening but I was mesmerised by how her phosphorescent eyes cavorted across the stage with the dancers. “Well, once our day starts officially, I was thinking of making you breakfast in bed," I pause for a moment and wrap my arms around her waist, "then I managed to score a private tour of the Oxford gardens. After the gardens, we can get a luncheon at a place of your choosing. I'll be sure to pay for us, " I send her a wink, "And then laissez le bon temps rouler". 

She rolled her eyes at my Cajun French, our last anniversary trip, her suggestion being New Orleans, had ended with the both of us celebrating with new undead friends and lots of spirits that would make the living roll. "Reminding me of those nights in the French Quarter? I remember the last time I mentioned it to you at work, the blush on your face was cherry red and you mumbled for me to hush up for fear of who could hear". She looks at me quizzically before she lets out a light yawn, her sharp teeth almost making her resemble a cat yawning after being woken up from their noonly nap. " We still have a few more hours until we should start getting ready, my darling, I'm going to rest some more so we can be out as late as our bodies will let us”.

I nod some and pull her closer, our bodies already so tangled it would be hard to tell limb from limb in the morning, "I'm not stopping you from getting your beloved beauty rest, please, close your eyes and let your mind take you to its dream states.” I gaze at her lovingly for a moment before she shifts her head to rest on my chest, “je t'aime mon coeur.” I mumble to her. 

She sighs happily as I speak to her in one of her mother tongues and orientates herself so her voice wouldn’t be obscured from being buried into my clavicle, “You dare speak to me in such a way before I must go to bed? You know I love it when you speak to me in French, mon amour… keep that up and I will have you speaking to me in only muffled breaths and heady wails,” A faint crimson swells within my vessels, “I may not be as good as I was when we visited the French Quarter, but I’m sure with enough petting we can compromise,” She pauses dramatically, “ Alas, we must wait until later, you still have a day planned and I’m sure you would love to be able to stand.” I can almost feel the cheeky grin that creeps onto her pale face. 

I look down at her and shake my head at her slightly, “I sometimes wonder how I ended up marrying you, darling. But yes, with what I have for us tomorrow I believe it would be mutually beneficial if we were able to stand for long periods of time. Now get some more rest, you nympho-bastard”, I play at her as she pucks her lips up at me, I rest a kiss on her awaiting lips and mumble a small ‘I love you’ before she shuts her eyes. 

To help guide her to rest I go back to humming the waltz I hardly remembered. She is one to fall asleep quickly when she hasn’t slept well, and today is a perfect example. Our supervisor has been working her to no end while I rest uneasily at the office when she doesn't return for our usual luncheon. She deserves these next few days off and the plans I have made for her, if not for her birthday, then for her sanity. Mr Spears be damned if he tries to call us in when she has so diligently changed her ways and became the respectable -yet flirty-  reaper I knew she could be, “I am so glad I married you, my beautiful wife, my ruby red reaper, the holder of my heart, my everything. Later will be filled with nothing but love and celebration of you. Just like those nights in the french quarter. Those nights we spent together I was worshipping you as you drank yourself to the floor and as I dragged you to bed to rest and recover for the next day of debauchery. I remember how the emeralds we have that are our eyes glimmered as you gazed at me from the bed while I tended to you, the soft mumble of ‘je t'aime’, ‘Mon amour, tu te soucies beaucoup de moi’ and with your arms out wide for me, ‘Viens me câliner, ma belle’”, I let out a light laugh that turns to a light yawn, “Your french is beautiful my darling, and I can only hope to reach your grace one day. We are guaranteed eternity so learning it and speaking it with you is only a matter of time”. I nestle closer to her and yawn once more, “Pour l'instant, laissez-nous dormir. Je t'aime, Grelle” I shut my eyes and sleep finds me almost instantly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some rough translations ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Cajun French "laissez le bon temps rouler" "Let the good times roll"

French “je t'aime mon coeur” "I love you sweetheart" "mon amour" "my love" "je t'aime" "I love you" "Mon amour, tu te soucies beaucoup de moi" "My love, you care a lot for me" or "My love, you care a lot about me" "Viens me câliner, ma belle" "Come give me a hug, beautiful" “Pour l'instant, laissez-nous dormir. Je t'aime, Grelle” "For now, let us sleep. I love you, Grelle."

[nitebloom]

top five perfumes ^_^

omgggg ty for this i loveeee e perfume sm so im gonna nerd out a lil here ...

full disclosure i love grandma perfumes LOL

1 fracas by robert piguet - my beloved, my truluv, my 1 and only, the ultimate white floral tuberose peachskin indolic ecstatic magic shakti, if tamara de lempickas painting of theresa of avila was a perfume .... im a fracas girl till i die <3

2 blue waltz by ??? another faveee ...perfect baby powder puff in a 1930s french bordello... like loves baby soft (another fave) but w amazing longevity and rly pretty incensy benzoin ...bonnie parker wore this....also its like $5?!?!?!

3 lancome tresor

peachy magick musk ...also the perfumer who made it sophia grojsman is like an actual fairy goddess muse & this is like her mona lisa lol

4 etat libre d’orange- jasmin et cigarette

ive loveddd this since i was like 16 it makes me think of marlene dietrich n is sooooo nice, love a cigarette note lol even tho it kinda reminds me of like a super dark chocolate here...with the prettiest cool jasmine jam mmmm i need to save up for another bottle

5 florida water - honestly a life essential and the smell is 1 of my favorites, like a floral orange clove ... i always have this around in a blue apothecary spray bottle and use it like a body spray

<3333333😘😘😘😘😘

[haut-bailly]

SHARING EMOTIONS: THE WORDS THAT SAY IT ALL

Every spring, for the Primeurs, tasters, sommeliers, experts, brokers, merchants, importers, distributors and journalists from all over the world travel to Léognan, along the narrow roads leading to the highest croup on the Left Bank, where the exceptional terroir of Château Haut-Bailly lies.

Without this terroir, its geographical location, its geological site, the pedological features of its hillside, its exposure and the unique heritage of its vines, some of which are over a hundred years old, the vineyard would not produce the fine grapes that give Haut-Bailly wine its precious character.

And without the passionate teams who express and sublimate it, these women and men who, in the vineyards as in the cellar, are the artisans of a style that is all truth and authenticity. This identity remains unchanged throughout the years - the conveniences and excesses of fashion pass, only style remains, and that of Haut-Bailly is truly timeless, and so contemporary.

We therefore asked a linguist*, using last April's tasting comments as a corpus, to identify the formants of the perceived image of the 2023 vintage, to extract the main lines and, beyond that, to indicate what this image says about Haut-Bailly.

Purity, finesse, elegance, precision, fruit, flavour, subtlety, class: this semantic portrait of Haut-Bailly, as drawn up by the twenty or so most notorious 'signatures' of the 2023 tasting, undeniably reflects the demanding winegrowing and winemaking vision shared by the estate's teams.

There are many noble attributes on which most of the tasters agree, albeit from different origins, cultures and languages.

Finesse, multi-dimensional, as underline French critics as “fine woody nuances that work behind the scenes",  "the attack that announces the wine with delicacy", "a version that is all finesse, expressive, immediately charming, undeniably slender", delivering "a subtle and discreet wine". Finesse is no less adulated by foreign journalists (as Haut-Bailly exports 90% of its production to over 80 countries):  "there’s a vibrancy paired with elegant, fine tannins, and purity and length", "much more about finesse than power", "so effortless" with "chalky tannins that are supple with finesse and grain"

Precision, as revealed by a "precise attack", a "precise bouquet", a "precise wine", "a very precise, sinewy, lithe palate" or the fact that "the palate is dense, focused and precise".

Purity which, as we have seen, is the central attribute of a "linear, pure wine" or "extremely pure and delineated", giving rise to "an incredible sense of purity and elegance" with "the purity of fruit here" and also "purity of rose bud and liquorice".

The wine's flavour is celebrated, a "pure, gripping flavour" with "an obvious focus on fruit - red berries and blackcurrants - and freshness", a "fleshy scent of red peony" and a juice that is "creamy on the palate, (which) reveals the velvety caress characteristic of Haut-Bailly". English speakers are no less enthusiastic, qualifying the wine as"so savoury and moreish" and "so graceful and opulent with perfumed redcurrants, darker berries, dried herbs, flowers and tobacco". "It waltzes out with showy scents of boysenberry preserves, stewed plums, and fruit cake, followed by underlying suggestions of Indian spices, menthol, graphite and lavender, with a hint of cardamom". Reading these comments makes you salivate and lets you feel the happiness: the emotion of the tasting is there to be shared.

The length charms and surprises, as this is "a wine of rare persistence" offering "sensational freshness, salinity and elegance" and "plenty of hidden depths", as "the full-bodied palate is rich and seductively plush, with layers of black fruits and exotic spices, plus mint and floral sparks, finishing long and fragrant" – an exceptional length: “It boasts more grip and persistency on the finish than its peers, with a residual subtle pinch of black pepper".

Majesty, meaning a grandeur and nobility that command respect: French critics celebrate the wine as a "royal road", "fullness and serenity", "a powerful, deep, invigorating Haut-Bailly...with vigorous tannins", "a great success, which confirms that less massive vintages are wonderfully suited to Haut-Bailly"... or again, in Shakespeare's language, "a very serious wine", "sophisticated", proving if proof were needed that "this ranks as one of the standout wines in Pessac-Léognan, perhaps in Bordeaux itself. Outstanding."

The distinction that is the hallmark of the estate's greatness signs the prais: "once again, Haut-Bailly!" and its legendary "distinguished flavour", through which "the identity of the cru is perfectly transcribed", that of a Grand Vin that "remains true to its identity: bravo, superbly elegant" with "this undeniable sense of class and finesse that define this château", "a wine that represents the new spirit of Bordeaux: understatement and class."

In this way, the dominant semantic fields create identity patterns that position the estate at the centre of Haute-Viticulture. Just as there are the “Maisons de Haute Couture”, there is on the Left Bank a temple of winemaking that the new Haut-Bailly winery embodies, delivering exceptional wines in terms of sovereign elegance, singular style and finesse.

Haut-Bailly, as a subject - with its wine, its terroir, and its people - inspires poetic and precise prose

It is striking to see the extent to which the style of the tasting notes is no less incomparable than the style of the Grand Vin. It seems that, inspired by the quality of the welcome extended to them, the endearing beauty of the surroundings, the wines they taste, the food they enjoy at the Table Privée - in short: their experience, visitors to Haut-Bailly - who always say they are welcomed as friends of the house, not just guests - write about their overall experience in a way that feels both sculpted and sincere. The words captured by these wine lovers are the true expression of Haut-Bailly, in 2023 as in previous years.

In their own way, each of the commentators expresses themselves with sensitive care, clearly concerned with the precision of the terms used, attentive to the verbal aesthetics and the register of language chosen to talk about the estate and its wine. We would like to thank them all.

*Pascal Beucler, our semiotician

**Jane Anson, Yves Beck, Michel Bettane, Bernard Burtschy, Yohan Castaing, Louis-Victor Charvet, Pierre Citerne Béatrice Delamotte, Jeb Dunnuck, Antonio Galloni, Georgie Hindle, Chris Kissack, James Lawther, Jeff Leve, Ella Lister, Lin Liu MW, Alexandre Ma, Neal Martin, Clio Perrin, Lisa Perrotti-Brown, James Suckling, Jean-Marc Quarin, Adrian van Velsen, Tjark Wisser

[henry-and-the-seven-lords]

I have had this song stuck in my head for DAYS and I think about the Brothers everytime I hear it... so here is some little song blurbs.

I Don't Miss You at All

Inspiration ~ I Don't Miss You at All by FINNEAS

Find the full Lyrics Here.

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

💙 Lucifer

But I think our song is comin' on

And now I wanna crash the car

But I won't

Make that mistake again and fall

Lucifer sits in his office after another long day listening to his favorite record with a cup of Demonus in his hand. He swirls the liquid as the song he was listening to comes to an end. Slowly the next one begins. He closes his eyes and takes in the harmonic sound. Opening his eyes, he realizes why this song is so important to him.

Lucifer guided the human in the waltz for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Can we please have one more dance, Lucifer?"

He sighs staring at their big pleading eyes. It almost makes him want to say yes, "I have work, MC. Maybe after."

They rush to him grabbing his sleeve before quietly speaking, "Please?"

His eyes prick with hot tears at the memory. Without a thought he stands up, making his way over to the machine before snapping the record in half.

Upon realization of his actions, Lucifer collapses. Hot tears streaming down his face at what he has lost.

💛 Mammon

I don't get distracted by your smile

And miss the green lights drivin' home

No sign of stoppin'

The house isn't far

Mammon had gone out driving to blow off some steam after Lucifer threatened him. He was going pretty fast until he saw the light turn yellow and began to stop.

As he stopped at the red light, he his attention to the passenger seat out of habit expecting to find an awaiting MC.

"How about we play a game. At every red light, I ask you a question and you have to answer." MC smiled at him as the car slowed to a stop.

He turned his gaze to them, gently putting his hand on the side of their seat, "Sure, ask away."

A small smile crossed his face as he watched them think of a question.

"What was your favorite birthday and why?" MC turned to him with a smile as they awaited his answer.

"Hmm," Mammon thought hard before finally remembering, "Probably my 1,500th. We were still in the Celestial Realm at the time and all the angels sang happy birthday to me. It was really nice." A blush filled his face at the thought of all that attention.

MC gently touched his arm pulling him out of his thoughts, "It sounds amazing."

Mammon is pulled out of his memory by incessant honking behind him. With a quick glance he sees that about ten cars have gotten in line behind him.

He looks up at the light and sees it's green. He puts his foot on the gas, speeding through red lights, going as fast as he can back to the House of Lamentations as hot tears fly off his face in the cold wind.

🧡 Leviathan

But I won't

Break down at 2 AM and call

'Cause I don't

Miss you at all

Levi stares at the computer screen at it flashes the words "Two Player" at him.

His brain slowly rakes through all his friends u til he glances over at his D.D.D.

Levi looks down at his phone to see a message from MC.

MC: I can't finish this mission unless I have a player two... are you busy?

Levi smiles. Before sending his own response.

Levi: Are you sure it isn't just to use me for my levels?

MC responds with a shocked reaction before sending another message.

MC: Of course not! If I am being honest, I can't sleep and I wanted a distraction.

Another smile spreads across his face at the thought of MC coming to him for help over his brothers.

Levi: My door is open, but you better know the password!

Levi begins to reach for his phone, but hesitates before pulling his hand away.

His hand slowly travels back to his controller as he exits out of the game with tears in his eyes.

💚 Satan

All but forgotten

About those eyes

The shade of green that if he'd seen

Would make F. Scott Fitzgerald cry

Satan splashes water on his faces quickly before looking up into the mirror. The demon stares back at himself before he meets his striking green eyes and freezing.

"Satan, your eyes are so vibrant." He chuckles at the human's comment as they stand behind him in the mirror.

His eyes trail their body before focusing on their eyes in the mirror.

"Well I think yours are just as striking." He smirks at them as he watches them blush and chuckle.

"Sure. But mine aren't as amazing as yours. I could see authors writing using thousands of words to describe just how beautiful they are." Their eyes are dreamy as they stare deep into his eyes.

Satan's face contorts into one of frustration and anger as he stares into his own green irises.

His hand moves without warning as it balls into a fist and moves towards the mirror with all his force. A scream emerges from his throat as well as his knuckles make contact with the reflective glass causing it to shatter.

He stares again at the now broken mirror, a fraction of its former self. In one swift movement, he washes his now cut hands of blood before pushing his hair back and leaving the mess behind him as his eyes begin to sting.

💖 Asmodeus

'Cause, no, I can't

Recall your scent

Jasmine, tuberose, and lily

Or your silly French accent

Asmo was taking inventory of his perfumes and colognes as he does every month. As he makes his way through each scent he comes across one that is all too familiar to him.

"Asmo! This one smells amazing! How did you know I love jasmine, lily and tuberose?" MC gently held the glass bottle in their hand as they sprayed it on their wrists again.

"I have my ways. I even bought one for myself so when people on the street see us, they know we are together." Asmo smiled as he stared at them happily gazing at the bottle.

"I really do love it Asmo. Thank you." Their eyes sparkled with adoration as they looked deeply into his.

Asmo narrows his eyes at the bottle before spraying it on his wrists and putting it away.

He walks away with a scowl on his face, giving up his previous need to inventory his scents. But for the rest of his night, he smells his wrists and let's out a small sob after.

❤ Beelzebub

And I barely still remember

Who's in the pictures on my wall...

...And it feels so good

Eating alone

Beel pulls out his instant Ramen from the microwave. Carefully he makes his way to the table with the delicacy in his hands.

He begins to prepare to eat as the intoxicating aroma hits his nostrils and sends him deep into a memory.

MC carried their own bowl of Ramen up to their room as Beel followed slowly behind them, "Come on Beel I want to show you my new photos while we eat!"

When the two finally get to MC's room the sit on the floor. Beel begins to slurp his noodles as MC grabs photos and thrusts them into Beel's face.

"Don't they look great?" Their voice was filled with excitement as Beel stared at himself during a Fangol game.

He slowly nods as he takes a sip of the broth.

"I am glad you like it. I want to take pictures of all seven of you every week and then put them on my wall."

He looked up to see past pictures as he began to hear them slurp next to him.

Beel takes a quickly look around the room only to find himself alone before he looks down at his Ramen. He sighs.

He still digs in with just as much fervor, bit it tastes saltier than he remembers as his cascading tears mix with the noodles.

💜 Belphegor

And I'm sleepin' fine

I don't mean to boast

But I only dream about you

Once or twice a night at most

Belphie squeezes the warm mass in his arm before opening his eyes and seeing MC's back. He smiles at the human in his arm.

"Is my little human still sleepy?" His voice is hoarse from the lack of use.

MC giggles as they roll over and stare him in the eyes, "Nope!" After they finished speaking, MC bolts from his arms with a smile on their face.

Belphie lurches awake with a start. Frantically he looks around the dark attic for the figure he just saw in his dream before he starts patting the bed.

"MC!? MC!?"

After a minute or so of frantic searching, he is confident he is alone.

Tears prick the corners of his eyes and he turns his gaze to the ceiling.

Loud screams fill the room as Belphie begins to pound the bed with his fists. And just as fast as it began, it stops. Belphie falls back onto the plush pillows and returns to his slumber.