#if she did fuck her even more then possible

[natlovesls2]

Stupid In Love

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Word count: 5k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Warnings: fluff, slight angst and arguments, reader is written as American but only mentioned a few times, brief use of one bed trope, possible grammatical errors, no use of y/n, switches pov and might not be obvious, a little rushed, swearing, alcohol, I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), American football, images used are not mine as are from pinterest, was written before Logans replacement =(

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Summary: Your sister invites you to her wedding, theres only one problem: you're single and your family has already been pressuring you about it. Logan offers to be your date, what can go wrong? or you and Logan being oblivious about your feeling for one another while fake dating

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

You’re unsure of how or why you fell in love with Logan, but you fell hard and fast– so fast that it made it impossible for you to catch yourself before it was too late. What you did know was that your feelings were not reciprocated. Despite what your shared friends said, Logan was not in love with you, and he definitely did not look at you as if you hung up the moon and the stars. Though you were an idiot when it came to love, there was only one thing worse than someone who is an idiot about love. That is an idiot in love, and that's what you were– stupidly in love. 

“My sister is getting married, and our parents have made it their mission to rub it in my face. They act like I’m pushing fifty– I’m only twenty fucking two that's not old,” you groaned, letting your body drop onto the couch in your living room. 

Logan watched you from across the room– face scrunching up at the mention of your parent's comments, “That's definitely not old, so what if you're not dating someone? There are more important things in life.”

“They think otherwise; they think that my life is a failure because I’ve never been in a serious relationship, or at least not one I considered serious– like that somehow defines me as a person,” the sound of rustling in the kitchen catching your attention, “Are you seriously eating without me?” you ask, instantly sitting up, looking in the direction of the kitchen.

“No.”

“You’re a horrible liar; you're literally talking with your mouth full right now.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. But seriously, what's so bad about your sister getting married? Besides the comments made by your parents?” Logan asked, handing you a french fry as you approached the kitchen. 

“Nothing is wrong; she just had the bright idea of giving me a plus one; can you believe her? That fucking cunt, she knows I’m a pathetic loser with no love life, and she still gave me a plus one,” you dramatically shove food into your mouth.

“She did not,” Logan said, letting out an overdramatic fake gasp before breaking into a fit of laughter– bending over slightly and holding onto his stomach. He was a good friend– a great one even, but now, as he stood there laughing, you couldn't help but feel annoyed. It wasn't annoyment because of the situation or the fact that he was laughing at the situation– no, you were annoyed at the fact that he looked so good doing it. 

“You’re an asshole; stop laughing at me,” you say, throwing a french fry at Logan from across your kitchen island, watching as he attempts to catch it with his mouth and failing miserably. Even something so minuscule as that action, something he usually did when you threw food at him, caught your attention. 

“It’s not the end of the world; it’s just a wedding,” Logan threw food back at you, his smile falling as he noticed your pensive stare. 

“Yeah, a wedding where I’ll be hounded about finding a boyfriend and potential husband,” you let your head fall against the kitchen counter, letting out a loud sigh, silently whispering to yourself– asking the universe what you had done wrong to deserve this fate.

“If you’re really worried about getting made fun of, I’ll go with you. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend,” he said nonchalantly, and you felt him rest his head beside yours against the counter. You turn to face him, opening your eyes to meet his own, and you immediately notice he's smiling again. A soft smile that makes your stomach feel fuzzy– the type of fuzzy you probably shouldn't be feeling. You could almost feel yourself shifting your head towards his own, but it never moved. It was a good thing, though you couldn't help but feel frustrated with yourself. Logan was your friend– you could probably consider him your best friend, yet here you were, feeling like a fool. 

“Really? You’re not joking right now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, afraid that the tone of your voice would betray you and reveal your thoughts and feelings.

“Not joking, I’ll do it," he straightens himself, resting his elbow on the counter, tilting his head, waiting for your response.

“You’re an angel, Logan,” you jump from your position to wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly– you're sure you're cutting off his air supply. Though he'd never complain, Logan had never been the type to complain when you hugged him too tightly. It was something you never understood about him, why he put up with so much of your bullshit– the sudden wedding invitation included.

“Only for you,” he hugged you back, though not as tight as you were hugging him, gently patting your back, “So when’s the wedding?”

“In a month.”

“Oh, wow… you could’ve told me sooner,” his voice full of shock and disbelief as he pried himself out of the hug to look at you.You couldn't help but feel disappointed at the lack of close physical contact– something you rarely felt. Whenever you ended a hug with Logan, you felt normal, as if it were any other hug. This felt different, a type of difference that you couldn't quite place. Maybe it was fear, or maybe you just didn't know the feeling– all you knew was that you were glad you would have time with him on this trip.

“Well, I sorta thought I’d have a date by now,” you said, voice dripping with melancholy and regret. For a while, the first three months since you got the invitation, to be exact, you had hoped and expected to find a date. You had come close to doing so, falling short every time, realizing that you had high standards that most men did not meet. But as you stared at Logan, you wondered if perhaps, this whole time, you had been waiting for him– not him in particular, but someone like him. 

“Okay, well, where is the wedding being held?”

“My parents' house, where we grew up. It's a ranch, nothing too crazy,” you could already imagine the fresh air of the property and the salty breeze of the nearby beach. The thought of relaxation quickly crashed by the topic of your current conversation– the wedding. Of course, there would be no relaxation during a wedding, especially not at your sister's wedding, where you would have to pretend to be dating your best friend. 

“So more of a family only with a few friends, type of wedding?”

“Exactly,” you took a bite of the food that had gone forgotten for a moment, “I owe you big time,” you assured Logan. It would be shitty of you if you didn't at least offer up the idea of being indebted to him– though, truthfully, you knew Logan would never hold this above you, let alone actually make you pay the debt. 

“Yeah, you do.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The drive to your parent's house from the airport is quiet, the argument from before still lingering between you. You feel Logan’s eyes occasionally dart between you and the road. He lets out a deep sigh, pulling over at a shoulder, turning off the ignition, and turning to face you— his eyes examining you as you look straight ahead. You could sense his hesitation, but refused to acknowledge the situation, still mad at what he had done earlier. The road was eerily empty, and as the sun set, the approaching night seemed to set the mood for the current state of your friendship— cold and dimming. 

“This was a mistake,” you finally say, turning to look at Logan, watching as he shakes his head— dryly laughing at your words.

“This would’ve been fine if you had told me your family was still close to your ex,” you can tell he is attempting to keep a calm demeanor, voice tense with a slight shake. 

“I didn’t think it was important,” you feel frustrated with the situation, and your voice showed it. You had meant for it to sound that way– you weren't mad at Logan; you could never be mad at him... or maybe you were.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell your date that your ex-boyfriend will be there too?” his eyes wide with disbelief at the audacity of your statements. You, of course, felt as if he was exaggerating– making a big deal out of something as small as a family friendship.

“This is fake, Logan— this isn’t a real date. It’s not like I had an actual obligation to tell you!” you yelled at him, mind foggy– you weren't thinking straight, aggravated in the situation at hand, and annoyed with your sister more than anything. Though you could feel your anger and frustration with Logan rise. 

He goes quiet, jaw clenching and hand gripping the steering wheel to the point where his knuckles are turning white, as he angrily turns the car back on. You were unsure if you should break the silence, afraid to further escalate the situation. The tension only grew the further he drove and the closer you got to your childhood home.

"Look, I'm sorry for overreacting. I know we're not actually dating, but I want your family to like me," he finally says as you arrive at your destination, nervously running his hand through his hair. 

"Hmm."

"Please don't be mad," he placed his head against the steering wheel, mumbling to himself-- you couldn't quite hear all that he said. Though you caught something about being an idiot and always ruining everything. 

"I'm not mad, and I'm sure my family will love you; who wouldn't?"

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“Jade, this is Logan; Logan, this is my sister, Jade,” you introduce Logan and your sister, awkwardly motioning between them. 

“Hi, it's nice to meet you,” Logan stretches out his hand for your sister to shake, but instead, he is pulled into a big hug.

“Nice to meet you too,” She pulls away from the hug, looking Logan up and down– smiling widely, “My god, sis, you didn’t tell me you were dating someone this good-looking.”

“Jade, don’t.”

“What? He’s hot,” she insists, looking him up and down-- causing you an overwhelming amount of embarrassment. 

“God, I am so sorry,” you quickly say to Logan; you wished the earth would open up at that moment and swallow you whole. Your sister had the tendency to embarrass you, constantly bringing up your past cringe moments. Like the time you stuffed your bra in middle school, and she, for some reason, brought it up a few years later in front of your prom date. It wasn't that she did it with some malicious intent; she just happened to have no grasp on boundaries and social cues.

“No, no, it's fine,” he said with a slightly amused smile, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. He always got a kick out of seeing you embarrassed, and you knew this would be something he teased you about later. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long; so much has changed since you’ve been gone,” she says, holding up her left hand to show off her ring with a wide smile. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“The old barn was turned into a little studio, so that’s where you two will be staying,” She leads you to the old barn, unlocking it and giving you a small tour. “Mom and Dad will be home later, but honestly, they probably won't bother you. Especially Dad, he's in a mood, but I’m sure Mom will drop by to say hello,” she says, standing near the front door, smiling at you and Logan, “There’s only one bed, so I’m sure you two will have fun, if you know what I mean,” violently winking at you. 

“Please ignore her; she's just trying to embarrass me– more than she already has,” you tell him, ushering your sister out of the studio. “Has she ever told you about that time in middle school when…” you quickly shut the door behind her before she can say anything and turn back to Logan, who is standing there with a small smile. You can't help but wonder why he's smiling or what he's smiling at. You can almost feel yourself smiling back– almost, but you stop yourself.

“Well I like your family so far.”

“You've only met my sister.”

“Yeah, but she’s fun,” he says, following you into the small kitchen, leaning against the door frame. 

“Whatever, you say. I was thinking I'll take the couch and you take the bed.”

“No way, there is no way my fake girlfriend, but very real best friend, is sleeping on the couch,” he protests, pushing himself off of the door frame to stand besides you as you rummage through the refrigerator. 

“Well, I won’t allow my guest to sleep on the couch.”

“We can share the bed, just put a pillow barrier between us.”

“Pillow barrier? What are we twelve?” you scoff, turning to look at Logan, eyebrows raised in exasperation. 

“Right, so I’ll take the couch.”

“You are not sleeping on the couch, Logan!” voice raised as your frustration with the situation continues to grow.

“Alright, I’ll sleep on the floor if that's what you want,” he said, attempting to hold back a smile, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re being difficult on purpose.”

“Then lets share the bed”

“Fine!” you finally give in, knowing that there was no winning against Logan and you'd much rather save your sanity. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to shower; do you need to use the bathroom?”

“No, but I’ll make us lunch.”

“Alright, thank you,” he said, hesitating as if he wanted to say something else before walking out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“What are you doing?”

“Putting up the pillow barrier”

“I thought you said we weren’t twelve?” he asked with a teasing smile. You stared at him blankly, unsure if how to respond, watching as he lay on the left side of bed. “Come on, just lay down already,” he removed the pillow barrier, hugging one of the pillows as he patted the empty spot on the bed. 

Hesitantly you laid on your spot, turning to look at him, “You’re so weird.”

Logan let out a chuckle, “Yeah, but you love me,” he whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah,” you responded, closing your eyes– and you truly did mean it, you loved him. 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You expected the rehearsal dinner to make you uncomfortable, but you weren't fully prepared– hoping it would pass like a blur you wouldn’t remember. That, of course, had been foolish-- as you stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself, you couldn't help but feel the oncoming dread. 

“What's wrong?” Logan asks, coming to stand beside you, carefully fixing his shirt in the reflection, “You look like you'll throw up at any moment.”

Your expression is blank, lips shut tight and unmoving despite having been asked a question. It felt as if you were unable to speak, afraid to open your mouth and vomit before having anything to eat or drink, “I just… I’m nervous,” you play with the hem of your dress, flattening the bottom of it and using it as an excuse to wipe away the clamminess of your hands. 

“You look beautiful. I’m sure everything will go smoothly, and I’ll be by your side the whole time, I promise,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the top of your head, placing a small kiss on your forehead.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You stood at the edge of the rehearsal dinner event, Logan by your side, as you watched the people around you socialize. In the center of the backyard was a long table with plates and glasses. Family from both sides and close friends are scattered around the yard as your sister and her fiance make their way around the place, speaking to everyone. 

“I’m glad you finally have someone in your life, little Jade,” your sister's fiance, Mark, commented as they approached you and Logan. “Jade told me all about you, and I’m not going to lie, I googled you,” he laughed, patting Logan on the back in a friendly manner as if they were old friends. 

“Find anything interesting?” Logan asks with an intrigued smile on his face. You're relieved that he isn't absolutely weirded out about being googled.

“Just the usual, that you're from Florida– and that's just rubbing me the wrong way. I also read that you're a Dolphins fan, and I’m a Niners fan sooo...”

“I think we can put football behind us,” Logan laughs lightly; you can't help but admire his laugh. It's the type of laugh that brings a smile to your face and warms your heart.

“Oh, definitely; I think you and I will be great friends. We’re practically family now; you better not break my sister-in-law's heart. I’m watching you, carboy,” he warns, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ hand motion as he walks off with your sister. 

“He seems nice,” Logan says with a small smile, subconsciously wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “Wait, did he call me carboy?” he asks, turning to look in the direction they had just left. 

“Yeah he did, he’s something, but he definitely likes you,” You smile up at him— your smile growing wider as you notice your father approaching the both of you. 

“Papa, this is–”

“I’m Logan, her boyfriend,” he interrupts you, stretching out his hand to shake your father's hand. 

Your father looked Logan up and down, analyzing the way he dressed, what he said, and especially how he held himself. He ignores Logan's outstretched hand, brows furrowing as he turns to look at you with a stern look. Your smile falters as you watch Logan's hand fall back to his side, and your father walks away from your conversation. 

“That went well,” Logan's voice was filled with sarcasm as he watched your father approach a young man your age, “Who is he talking to?”

“Hm?” you turn in the direction your father left in, body tensing as you see who he is currently conversing with. Micheal, your ex-boyfriend of three years– the guy your parents so desperately wanted you to get back together with. The guy you had thought you would marry and eventually have kids with. “That's THE ex-boyfriend.”

Logan scoffs, your father's sudden coldness making sense; he was the outsider causing the rift between you and the man your father wanted to see you with. You had hoped he would be accepting of Logan; he was usually a wholehearted person– the type to treat someone as if they had known each other their whole life. This was something you had always loved and admired about him, though the way he was acting today was the exact opposite of that. 

“Don’t think too much into it; let's just focus on what we have to do. We can talk to other people; my mom loves you.”

“Yeah, but your dad is definitely still in love with your ex. What are you going to do when you bring a real boyfriend to meet your dad?”

“I haven’t thought of that… oh god, don’t turn,” your warning goes unheard as Logan turns to see your ex-boyfriend walking towards the both of you. 

“So you're my replacement,” Michael rolled his eyes at Logan, face full of disgust, as if he was above Logan. 

“Nice to meet you; I’m Logan,” Logan straightened his back, clearly attempting to show Michael that he was not intimidated by him.

“Where'd you find him anyway?” Michael asks you, refusing to acknowledge Logan, let alone look at him. 

“That's really none of your business.”

He looked Logan up and down, as your father had, scoffing at Logan– as if he were better than Logan. You knew this was what he was thinking; he had always had a superiority complex during your relationship. Constantly reminding you that he would always be the best you could have. It was one of, if not the main reason you had decided to break up with him. However, he had charmed your family– your father, in particular, was in love with him.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it, baby,” Michael took a step forward, attempting to get closer to you.

“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that,” Logan says, stepping between you and Michael with a stern look on his face.

“She doesn't love you; she was still texting me a few months ago. Did she tell you that?”

Logan turned to you, face showing slight betrayment– you were unsure of how to respond or what to do. You could slightly remember the text messages, mostly started by him, but you had still responded. Maybe it was out of boredom or sheer loneliness you had felt– or the complicated feelings you felt towards Logan.

“That doesn't give you the right to insult her,” Logan pushes Michael back with two fingers.

“Whatever, enjoy my leftovers– and know that her family will never accept you.” Michael walked away from the conversation, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. You didn’t want to be here anymore; you regretted dragging Logan into the situation. This would only ruin your opportunity to confess your feelings. Why would he ever want to date you knowing that your father had a weird attachment to your ex-boyfriend? Who would willingly put up with that; certainly not Logan. 

“Why does your dad even like him? He’s a piece of shit.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t act like that around my parents; I guess he has them fooled.”

Soon, you all found yourself seated around the long table; to your horrible luck, you had been seated across from Michael. You weren't sure what came over you when you grabbed Logan's hand; perhaps it was nervousness or the shaking feeling you felt-- his hand served as an anchor in your opinion. It was keeping you from losing your mind as Michael smirked at you from across the table. 

"Are you okay?" Logan whispers, gently squeezing your hand-- attempting to reassure you and alleviate your many worries, leaning into you. When you don't respond, Logan takes it as his sign to continue talking to you, "I've got you, don't worry."

The sound of glass being tapped draws your attention to the foot of the long table, where your sister and her fiance stand. "I want to thank all of you for coming. It means so much to both Mark and I. To my parents, thank you for all the love and support you have shown during these past few days. To my sister, you have been the best sister anyone could ask for; I can only hope your wedding is next," Jade winks in Logan's direction, causing him to laugh, and your father glares at both your sister and Logan.

You smiled at Logan, and for a moment, you forgot it was all fake. It felt as if he was actually in love with you, as in love as you were. And as the night grew, so did your love for Logan. You were certain you were in love with him, and as delusional as it sounded, you hoped– longed for him to love you back.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The wedding ceremony had gone smoothly, it had been perfect and everything you could have imagined for your sister. That had never worried you much, you knew no one would have dared to ruin the ceremony. What did, however, worry you was the reception. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for some idiot drunken relative to cause a scene as they often did. And as you downed your fifth drink you began to think that the idiot might be you. 

“I've been looking everywhere for you,” Logan says, placing a hand on the small of your back. His sudden appearance snapping you out of your thoughts as he leaned against the section of the bar beside you. 

“Been here since the party started.”

“Hm, how much have you had to drink?” he asks, a concerned look etched onto his perfect face… perfectly kissable face. 

“Mm, not much. I could use a few more drinks” your words slurred and do little to convince Logan that you're not beyond your limit. 

“Let's just get some water in your system, yeah?”

“Nooooo,” you whine like a petulant child. 

He moves his hand that was resting on your back down to your hip, gently guiding you towards your assigned table.  You protest and grumble the whole way there, secretly loving the way his hand feels against your hip– so strong and warm. Logan sits you down in one of the empty chairs, giving the other people at the table a weak smile. 

“Drink up,” he says, gently placing a glass of water in your hand. 

“I don’t wanna,” you whine, dropping your head to rest against the table.

“I’m not giving you a choice.”

“You should like my mom,” You can feel his eyes on you, and you can almost imagine the small smile on his face. 

“Come on sweetheart, you gotta drink some water,” he says, voice softening, nudging your foot with his own. 

“Don’t call me that,” you lift your head off the table to look at him, throat tightening at the term of endearment. The whole place was spinning, your vision blurring a bit, the words in your mind jumbling together, “Don’t– don’t call me that,’ you repeat. 

“Why not? You’ve never minded the nickname.”

“‘Cause I’ll get used to it and I can’t get used to it.”

Logan started at you, confusion etching his face, and god if it didn't take every last bit of restraint in you to not lean over and kiss him. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked in a whispered tone. 

“I– I love you,” you drunkenly confess, eyes blown out wide– you were sure you looked insane. 

“You’re drunk.”

"I love you and you don't love me–" you start, Logan’s hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Stop it. You can’t be saying things that you’ll regret in the morning.”

"You didn't deny not loving me," you say, voice dripping with embarrassment, tears beginning to sting at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you”

"God, I feel like such a fucking idiot– just leave me the fuck alone," you drop your head back down, choking on your words, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. 

He hesitates for a moment as if debating what to do, he lets out a sigh, shoulders dropping, “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You sat at the back of the property, swinging on one of two swings overlooking the open meadow. The past few days replaying in your mind: the fight with Logan, the rehearsal dinner, and the actual wedding. The wedding… everything had come undone, there was no more hiding your feelings or attempting to disguise them as a friendship. 

“I was looking for you,” Logan said, sitting on the swing beside you, watching you closely. 

“Look, I’m sorry about last night,” you whispered, your gaze set on the scenery in front of you in an attempt to avoid looking at him. He let out a sigh attempting to find the right words, worried he’d ruin everything.

“You remember what happened?”

“No, but apparently Jade found me crying and I confessed everything.” It had been embarrassing, having to admit to your sister that everything had been a lie and that you had an unrequited love for your best friend. She, being the greatest sister of all time, calmed you down and comforted you despite having made a fool of yourself at her wedding reception. “I’m not upset that you don’t love me like that. I totally understand and hope we can still be friends.” It wasn’t an exact lie, you did want to be friends, even if it would pain you– but you’d eventually get over him, right?

“No.”

“No? As in we can’t be friends? Because that's fine too, I understand that I made things awkward,” you rambled, just wanting this whole to be over with, nervously picking at the lint of your old sweater that you now realized had once belonged to Logan. 

“God, you really are an idiot.”

Your head snapped to look at him, confusion written all over your face, your mind reeled at his comment. Your mouth opened slightly in preparation to respond, but you were unable to find the words. What did he even mean by that? 

“I love you too, dumbass, so damn much,” he let out a small nervous chuckle, smiling at you, reaching to grab your hand.

“You do?”

“Yes, I can’t imagine a life where I see you with someone else and I feel comfortable with that.” You searched his face for any hint of insincerity, any hint that this may be some sort of cruel joke. But you knew Logan, and you knew that he would never do something so twisted. “I want to kiss you; can I kiss you?” he asked softly, hesitantly reaching out to cup your cheek.

You nod, closing your eyes and leaning into him, letting out a shaky breath as your lips meet. Suddenly you were unusually aware of the clamminess of your hands and the pounding of your heart. His lips were warm, a deep contrast to the cold morning air that had been biting at you earlier. Logan's hand moved to tangle itself into your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if he was scared you'd disappear– as if you were part of a dream and he'd wake up any moment. You suppose that's why the kiss had suddenly felt rough and sloppy as he ran his tongue against your lower lip. 

He pulled away, resting his forehead against your own, smiling at you, “So you’ll let me take you out on a real date?”

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: This is the longest fic I've every written and I'm afraid it's not that good. I literally started this in, I want to say, January but honestly I have no clue. I'm just happy its done and I have the inspiration to write shitty stuff again.

[bruhnze]

Actual goals AF

This fic is brought to you by the inspiration I got watching the Chelsea – Crystal Palace game. Lucy’s goal truly moved me. Or maybe I was just in a little ✨mood✨ to write some smut, who knows.

warnings: smuttttttttt, also some fluff.

summary: post match facetime

words: about 2.4k

‘’Babyyyyyy.’’ Lucy shook her shoes off as she bursted in to her apartment, Ona on FaceTime, she had specifically waited to call her until she’d have some privacy. But in the elevator up to her apartment she couldn’t hold her excitement anymore.

‘’Luce.’’ Ona giggled, seeing the chin of her lover. ‘’beautiful goal, very cool, very casual.’’

‘’Mhm.’’ Lucy smirked, finally looking in to the camera as she had shedded her coat off somewhere in the hallway too. ‘’That’s actually why I called you baby.’’

‘’Is that so.’’ Ona said, chuckling, rolling her eyes. She knew all too well what their traditions where regarding goals, assists, sometimes tackles. Lucy playing good meant, Lucy feeling good, Lucy feeling good meant Lucy getting in a certain mood. She had never complained about it ever, oh no, fucking with a post-match euphoric horny Lucy was one of the best things this earth had to offer and it was all for her. She loved it.

‘’Did you watch the game.’’ Lucy asked excitedly, wondering off to her bedroom.

‘’Mhm, ofcourse.’’ Ona shook her head, ‘’I just told you your goal was a very good goal.’’

‘’Do you remember that match we both scored?’’ Lucy trailed off, ‘’That was-

-yes Luce.’’ Ona interrupted her girlfriend, ‘’I remember perfectly, I’d say our best performance yet.’’

Lucy narrowed her eyes, the game had been nothing special, a bad game maybe even, there had been six goals made that match.

‘’No, I’m not talking about football performance.’’ Ona rolled her eyes. ‘’And don’t act so surprised, you started this call and your motives are very clear.’’ She said sternly as Lucy dropped herself on her bed.

‘’Motives?’’ Lucy smirked, ‘’I can’t call my girlfriend after I’ve scored.’’

‘’You would’ve called me straight away in the car.’’

‘’Maybe I wanted to listen some music, maybe I didn’t have my phone connected to the car and I didn’t want to text and drive.’’

‘’Maybe you waited until you were home so you could have phone sex.’’

Lucy’s eyes widened at Ona’s bluntness, ‘’I-.’’

‘’Ohhh, sorry I totally misinterpreted.’’ Ona said cheekily, changing from sitting against the headboard to laying on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air as she bit her lip looking at Lucy on her screen. ‘’Tell me about the game then.’’

‘’Phone sex.’’ Lucy repeated, seemingly the only words she had picked up. ‘’Well if you want that.’’

Ona rolled her eyes, ‘’don’t turn this all on me now.’’

‘’You’re right,’’ Lucy chuckled and sat up straighter, ‘’I wish we were in the same room right now so fucking bad.’’

‘’Oh yeah?’’

‘’Mhm,’’ Lucy groaned from the thought alone, she had some very vivid memories coming to the front of her brain all of a sudden, she shifted and started kicking her trousers down, ‘’but since I’m not there,’’ she shifted getting the pants past her ankles, ‘’you can maybe get some stuff out.’’ She boldly suggested.

‘’Stuff?’’ Ona chuckled, she had always found Lucy’s prudeness funny, for someone who did so many unholy things she had suspiciously much problems with calling things by their name. She herself was very openminded, very comfortable around the topic. Sometimes she even thought talking about sex was the most important part about sleeping with someone.

‘’Uh yeah.’’ Lucy scratched her neck, ‘’get the, uh.’’ Her cheeks flushed, she cleared her throat, ‘’get some toys, uhm.’’

Ona looked back at Lucy with an unfazed smile, ‘’which ones, love?’’ she said with a little smirk.

‘’The one I bought you most recently,’’ Lucy started, a little more certain, already getting wet about the thrill of seeing Ona ride the thick silicone dildo, possibly sooner rather then later. ‘’And a vibe.’’ She added after some quick thought.

Ona chuckled, ‘’mkay.’’ She shuffled and Lucy saw nothing more then a little forehead, a little ceiling, a little shoulder as Ona rummaged through the drawer.

‘’Okay lay them on the bed, and now first undress.’’ Lucy said, her eyes fixed on her iPhone, ‘’put the phone up on the nightstand, show me baby.’’

Ona giggled, ‘’guess you deserve it after that performance, hm?’’

‘’Mhmmm, a performance for a performance.’’ Ona said as she propped her phone up against a stack of books she had yet to read.

‘’You’re so sexy, I miss you so much.’’ Lucy said as she watched Ona undress.

She watched intently as Ona sensually undid herself from her clothes. It didn’t take long until she was just in her panties as she hadn’t been wearing much.

Lucy’s breath hitched at the sight of Ona standing there, clad only in her panties, her skin glowing under the soft light of her bedroom. Ona smiled knowingly, that playful smirk Lucy loved so much.

“You like what you see, don’t you?” Ona teased, running a finger along the waistband of her panties.

Lucy swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "You know I do, baby. Now, why don’t you get rid of the rest? Slowly."

Ona bit her lip, loving the control she held over her even through the screen. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her hips, drawing the moment out, knowing exactly how to keep Lucy hanging on every movement.

Lucy’s hand drifted down between her own thighs, her fingers brushing over the wetness that had been building since they started talking. “Fuck, Ona, you’re so hot. I need you so bad. I need you right now.”

Ona chuckled softly, her hands roaming over her own body, teasing herself with light touches, grazing her fingertips over her stomach and up to her breasts. She lingered there, squeezing softly, knowing how much Lucy loved watching her play with herself.

Her body was already starting to respond, her skin warming under her own touch. Her fingers drifted lower, brushing the inside of her thighs, making her hips shift. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Lucy groaned in frustration, her eyes locked on the screen, watching as Ona’s hand slowly crept closer to where she wanted to be, to where she wanted to have her mouth, her fingers, her strap. Ona’s fingers slipped between her legs, grazing over her folds as she bit her lip, letting out a small sigh that made Lucy’s pulse race. Lucy could see the glistening wetness on her fingertips, the subtle shiver that ran through Ona’s body at her own touch, and it drove her crazy.

Lucy’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths, her fingers already wet from her own arousal. “So fucking hot,” she muttered, eyes glued to the screen. “Now grab the vibe.”

Ona’s lips parted slightly, excitement flashing across her face as she reached for the small vibrator, holding it up for Lucy to see. She pressed it against her inner thigh first, letting the vibrations tease her as she rolled her hips forward. Lucy’s breath hitched, watching intently as Ona played with herself, her body responding to the vibrations before she even touched her clit.

"Fuck, Ona, you’re driving me insane," Lucy groaned, her own body arching slightly in response to the sight. "Now... put it where I know you need it."

Ona bit her lip, slowly moving the vibrator between her legs, letting it hover just above her clit, teasing herself, and Lucy, for a few more moments. Then, with a shaky breath, she pressed it against her clit, her hips jerking as the pleasure shot through her. A soft moan escaped her lips as her eyes fluttered shut, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“Ona…” Lucy’s voice was strained, desperate, her self-control slipping. She bit her lip, trying to regain some composure as her own hand mimicked the motions on her own body. Fuck a build-up she thought. “Pick up the dildo,” she instructed, her voice dropping low and husky. “I want you to use it, ride it for me.”

Ona looked at her phone a little desperate, she was just getting started.

‘’You look so pretty riding it.’’ Lucy cooed, ‘’Please baby, show me how pretty you are.’’

She put the vibrator off and tossed it further onto the bed. She reached over, grabbing the other toy and positioned herself at the edge of the bed, making sure Lucy had the perfect view by turning her phone a little bit. “Like this?” she asked, her voice dripping with sweetness, teasing as she climbed over the silicone length, lowering herself slowly until the tip barely touched her entrance.

Lucy’s fingers moved faster against herself as she watched, her heart racing. “Fuck, yes. Just like that. I want to see you take it all.”

Ona didn’t need to be told twice. She slowly sank down onto the dildo, her head falling back with a soft moan as she felt it stretch her. Lucy’s breath hitched, her eyes glued to the screen as Ona began to move, rolling her hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Lucy groaned, her body trembling with need. She could feel herself getting closer, the sight of Ona riding the toy pushing her over the edge. “Touch yourself for me, baby. I want to see you cum.”

Ona’s hand slid between her legs again, finding her clit as she rode the toy, her hips moving in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation of the dildo filling her deeply, combined with the teasing circles on her sensitive clit, made her gasp, her moans filling the room as she followed Lucy’s command. The pleasure built quickly, her body tingling with the intensity of it, her legs shaking slightly as she rocked against the toy.

Lucy’s eyes were half-lidded, her own pleasure nearing its peak. “That’s it, Ona. Let me hear you, baby.”

Ona’s moans grew louder, her body shaking as she rode the toy harder, her fingers working her clit in fast circles. “L-Lucy,” she panted, her voice breaking.

Ona’s breath was ragged, her body teetering on the edge. “L-Lucy... it feels so good,” she whimpered, her voice breaking with the intensity of it. Her fingers moved faster against her clit as she quickened her pace, the toy filling her deeply with each roll of her hips. “I’m so close...”

Lucy’s breath came in short gasps as her own climax built to a crescendo. “Cum with me, Ona,” she whispered, her fingers moving faster. “Cum f-for me.”

That was all it took. Ona’s body tensed, her back arching as the orgasm crashed over her, her moans spilling out freely. The sight of Ona coming undone was too much for Lucy, she followed her over the edge, her own body shaking as waves of pleasure pulsed through her.

For a moment, neither of them could speak, the only sound filling the air was their heavy breathing. Ona slumped forward, resting on her arms as she caught her breath, a satisfied smile on her face.

As the waves of pleasure finally subsided, both Lucy and Ona remained in a blissful, breathless haze. Ona collapsed back onto her bed, her body still tingling, while Lucy lay sprawled out on her own, her heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

“Baby,” Ona murmured, still catching her breath, her voice gentle and affectionate. “You okay?”

Lucy, flushed and exhausted, managed a soft chuckle. “Hmm, better than okay,” she replied, her voice raspy from the intensity of it all. “You… you’re incredible, Ona.”

Ona smiled softly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on her stomach as she basked in the afterglow. “You too, Luce. I wish I could hold you right now.”

“God, me too,” Lucy sighed, the reality of the distance hitting her again now that the euphoria had passed. She propped herself up on her elbow, looking at Ona’s face on the screen. “Soon though, yeah? We’ll be together soon.”

Ona nodded, her eyes softening. “Mhm,” she agreed, with a short hum. She reached for her phone, settling into a more comfortable position, her head resting on her pillow. “But for now, let’s just stay like this. I want you here with me… even if it’s through the phone.”

“Yeah,” Lucy agreed, her voice quieter now, as if the vulnerability of the moment had calmed her completely. She mirrored Ona’s movement, laying back on her own pillow, holding her phone close to her face. “Me too.”

They lay there in comfortable silence for a few moments, just the sounds of their soft breathing filling the space between them. There was no need for words, just the quiet intimacy of being connected, of feeling each other's presence even across the distance.

“Hey,” Lucy whispered after a while, her voice thick with sleepiness. “Did I tell you I love you today?”

Ona giggled softly, her eyes closing as the warmth of Lucy’s voice lulled her. “You might’ve, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Ona,” Lucy said, her voice full of sincerity, a smile tugging at her lips despite her tiredness. ''I love you so, so much.''

“I love you too, Lucy,” Ona whispered back.

They continued to talk in soft murmurs, sharing gentle words of affection and reassurances of their love, the exhaustion from their long day and intense moment slowly catching up to them.

Lucy’s voice became softer and slower with each word, and soon enough, Ona could hear the steady rhythm of her breathing, knowing Lucy had finally drifted off to sleep. A smile spread across Ona’s face as she watched her lover sleep through the screen, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace.

“Goodnight, my love,” she whispered, not expecting a response. She cuddled up to her own pillow, her phone still resting besides her.

Within moments, she also fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, the two of them connected by the soft glow of their phones.

Their hearts were fully intertwined even if they were miles apart.

//

yupp

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 4 : Flashbacks and Fear

Continuation the The Prolouge, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 and Chapter 3.

Just his luck...

This stupid Fenton Luck.

He's lost in Gotham and Dante is still at work, He forgot where he was for a moment and remembers 'oh he's not in amity' too late and now he's wandering the streets.

"Fuck.... Oh Ancients... Where do I go.... Oh no.. Dan will be so worried." Danny combs his hair back with his hands and letting it ruffle back down again.

Stress. That's what he's feeling right now, confusion too maybe. He wanders the streets in search of his way back hoping the "Fenton Luck" would be on his side and guide him back home.

"Please, please plea-" He stops talking as he hears a commotion, possibly a gang fight he thinks and he decides to hide within the darkness of the alleys in fear of getting in the crossfire.

He doesn't like to hear the fighting... Not anymore much so. He covers his ears as he curled up in the corner of the alleys trembling with his hood up. He tries to muffle the fighting noises coming through his ears by lulling a lullaby Jazz always sang to him.

"🎶p...pass the fourth turn.... By... The barn ... Where Mrs. Full man.. lived until she passed on... There is a cottage.. by the lake..side... Where fairies.... Come out at night.... Hic- .... There's a music.... Box in the bedroom... Hic.... It's playing songs... From 1922.... And if you listen... Hic—🎶" He stops singing as tears rolled down his cheeks, the memories were getting to him. Happy memories when she was alive.

He curls up even further and sobbed hoping his sobs would muffle the Noises. Until the noises finished, but Danny still couldn't stop crying in fear and the memories flooding in on his mind. Replaying over and over again.

The warm smile she gives him, the reassurance that he's no less than human despite having becoming a Halfa. The Family he misses, he misses her so much. He wishes she was still there to comfort him with her lullabies, her gentle touch, her soft spoken voice.

"I'm scared Jazz..." He mutters sobbing.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Damian perked up, they had just finished breaking up a gang fight but Damian couldn't help but hear... Subtle sobs of a child...

Damian isn't always one to care much but he couldn't help himself this time.

"Is everything alright Robin?" The Big B asks with a monotonous tone.

"Not sure B, I hear a child sobbing their eyes out...." Damian answers and starts to walk trying to track the sobs. It made his heart ache- Fuck why is he acting like his father and that so called Genetic "Adoption Tendencies". He refuses to be one of his brothers with that Genetic. Maybe even Grayson is a more reasonable option for that Genetic.

Damian saw a glimpse of the sobbing child in the alley. He tries to mimic his father and try not to be intimidating.

"Hey there... Kid.." Damian spoke out softly with the gentlest smile he could muster out of his face. The kid looked up and it made Damian Flinch.

His eyes, they're too... Reminiscent of the Lazarus Waters.... Did someone dunk this kid there too? What the fuck happened to him? Who is he?, many questions ran through Robin's Mind but he shakes it off to check up on the kid.

"Are you alright... Do you need hel—" Damian was cut off by the kid suddenly hugging him tightly.

"Please... Bring me back home... Hic... I want to go home..." The kid sobbed, almost pleading to go back home.

Why is Damian's Heart Aching?. Why is it making him want to cry too... It was odd, but Damian just hugs the kid back and carries him— Dear God he's so light weight. It's like lifting a feather, very concerning... His body temperature was also ice cold. That's even more concerning.

"Ofcourse... I'll take you home... Do you uhm- have any family?" Robin asks worryingly.

"Mhm.... My big brother..." The kid mutters softly.

"And where is he?" Robin asks again and was told that he works at a local new Cafe near Gotham U.

Robin just nods and looks at Batman with a stern yet softer look.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Bruce was confused, Damian was being.... Soft-spoken, really. A rare sight. Damian consoling a crying child.

A child with Black hair blue eyes and .. a lot of scars, including a very concerning Lichtenberg Scars that traces along the child's eye to his skin and possibly down to his chest or back.

"B, the police can handle the rest of them, I'll take this child to the Cafe near Gotham U." Robin states blantantly.

"...hnn... I'm coming with you." Bruce said and Robin just sighed and nodded.

Who's child is this...? How did he get here? How did he make Damian so soft-spoken? Is he a meta? Is one of the criminals they subdued his parents or-... Bruce tried to keep his thoughts calm, it's just a child after all.

Bruce gave the kid a Candy, Odd that he had one in his pocket but it still calmed the kid nontheless

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

They eventually reached the Cafe and Saw a Panicking Man yelling out the name "Danny" as he wanders around concerningly.

"Dan!" The kid yelled out, still in Robin's arms.

"OH ANCIENTS! DANNY!" Dante was very worried, tears were rolling down his cheeks and he was already About to call Vlad.

Robin sets Danny Down and Danny ran to Dan and Jumped at him. Dante hugged Danny tightly, "Fuck... Where did you go... You little twerp.... You shouldn't run away like that... Or even wander off. Goddamit.." Dante sighed in relief as they pressed foreheads with each other .

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" Danny mutters under soft sobs.

"It's okay kid... It's okay.." Dante reassures him as he looked at Robin with soft gentle teary eyes. "Thank you..." Dante utters with his voice almost breaking.

"C'mon Danny.. say thank you to the heroes." Dante tries to distract Danny through telling him to say thank you and Danny tilts his head towards Robin and Batman.

"Thank you..." He smiles with teary reddish eyes that made Damian's Heart Ache but also throb with happiness.

Robin smiles softly. "It's what...we do..." He says with a gentle soft-spoken tone. Batman just Grunts approvingly and Danny Giggled.

"Thank you. Thank you again. I wish you all the best.." Dante mutters as he kisses Danny's Hair and Bows at the two heroes before walking off.

Danny waves goodbye at Robin and Batman and Robin couldn't help but wave back, he slowly stares at his hand that was waving goodbye and presses it to his chest.

"... Such an... Odd feeling..." Robin utters with a smile still plastered on his face as he noticed the kid had left a sticker on his glove. A star sticker infact.

He plans to keep that sticker on the glove now. Never letting it be taken off, because it made him smile.

Really.

Odd... So odd.

As promised @craftyexpertchild and @darkenedenchantress tags for y'all

I wrote this in a 40-30 minutes timeframe

Older brother Dan is my type of Man and Cunt™

[lady-griffin]

Did Ekko Make Jinx’s Prosthetic Finger?

I’m curious what other people think, but I don’t think Jinx made her prosthetic finger. The only thing about it that screams JINX to me is the painted smiley face. That’s it.

It’s far too practical and simple of a design to be made by Jinx; seriously, if you remove the smiley face, you wouldn’t be able to tell this was her finger.

By comparison - Fishbones was a complete and total surprise to me when I first watched Arcane and yet I didn't question his existence for a single second; because of course Jinx made a giant shark bazooka. That makes perfect sense given everything we know about her.

With this finger though, I’m like... maybe she made it under these specific circumstances, but even then, I doubt it, because she’s so committed to her aesthetic.

She consistently goes all out, even when there's no reason to.

She individually painted each of her moth bombs, you know the things designed for the sole purpose of exploding. And yet, I'm supposed to believe she made her own finger and only drew a smiley face on it?! Really?!

Are we sure we’re talking about Jinx?

Jinx’s two guns from S1 are her most practical and aesthetically simple designs and even they have more flourish, I mean one’s pink for fuck’s sake.

So, if Jinx didn’t make her own finger, then who did?

Ekko!!

He's the only one who makes sense to me.

Now maybe this is just my delusional Timebomb wishing heart, it's certainly a possibility, but looking over the Firelights’ hoverboards, accessories, and home, Jinx’s prosthetic finger doesn’t look out of place.

There’s no perfect match to Jinx's finger; but overall, the design itself, plus the color and the specific way the metal looks worn and is clearly repurposed – looks very Ekko/Firelights to me.

To be clear, beaten up or repurposed anything (especially metal) is not an Ekko only thing, not by a long shot, as it’s found throughout Zaun.

It is Zaun.

Still, the way Ekko and Jinx’s aesthetics come through their designs and inventions, usually makes them very identifiable and this finger looks far more like Ekko, than it does Jinx. Even the color says Ekko to me.

Neither one exclusively uses a single color/type of metal, but Jinx tends to favor metals that are grey, while Ekko favors more bronze or coppery colored metals - like Jinx's finger.

The color is by no means a smoking gun, it’s just this bit of extra oddness.

It already felt super odd the design is so simple and practical but on top of that - she also didn't opt for her usual grey metals? Even in the smallest of details, this finger doesn’t feel like Jinx; and Arcane is so specific and detail oriented with its designs.

Now, obviously Ekko is not the only other inventor in Zaun, but I can't see Jinx using something just anyone made, let alone a new body part. Maybe she would for practicality’s sake, but as soon as she could, she would either customize it to her own aesthetic or just make her own.

She's so specific and intentional with her everything, so why would she make an exception for her new finger; something that's going to be attached to her body and used by her for a decently long time.

The fact this design seems to be Jinx's permanent new finger makes me assume whoever made it, did a good enough job that it met Jinx’s standards and they're important enough to her she was content to just draw a cute little smiley face on it and nothing more.

And right now, I only see Ekko being that person.

Also, I just think it would be really cute and sweet. Seriously, think about it –

Jinx: Look at what my boyfriend made me! *Gives you the middle finger*

[annwrites]

— jacaerys velaryon quotes ⊹⊱♛⊰⊹ | read

❝You there—girl—do you know how incredibly rude it is for you not to stand and curtsy when in the presence of royalty?❞

❝You are to look at me while we're speaking. Do you understand?❞

❝From now on, you will wear more suitable clothing when outside your private chambers—which means conservative in nature; not whatever men found desirable upon the Street of Silk. You are a representative of our house now. A dragonrider. A soldier to our cause. You will look the part.❞

❝You will watch your tongue, you insolent little wench.❞

❝You are being too gentle with her—too patient—she requires a firmer hand, elsewise she will never properly learn.❞

❝Just as soon as you can give such commands in High Valyrian, I shall consider. Now, do as you are told.❞

❝Is this what it's going to take, then?❞ (...) ❝Me manipulating you like a ventriloquist does its doll to get you to do what I need you to?❞

❝Rȳbās,❞ he then says with a smug look. ❝It means obey.❞

❝You've silver hair, purple eyes, pale skin. Men would pay handsomely to pretend at having a Targaryen princess or lady for an hour or two, would they not?❞

❝Everything to do with you concerns me!❞

❝I do not answer to you, but you will to me: your superior. Now.❞

❝You will address me properly, and you will hold your tongue. You speak only when spoken to, is that understood?❞

❝If you ever raise a hand to me again,❞ (...) ❝I will take it. What you just did is treason.❞

❝Go on, then. Try me. See how far I let you get after such a stunt. You think me weak? Easy to strong-arm?❞

❝I doubt it. You've no idea who you're testing. I am your future king,❞ he spits. ❝And you will obey me, you little bitch.❞

❝You think your comely looks make you special? Think they're all you need, so as to easily fool and take advantage of men? To get your way?❞

❝There is a screen, and I hardly intend to look. Now, do as your prince commands.❞

❝I won't allow any harm to befall you, you have my word, Y/N! As long as you are with me, you are safe!❞

❝Do you think she enjoys being trapped in here all hours of the day? Do you know how long it's been since someone has ridden her? Let her show you the skies. Allow her that privilege.❞

❝I want us to experience this together.❞

❝It is possible,❞ (...) ❝To change your mind about that which you think you want. If you only consider other options.❞

❝Gods, you're fucking impossible, aren't you?❞

❝Teach me how to please you. Allow me to show you how truly sorry I am in this...other way.❞

❝I have taught you much these last few days. It is time, mayhaps, you return the favor.❞

❝Allow me to please you.❞

❝You have me on my knees. Begging you to allow me to pleasure you. You need more reassurance that you have me at your mercy now?❞

❝I would use my mouth, Y/N, if it please you.❞

❝I know what I want. And I know that it is you. Here. Now. Will you not allow me this most singular indulgence?❞

❝May I untie my breeches, My Lady?❞

❝Gods,❞ he mutters against your mound. ❝You're so beautiful. Mm, and delicious.❞

❝I did not need even touch myself to finish at your hand.❞

❝In truth, I would very much like…❞ (...) ❝For us to begin sharing all our meals together. To walk together, when you choose to on the beach. To ride together.❞

❝But I do not burn for her. Not as I do you. You fill my every waking fucking thought now. All I wish is to be near to you. To touch you. To hear your voice.❞

❝Was it fair to her when I had my face shoved between your thighs as you finished upon my tongue?❞

❝I don’t want to lose you,❞ he whispers. ❝When I’ve only just found you. When I am with you, I don’t feel so afraid anymore. Please…please don’t take yourself from me. Please.❞

❝We’ve fondness, but a fire does not rage within me when I’m near her as it does for you. A fire I am desperate to keep fanning the flames of. Because if it were to burn out—now—I know not what I would do.❞

❝When I am with you, I feel fearless. Not a coddled princeling. Not some royal betrothed where everything must be prim and proper. I feel… I feel alive. I have the attentions of a woman grown, and I would be remiss to shirk them out of the sake of propriety.❞

❝It is why I ask you—if you can find it within yourself to consent—to let me have you, at least in private. Let us live while there is still time for it.❞

❝I mean for us to share more than just meals and walks together, you know?❞ (...) ❝Such as my bed, and yours. Perhaps baths. The rug before my hearth. The dining table chairs. The windowsill. My settee…❞

❝Only for you, my little dragonseed,❞ he replies, kissing you tenderly. ❝You see: I can be quite generous.❞

❝I deign we shall need moontea in large supply.❞

❝If you wish to quiet my tongue, you will need to find other uses for it, then, my sweet.❞

❝I want you…to be the first.❞

❝I want for you to… Tell me what to do. Use me for your pleasure. Please.❞

❝Command me.❞

❝Gods, I want to touch you.❞

❝Yes, mistress.❞

❝Let me instead. Please, I beg of you. Let me tend to your needs.❞

❝Do I have your permission?❞

❝Thank you, Y/N. For making my first…❞ He trails off for a moment. ❝For being my first, and for making it perfect.❞

[hotvintagepoll]

Marjorie Main (The Women, Summer Stock)—a world weary dame who wore her midwestern accent on her sleeve. marjorie main kills it as a reno ranch owner in "the women" (1939) and as warm mother hens <3 she was no shabby actor either! this scene with her and humphrey bogart fucking haunts me [link]

Zero Mostel (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, The Producers)—Archetypal. Comedian of all time. The worst combover in cinematic history, probably. Could make more laughter with one muscle in a singular eyebrow than 98% of all men across the face of the earth. Hardcore Committer to the Bit. Man of all time, and also told HUAC directly where they could shove it, which is a primally appealing and scrungly quality.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Marjorie Main:

Zero Mostel:

"The chase scene in FORUM is just. it's fucking iconic. It's one of the funniest pieces of cinema I've ever seen in any context, everything about it is genius, and the heart and soul of it is Zero Mostel as Pseudolus. Casting him alongside a young Michael Crawford (of later Phantom of the Opera fame) really highlights the differences between the young romantic lead and the older, sensible, and yet entirely scrungly middle aged man (Mostel was 55 at the time) somehow manages to come off as even more desirable. He has no shit together, not very good plans, is panicked for most of the story, and the charisma of a champ. His flailing, helpless attempts at fighting the gladiator is so... he's so scrungly. "

"He's not fancy, he's not pretty, he's not good at much of anything, but he is Genius despite that."

"There is a magic to Zero Mostel that he manages to bring to roles where he is simultaneously the worst person ever, and also, compelling in every possible way. He had his biggest period of fame in middle age after he got taken off the Hollywood blacklist, and being a fat middle aged man with thinning hair is what gives every single bit of his characters power. As the original Max Bialystock he would eat the entirety of The Producers except that Gene Wilder as Leo Bloom is a genius casting decision, as Mostel's intensity against Wilder's deep discomfort ends up being the right chemistry. In many ways he reminds me of Buster Keaton, the pinnacle of hot scrungly little guy—a unique and expressive face, an instinctive understanding of comedy, active at the same time, and also they were both in FORUM together. Mostel came from an Orthodox Jewish family, was a trained painter with a degree in art, spoke four languages, and when he was blacklisted during the Red Scare and brought before the HUAC, he didn't just refuse to name names, he made fun of the senators. He was disabled after an accident, and still did dancing in movies and things like stunts in FORUM. He did a ton of work on Broadway too, including originating Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, making the musical more Jewish as he did so. Frankly, I don't think any of those roles (or the eventual later film versions of Fiddler/musical version of the Producers) would work with anyone else. It had to be a fat balding middle aged leftist Jew from Brooklyn. The scrungly is essential.

"the scrungle factor of max in every version of the producers is through the roof but nathan lane does it as suave scrungle. zero mostel does not do suave scrungle. he does old jewish man getting into an argument with the rabbi at the full synagogue passover seder about how much wine has to be in the glass for it to count as "one cup" scrungle; he does old jewish man whose entire fridge is full of pickled herring scrungle. it's offputting in all the ways that make it genius."

[seungfl0wer]

𝑨𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔

Chapter 1 -> Title: Flower Girl

Chapter Warning: Nothing really? Mentions of stomach pain? Sorry for any mistakes!

Series Master List

A/N: It’s finally here 😭 please this is a lot of backstory and stuff so I hope you guys enjoy it! I’m honestly nervous posting it, like super nervous.

-🐾

You sighed loudly as you got out of bed, stretching moving to crack your back. “Ugh that was a rough night” you grumbled walking toward your door. As you walked down the stairs you were greeted by your mom who had just baked some cookies. “Hey sleepy head you were supposed to be up already, your dad needs help down at the shop” she said giving you a little packed lunch. “Do I get a cookie with my lunch?” You smiled as you peered over her shoulder to grab one. “Nuh uh these are for my meeting today” she said swatting your hand away.

You whined making her roll her eyes “there’s one in your bag, now go. You’re already late” she said poking your side. You smiled putting your shoes on quickly slipping out the door waving bye to her.

As you reached your dad’s store you could see the few cars already parked outside. Walking in you were greeted by smiling regulars. Your mother and father ran a business together one side was hers where she made baked goods and coffee. The other side was his where he sold gardening supplies and plants. He was known as a handy man around the town. He helped fix a lot of things for people, like pipes, floors, roofs you name it. You helped in both aspects however you enjoyed helping your dad with landscaping the most. Planting beautiful floral arrangements and crops.

As you sat your stuff down you heard your dad grumble in the back. Following the noise you saw him struggling to grab something from a shelf. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit making him turn his head. “Bout time you get outta bed” he teased. “Hey hey you keep it up and I’m not gonna help you get that” you teased back. Your parents were very kind people, they always did what was best for you. Always tried to do right by you and make sure you were always taken care of.

“Are you gonna help or just hold up the wall?” He joked. You rolled your eyes before stretching to grab the bag, a sharp pain going through your stomach. You winced almost dropping the heavy dirt bag on yourself. “Ah- y/n be careful” he said grabbing it from you. You grabbed your side rubbing it, the pain was gone already. You thought it was just from the weight of the bag so you continued your day not thinking much of it. As you were picking up some trash from the side you felt the sharp pain again. This time it didn’t stop right away, the pain went straight through your stomach.

You groaned out sitting a bit down as you tried to ease the pain. However it only started to grow more, you didn’t know what to do so you yelled for your dad. You could feel tears pricking as the pain intensified. It felt like someone took a knife and just slid it through your ribs. When your dad got to you he stopped dead in his tracks. A smell you hadn’t noticed radiating off of you. He quickly picked you up helping you into the shop. He took you into the back room shutting and locking the door quickly.

“Y/n didn’t you take your medicine today?” He asked his eyes looking over you worryingly. You nod “I- I did- I haven’t missed a day” you stammered out “ugh why’s it hurt so much” you said voice breaking. His eyes widened looking almost panicked “I need to make a call. Do. NOT. Leave this room. Got it?” He said sternly. You nod again before he left he kissed the top of your head “don’t worry ok?” He said before ruffling your hair a bit. He left the room leaving you there hunched over in pain.

A few minutes had gone by before you heard your dad’s voice “Are you fucking kidding me? How’s that even possible?” He said. His voice full of anger and worry you wondered what and who he was talking to. You heard the door open seeing him peer in, he scrunched his nose a bit looking at you.

“Y/n, sweetheart.. we have.. we have a problem” he said pulling up a seat to sit beside you. “The pills that help suppress your scent and heat are.. well since you’re getting older they’re kind of.. not working anymore especially since you’ve been taking them for so long. He said his voice almost shaky like he was scared. Ever since they found out you were an omega they had you put on these pills that suppressed it. Especially your smell and heat. They did this for your own safety and happiness. They wanted you to grow up free of the label. Free of others trying to get to you simply for what you were.

They knew how packs were, how they treated omegas. Most packs anymore couldn’t get ahold of a true omega a lot of them hiding or settling down with a loner. They were also very worried about how you fell into an almost alpha category as well. A lot of wolfs anymore had “tendencies”. What use to be mating for genes and keeping “pure bloods” has almost all but gone. Now everyone is a bit whatever? Both of your parents are betas however your grandmother and grandfather were an alpha and omega couple.

You turned out to be an omega however you had “alpha tendencies” which was almost unheard of. Even if they found you a good mate that aspect of you could ruin it.

The way your dad looked at you almost like he failed you. “The doctor said it could also be because of the alpha like side you have.” He said. He pulled you close to him holding you into a tight hug “my little girl.. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you from this” he said his words almost choking in his throat. You held onto him the pain still surging through your stomach. “So.. what can we do?” You said softly looking up at him. Those big puppy eyes of yours making his heart ache “I don’t know, but I’ll find a solution” he said rubbing your back.

He closed the shop up early taking you home to get you comfortable. Your mom coming home giving you some extra cookies she had left. The pain was slowly dying down but your scent was strong. Although you had these tendencies you were just an omega. The smell of you radiating through the room like a sick honey smell. Your head was spinning from the whole day. You curled up with your pillows falling asleep quickly.

As morning came you could hear your dad talking again. His phone has been blowing up all morning. The news must have gotten out because you saw a post “well known daughter of (father’s name) has been discovered to be an omega.” A chill went up your spine looking at it seeing the comments.

—🐾—

A rustle coming down the stairs sounding like a stampede. “Chan look!” The bright eyed boy says to the older one. “We’ve talked to her before! And she’s an omega!” The blonde says holding his phone in the other’s face. He snatches the phone looking over the article “it’s the pretty flower girl” he said softly looking at the phone smiling. “Chaaan! You should talk to her dad!” He said eyes sparkling at him. “What makes you think he’s gonna let me have his daughter lix?” He said with a chuckle.

“Come on if anyone will take care of her well it’s us! Where also you know.. the biggest pack here that takes care of everyone” he says rolling his eyes a bit. “You gotta try at least!” He said with a pout. Chan lets out a deep breath “fine, I’ll contact him and see what I can do.”

And he did he rang up your father talking for a bit “I know with the news out you’re gonna be bombarded with other people but let me take her? Let me make her our omega and we’ll treat her like the queen she is” he said over the phone. Your father was thinking a mile a minute “how do I know you’re gonna keep her safe?” He questioned “how do I know you aren’t just gonna hurt her and.. use her?” He continued.

“Sir, I promise I’d never let anything happen to her or do anything to hurt her. I’ve seen her many times in there and even before the news I thought she was just such a beautiful angel” Chan rambled on.

Your dad sighed a bit “come over and we can talk about this?” He said giving Chan the address to your home. After getting off the phone Chan had an audience now. “So?” Felix asked all eyes on Chan. “I’m going to talk to him. We’ll see how it goes” he said grabbing his jacket. “I’ll be back later” he said before leaving.

—🐾—

This brings us to now. A wide known alpha in your town a very wealthy one at that standing downstairs. You peered down when you heard the unfamiliar voice accidentally locking eyes with him. It felt like your heart hitched up into your throat. It was beating so loudly you swore it was shaking the whole house.

“Ah- there’s my sweets” your dad says with a hopeful smile. “Come here?” He asked patting the chair beside him. Your body was almost frozen but somehow you started to move. You smiled politely at the man before sitting down. Your mom came over sitting some cookies down for everyone to snack on.

“So.. let’s get to it hmm?” Your dad says breathing out loudly. “Bangchan here, would like too.. have you as his omega. His mate.” Your father spoke. His words circled in your head you wanted to say something but your eyes were locked on the man infront of you. “What do you think?” Your dad said taking your hand. “Why do you want ME as your mate? Is it souly for what I am?” You spoke bluntly. Chan smiles a bit finding your bluntness a bit funny. “Well not exactly, I’ve always thought you were beautiful when I’d come in the store. However I know your dads kind of in a hard place here with you”

You looked over at your dad and he just nodded a bit “I would have offered him money but I can’t really put a price tag on you.” He said with a smile. Ugh his smile. It had your heart thumping even more. You had to admit, seeing him come in the store you’d definitely developed a crush. He was very handsome, his cute little dimples poking out as he smiled.

“He’s the best option y/n, I’ll at least know you’re safe and can still see you.” He said rubbing your hand. “Have you told him about the uhm problem though?” You asked. Chan tilted his head looking at you both. “Not yet” your dad said looking over at him. He sighed a bit “y/n has alpha tendencies.” He said. “Which basically just means she can get more controlling, more aggressive and her heats can be a bit more intense.” He said studying the man’s face.

“Just sounds like she’s a strong woman, someone who’s not afraid to fight for what she wants. Not afraid to protect her pack” he said with a that big smile. “It doesn’t bother you?” The question slipping past your lips. He chuckles a bit “No? Should it?” His voice sounded almost teasing. You felt a blush creep up as he smiled once again, The sight making him smile even bigger.

“So it’s settled then? You’ll be mine. Ours?” He said looking at you. You tilted your head a bit “ours?” You questioned. He nodded “My boys will love you just as much. They’d be basically your other mates.” He said cocking his head to the said like you. “It’s a new way these packs are running” your dad spoke looking over at him. Chan nodded “yeah, plus they already are excited to see you. I can’t keep you all to myself, you’re to beautiful not to share” he said his cheeks blushing a bit at his words.

“I know it’s a lot but you don’t hav-“ he started before you cut him off. “I want to. I’ll do it. I’ll be your omega. As long as you promise I can come see my family” you said words sounding like a plea. He couldn’t help the big smile that spread across his face. “Of course! I’d never keep you from them! I’m not trapping you with us silly. You’re free to come and go, although I’d feel safe if one of us would join you. I know how others are” he said looking over at your dad who nodded.

“Welp I guess it settled! You’re coming with me” he said eyes smiling at you. “I’ll come back tomorrow for you if that’s ok? I’ll let you guys have time together” he said standing up. Bangchan shook your dad’s hand, giving your mom a hug before looking at you “may I hug you?” The way he asked his voice soft, sweet like sugar. You nod and before you knew it he had his arms around you. He pulled you into a big hug and it just felt- felt so warm? So cozy and loving like this was where you were meant to be.

When he pulled away his cheeks were bright red “I can’t wait for you to meet the rest of the boys. God they’re gonna love you” he said kissing your cheeks almost quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, your dad has my number if you’d like to talk tonight” he said. With another smile and a wave he was gone.

So many thoughts circled your head but you were almost excited for this new chapter in your life. Excited to feel what it felt like to be yourself. Not someone hiding.

—🐾—

As Chan opened the door to his place, he chuckled a bit at the scene in front of him. The boys all sitting in the living room presumably waiting for him. As the door opened their head turned to look at him. “Chan! So so!” Felix said running towards him. He tried to play it like you said no but he couldn’t hide the smile. “You can’t lie old man tell us” he heard a voice coming from the couch. He rolled his eyes “she said yes!” He said a big smile plastered across his voice. “No way!” Felix squealed hugging Chan tightly. “When is she coming? Does she know about us? Do you think she’ll love all of us?” Felix’s questions seemed never ending.

Chan chuckled “tomorrow, yes and of course she will” he said ruffling his hair a bit. The boys talked amongst themselves before one of them spoke “I’ll go to the store tomorrow and get some stuff” he said. “I’ll get stuff to make a good dinner tomorrow” he continued. “You know what she likes?” He asked. “Minho, anything you make I’m sure she’d love” Chan said back to him making the other man smile. “Changbin and I will put her room together, the rest of you need to clean the house.” Chan said looking around.

“Can I make cookies? I know her mom bakes so I’m sure she would like some” Felix said with a smile. Chan nodded “yeah that sounds good!” As the boys talked Chan noticed your father had sent him your phone number. He quickly saved it texting you “hey there beautiful, I just wanted to ask what some of your favorite things are? Like food and stuff? Oh oh what’s your favorite color?” He asked sending the message. You felt your heart do a little pitter patter as you smiled reading his message. You texted back a small list of your favorite foods and snack. Telling him a few colors you liked. You looked around your room realizing most of your stuff was black blue or red. You laughed a bit “majority of my stuffed animals are blue, but the rest of my room is darker colors. I wear a lot of darker colors too” you texted.

“Oh so mysterious🫢” he texted back making you giggle.

“Oh yeah totally, not because black matches everything or anything like that” you teased. You thought to yourself how easy it seemed. How easy it seemed to talk to him, to feel comfortable.

“I hope you sleep well beautiful, everyone is excited to meet you. I’m excited to be able to have you here.” He messaged back.

You could feel your cheeks heat up making you smile like some high school girl texting her crush. “I hope I don’t disappoint” you texted back. You rolled over thinking to yourself. ‘I really hope they all like me.. I hope I’ll live up to their standards’

“Never could beautiful.” He texted. Sending another one right after “oh here!” He sent a picture of all of them. “From left to right it’s Jisung, Minho, Changbin, Seungmin and the three below are Jeongin, Hyunjin and Felix” he texted.

“Where are you?” You said studying the picture.

“Oh I took the photo” he texted back. The boys around his were already cleaning the place up a bit.

“Oh :(“ you replied back you pouted a bit.

He chuckled at your reply sending a selfie of himself. “Sorry love here’s a picture of me, all you had to do was ask” he said making himself chuckle a bit.

Seeing the pet name made your heart pound if your cheeks were warm before they’re on fire now. “You all are so very handsome..” you sent the message as you were about to type back something like ‘to handsome for me’ he replied.

“Handsome men just for their beautiful mate” he texted. He was all blushy now telling the boys how you think they’re handsome. The roars and hoots that came from them made him laugh. Your heart thudded again you wanted to squeal at his words before you could text back he was texting you again. “Get some sleep my love, we’ll see you in the morning!” He texted.

You sighed a bit knowing you better cause it was gonna be a long day tomorrow. Getting comfy you texted back one more time “fine fine, good night. I will see you.. and everyone tomorrow. Hope you all sleep well. Good night handsome.. goodnight other handsomes” you giggled a bit yawning before curling up into your bed.

He blushed at your words “goodnight my love, we all can’t wait to see you. They all said goodnight as well.” Chan texted back. “Alright boys, we’ll continue to clean in the morning but we should all sleep.” He said getting up patting Minhos back with a smile. “Bed let’s go” Minho said standing up. The rest of the boys following suit. Their minds spinning with happiness, excited for tomorrow. Excited to see their beautiful mate.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @stayconnecteed @minniesverse @ldysmfrst @jehhskz @lunearta @hello-stranger24 @justastraymoa @hyun-prince @catlove83 @lunearta @iknow-uknow-leeknow @chocolateislife @jisungs-iced-americano @doitforbangchan @minghaosimp @jeonginsleftcheek

[lxdymoon0357]

Idk if your requests are open it not but if it is can you give me some pinjng for Roxanna x fem reader / gen reader? I need more of her 😭

(Honestly, understandable. She is a bit of a goddess...a demonic one, but a goddess nonetheless. Homophobia LGBT ally)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Roxanna Agriche X Fem! Reader Headcanons.

⊈ Rozanna either met you as you were her maid or you were a pet from another noble house. Either way, she had you under her control, doing her dangerous betting every single day. She had you easily wrapped around her perfectly, bloody manicured finger.

⊈ Your life was daily in her hands and she was always careless with it, but you know what you did when you came here; either by force or own desperate situation, but of-course it never scared less not knowig which is your last day.

⊈ Eventually you and her did fall in love and she had you close...Though Lante was horrified at his daughter being in love with a girl, but afterwards he calmed down and let her date you, as long as she'd somehow get a child for him to his lineage continues and Roxanna nonchalantly agrees.

⊈ Level passed!! New Level: You're an Agriche now!

⊈ Of-course you're now also a victim to many of the Agriches, including Dion, Charlotte, Fondaine and possibly others. But it's okay, Sierra adores you, Maria...she is weirdly infatuated, Jeremy is slightly jealous you're taking his sister's attention, but eventually you also become his friend.

⊈ She often feeds your blood to the butterflies as well, so they can recognize you too. Also adding tiny doses of poison into your tea, food, drinks. Has the most expensive furs decorating you with the heaviest security around your room.

⊈ Freedom is basically non-existent with the way she moved you into her room and you didn't go outside for like...three months! (I know it's normal for you nerds, probs. But please be normal right now.) ut yeah, almost zero freedom of going out, your'e free to do yada yada in your room though.

⊈ I know for SURE! Roxanne doesn't allow Dion anywhere near you, you'll easily be his next victim so Dion can see Roxanne's emotions more rawful, Charlotte is just annoyed with you being here, because you're simply BELOW her and you're also one of the favourites of THIS HOUSE?! FUCK YOU!

⊈ Speaking of favourites, you'll be joining them in Lant's "special-favourite children dinner" whenever it happens, maids and butlers and cooks are asked to taste everything in advance so you don't get poisoned by ANYONE. It will rain hell by Roxanna if anything happened.

⊈ Has you in makeout sessions right before bed, her fingers gently groping your tits and tweaking your nips, very gently though...depends if it leads to more or simply just a makeout sessions where you both sleep snuggled against each other, where she wakes up every few hours to make sure you're alive.

⊈ Has made sure you're always as safe as her mum, speaking of her mum. You spend a majority of your free time with Sierra, she likes you though a bit nervous around you two. You have to be super nice and get her to warm up to you and she'll adore you as much as she adores her daughter, likes that someone in this house brings her daughter happiness even if she herself couldn't.

⊈ Lanta, Charlotte, Dion, Maria, Grizelda are weirdly homophobic..yet allies? I don't get it, but imagine them just mocking Roxanne for liking a girl despite being beautiful, but the moment a guy or anyone would try to get near you and the person is dead because they're like "Not Roxanne's little shit, you fucker. I'll fuck you up if you hurt her, she's only ours to hurt" like a messed up family dynamic which is hysterically insane.

[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. xiii: Girl's Night

Chapter Summary: The night is young, and so are they. 🍷🍷🍷

Word count: 4530

Sneak Peak: Aegon turned to look at his brother, shit eating grin plastered on his alabaster face, “This is the best day of my life.”

Warnings: Copious amounts of alcohol, public intoxication, a fun time.

T H E   R E D S

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Valeana was quite surprised at how fast she fell into friendship with Wylla Stark and the third Baratheon daughter, Ellyn. It was within their company that she realized a fundamental truth of her life: she had no real female friends. She had her sisters, but sisterhood bonds through blood and marriage was an obligation. Valeana was always on guard with Floris, and Shyla was… Shyla. A cross between a cat in heat and a drunk butterfly. She had little in common with her.

The day of the two house’s arrival was the same day the King and several of their family members left to attend the funeral of the late Princess Visenya, the youngest grandchild and only daughter of Rhaenyra. Val would have gone with her brother, but she was more of a stranger now to the crown princess. She might have known her better as a child, but after a decade, it felt improper to reunite under the dire circumstances. Clement, however, knew them more closely, having sailed back and forth to Dragonstone and Driftmark more times than she cared to remember. 

The days began somberly now that the Keep was garbed in black and bleak clothing. While the sun still blared overhead, there was a dark cloud over King’s Landing; even the smallfolk mourned the loss. Though life at court still went on, and the convergence of the castle’s occupants was required as if it was a job.

It was expected for all eight of the young ladies to mingle. Cassandra, the eldest, was nearly as hard to endure as Floris (Grafton). Always complaining and pinching her face in clear disgust over the most trivial things that bothered her. Maris was quite the talker; she loved the sound of her own voice almost as much as she loved correcting people. Though, Valeana had noticed whenever a male was present, she would go silent and red-faced. Little Floris was delightful though, but incredibly naive. She took to Shyla early on, but seemed to be struggling to keep up with her. When she did talk, it was only ever about Daeron Targaryen. To balance that out of course, Shyla would talk about Aegon, so it was really an endless circle of prince talk between the two. And then there was Ellyn, who was mostly quiet but often made silent looks behind the rim of her cup that clearly communicated her opinions.

At one point, Cassandra scoffed at younger Floris when she swooned over her absent lover boy, claiming it made her look desperate, and how she– Cassandra that is– “would never be so easy for a man” and how Floris should act more “mysterious and unavailable”, like her. Ellyn’s eyes widened and her perfect U shaped smile quickly hid behind her cup while her trembling shoulders exposed the internal battle she had with her own giggles. 

Valeana felt a bubble of laughter from the girl’s expression alone, and tried fruitlessly to swallow it, but it ended up coming out like a suppressed hiccup. 

Then there was Wylla Stark, who embodied mysterious and unavailable. She sat with her legs perfect crossed under her grey and blue skirts, glass goblet in her elegant hand with her long almond shaped nails, and asked:

“How is that going for you, Lady Cassandra?”

Valeana and Ellyn could have died at the way they were holding their breath to prevent themselves from laughing. 

After that moment, the three spent as much time together as possible. Valeana needed the distraction to keep her mind off of Aemond and his rejection of her peace offering. With Helaena and her brother at Dragonstone, and Aegon fucking off somewhere, she didn’t have anyone else to turn to. 

It was the evening sometime after the hour of the bat, and the three girls were deep into their cups. Their faces flushed with laughter, liquor, and the humidity that still lingered in the night air after a long hot day. 

“It is so bloody hot here, I do not know how you southerners stand it,” Wylla pulled at the loose fabric of her bodice to air herself out. It was enough to see the tops of her breasts, which Valeana caught Ellyn openly staring at. “I miss the cool breeze coming from the North.”

“You get used to it,” Ellyn said, moving her fan to cool off Wylla, who arched her neck in gratitude. “In Storm’s End, it’s always humid. We’re so close to Dorne, but with all our rain, it is never a dry heat.”

“I can’t imagine living somewhere where it storms that frequently,” Valeana leaned her head back into the armchair she sat on, closing her eyes in an attempt to stop the spinning of her head. “Claw Isle has its storms, but at most a few times in a moon’s cycle.”

“I do envy your home, Valeana,” Wylla sighed when Ellyn stopped fanning her to relax her arm. “I’ve always wanted to go to the beach.” 

“You’re in the south now– plenty of opportunity to see the beaches,” Ellyn suggested. 

Valeana made a face, “King’s Landing isn’t a place known for it. Unless you want to smell like fish and shit, and find severed feet along the shoreline.”

“Severed feet?” Wylla said appalled, “Why feet?”

“When people die at sea – or dumped in the water – fully clothed, overtime the water causes it to bloat and decompose. However, the shoes keep the feet afloat, so eventually it just–” Val makes a motion with her hands, micking a limb being pulled off. “--pops off and floats around until it gets beached.”

“That’s disgusting!” Ellyn looked both shocked, but morbidly entertained. “How in the world do you know that?”

“Me and– and Prince Aemond,” invoking his name already gave her a headache. “We used to walk along the shores of Blackwater Rush with Ser Criston, and we would find them more often than I’d care to admit. Maester Orwyle explained to us why. Now this knowledge haunts me to this day, so I must pass it onto others.” 

“How considerate of you, Val,” Wylla shakes her head and takes a sip of her wine. “I will treasure it always.” Val cracked open her eye and pointed at her with a heavy arm, “Good! It will be useful information. In the North… where there are no beaches. Just snow… and hairy men… and-and, whatever it is in the North. Whatsitcalled? Cold Walkers? Ice Soldiers?”

“Shhhh,” Wylla chastised her through her laughter, “They’re called White Walkers, and please do not say it so loudly. It will summon my brother and that is the last thing we want.”

“I mean,” Valeana lifted her head and wagged her eyebrows, “It’s what you don’t want.” 

A pillow went flying at her face, causing both her and Ellyn to bark out laughing. 

“What? What?! Is that not why we are all here? To marry? Find a husband, and all that–” Valeana made a raspberry noise with her lips. 

Ellyn snorted, covering her face, “Oh, gods, do not remind me. That is all I’ve been hearing from not just my father, but all my sisters.”

“You would not want to marry Cregan, darling, trust me,” Wylla waves her off. “He will bore you to tears.”

“But he’s nice on the eyes,” Valeana smiled sheepishly, knowing she was baiting her Northern friend.

“Just wait until your brother returns from Dragonstone, Celtigar. I’ll climb him like a tree.”

“What’s stopping you now, Stark? I’ve got a brother right here.”

“Little Arthor,” Wylla mock pouted, “He’ll suffocate too easily between my thighs.”

“Oh, gross,” Val covered her face, “Please do not paint that image in my head.”

Ellyn shook her head, mildly amused, mildly horrified, “I am so glad I do not have brothers.” 

“Yet,” Wylla reminded. She adjusted herself in her seat, tucking her bare feet under herself to get more comfortable. “So, ladies, tell me: what are your goals for this Conclave? Who do you desire to be betrothed with?”

The Baratheon snorted, “Like we have a choice?”

“Let’s suspend belief for a moment, and pretend we do.”

“I haven’t thought of it,” Ellyn confessed, pulling her knees up to her chest, mug delicately cradled between both hands. “To be honest, if I had a choice in the matter, I would not marry at all.”

“Here, here!” Valeana raised her drink. 

Wylla snapped her head in her direction, “Oh, I find that hard to believe. You grew up in court, surely you, of all people, are more knowledgeable of all the noble born bachelors here in the south, and have an idea or two who you’d like to attach yourself to.”

“I lived here as a child. I spent most of my years here tailing the princes like a lost pup… I barely remember anyone that ever visited,”  Val scrunched up her face in thought. “I vaguely recall the Greyjoys visiting one moon… Only because they were hard to forget. Their sons were absolutely batty, especially the eldest, Dalton.” She straightened herself in her seat, now that her memory was catching up with her. Gesturing with her hands, she continued, “I remember, actually, even at seven years old, that little shit would find every opportunity to accidentally bump into, graze, or even so much as grab my arse! I was nine!”

Wylla huffed a shocked laugh, “Hells, what a little monster. I can only imagine what he is like now, a man grown.”

“Did you tell your father this?” Ellyn asked, face equally appalled. “Mine would have lost his mind.”

Val heaved a sigh, laying her head back against the chair once again, her entire body practically melting in the seat. “No.There was some tension at the time, not sure what it was, but I remember my father telling me to not upset Lord Greyjoy’s sons,” Suddenly, lost in her reminiscence, the blonde laughed. “But-but, Aemond, he–he, oh gods…” She snorted loudly to contain her laughter, covering her face as it got beat red. “He, Aegon and the Greyjoys were sparring in the training yard. He kept on dodging Dalton and using the flat end of his training sword to slap him on the rear, like thirty bloody times. He-he–” Her laughing intensified as she used her hand to illustrate the image she was trying to explain, “He was bruised all over, and so severely he could not sit or lay down on his back for two days.” 

While Valean giggled (by herself) Wylla and Ellyn exchanged knowing glances and smirks, then turned back to the drunk flustered crab.

“Well, I suppose that answers my question,” Wylla quipped smugly, nestling into her seat, smile barely being hidden behind the rim of her goblet. 

Val ran a hand over her face in an attempt to calm herself down. She blearily peered at her raven haired friend, a bit confused, “What question?”

“Who you desire to be betrothed with.”

Valeana looked at her incredulously, “Dalton fucking Greyjoy?!”

“No, you idiot!” Ellyn flailed her arms, “Aemond. Prince fucking Aemond.” 

“Ooh, gods,” Val scrunched up her face, digging the butt of her palm into her eyes as the two girls gushed and agreed with themselves. She had forgotten for a moment that she was no longer friends with Aemond, and he, in fact, hated her. “No, no, not Aemond,” she shook her head vehemently. 

“What!” Wylla nearly shouted, dark icy blues wide, “My Lady Valeana, what do you mean not Aemond? The way your face glowed at just talking about him.”

“And it makes perfect sense!” Ellyn added, “The two of you grew up together, you were quite close from what I was told. Of course it would be Aemond. It’s so sickly sweet, it almost makes me want to vomit my dinner.” 

“No, no, no, Aemond– Aemond would never want me,” Val kept on shaking her head. “He hates me. Loathes me, even. Do-do you two even know what he did to me? Why my family left King’s Landing in the first place?”

The two exchanged looks, faces scrunched as they tried to recall. 

“You injured yourself, I believe?” Wylla tilted her head.

“My father told me that Aegon accidentally knocked you down the stairs? I think?” 

“You two are close– It was Aemond,” Val noticed her cup was empty and bent forward towards the squat table to refill it with red. “And it was not an accident. Our fathers were discussing our betrothal, which he disapproved of, apparently. I was under the foolish impression we were the best of friends, and were meant for each other. Stupid, really, in hindsight. 

“He decided that he disliked me so much that he needed to get rid of me, so he pushed me down a flight of stone stairs after calling me a pig.” She surprised herself at how casually she spoke of the event, but it was likely the alcohol that numbed the reality of her emotions. “Broke my leg so severely they had to cut it off a few moons after.”

She lifted her left leg then, her dress falling down above her knee to expose her wooden foot and calf. Then with a gentle wave of her hand, she motioned along the appendage as if presenting a great trophy, “I call her Lady Footlyn Woodsby, first of her name. Her heir is Ser An-toe-knee Woodsby, the E-bone-knee Knight.”

The two other girls had fallen into a shocked silence for a moment, but that was short lived after Valeana’s introduction of her leg. 

Wylla clamped her hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, “Val-Valeana…” She snorted into her palm. “That’s– I’m so sorry.”

Ellyn had both her hands upon her face, brown eyes peeking through the cracks of her fingers, “Oh-ooooh, I should not be laughing. I am sorry, Valeana.” 

Val waved them off, returning her skirts over her leg, “Worry not. If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.”

Her heartbreaking admittance, despite being veiled with self-deprecating humour, did not go amiss. Wylla and Ellyn’s expressions went soft as they shared another knowing look between each other. The former reached out and placed her hand on Valeana’s knee, thumb moving in comforting motions. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, my dearest. Men are horrible creatures, especially the ones closest to you.” 

That simple gesture and those kind words were enough to crumble her all at once. It had sobered Valeana enough to allow her sadness seep through the armour of numbness she had been trying to craft around herself. Her mouth, nose and eyes felt watery all of a sudden, forcing her to swallow and tilt her head back to stop herself from crying. 

Ellyn made a cooing sound as she unfolded herself from her seat and walked over to her friend from behind and enveloped her shoulders in a hug, resting her cheek on top of her head. It was that gesture of comfort that had made the waterfall finally break through. Valeana had not realized how touch starved she was, how hungry she was for comfort over her heartbreak. This was a level of vulnerability she had never allowed to be exposed around her family, not even Clement. Despite her love for him, men were not well equipped to handle emotional women; he would’ve reacted how men usually did, either dismiss it with aggressive advice, or unsheathe his sword and wage a war in her name. Her step mother, despite her natural maternal instinct, was a woman who would cuddle her to her breast and smother her as if she was a child, not unlike a kiss on a bruise or scraped knee. Nothing substantial, nothing deep or empathetic. Just a salve to numb the pain for a few hours.

No, the comfort from a friend– from a fellow female –was different, almost stronger. 

Like her tears, everything rushed out of her; a great purge of words, of pent up sadness, of suppressed emotions. She shared how much she loved Aemond, missed him down to her bones, how he broke her in more ways than physical, and then she shared the story of her return and the catastrophe she had made that could have been avoided, and how in her most earnest attempt to reconcile, she was ultimately left scarred more, and still yearning for him. A stuttered breath left her lungs when she finished, her shoulders caving in as if the weight of her heart finally did her in. Ellyn still cradled her head from behind, but Wylla had moved to squish in beside her and hold her middle and lay her head upon her shoulder. 

“He does not deserve your love, my darling,” Wylla stroked Val’s hair. “No man alive deserves any of our love. Selfish, fickle-hearted beasts, they all are.” 

Valeana sniffled, head laid in Ellyn’s arm, cheeks sticky with tears, and red from humidity, alcohol, and spending the last several minutes pouring her heart out. These three women were effectively strangers not three days ago, and yet now Valeana never felt more close to another human being. Not since him. Not since Aemond. 

“Except for Cregan,” Val muttered in a small voice, light but coarse through the dryness of her throat. She reached out and patted Wylla on her arm, “Him and his manly shoulders and broad chest–”

“Please shut up,” Wylla replied with a small voice and a weak smack to Val’s face. 

“Let him know I’ve got the hips to birth more of his heirs.”

“I will kill you.”

“Ladies,” Ellyn lifted her head up with a heavy sniff to clear out her sinuses. She wiped her nose and peered over to the table in front of them. “We’ve run out of wine.”

All their heads perked up to glower down at their empty bottles and carafes. This would not do– the night was still young, and so were they. The three ladies also sobered too much for their liking, and the only way to heal this disease was to drink more. 

“Where’s that serving boy?”

“We sent him away for the night, remember?”

“We were fools.”

“Indeed.”

There was a beat of silence, until: 

“Wait, wait,” Val sat up, forcing the two girls to unravel their arms. “I know this castle. I know a shortcut to the kitchens… There’s a secret door over there– behind that tapestry.”

“Which tapestry?”

“The one with the orgy.”

“... They’re all having orgies.”

“This-this one! Where she’s sitting on his face and eating a fig out of the other woman’s mouth,” Valeana stood up, wobbling a bit when she did. She hadn’t realized how much she drank and how long she had been sitting until that moment. But, she was convinced that she was too sober, and that wouldn’t do, so she marched over to the tapestry, unevenly and ungracefully. With one swift movement she shoved the tapestry aside to expose a stone wall.

“Valea–”

“Shush!” The silver haired girl eyed it for a moment before moving her hands along the edges of the stones until she could feel the cracks that formed the outline of a door. With a wicked smile she pushed her shoulder into it, throwing her whole body weight into moving it. With a groan the secret entrance wedged open, an amber glow emitting through the gap from the torch inside. 

Ellyn gaped at it, “How did you know that was there?”

Val waved dismissively, “I was a fat child. If there was a quick route to the kitchens, I was aware of it.”  

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

They had reached the kitchens in a fair amount of time, but they did not, in fact, find wine. But they found bottles and bottles of dusty ale, and they weren’t about to complain. The problem they inevitably had was the trek back. Now that their minds were fully in the thick of inebriation, they got lost within the walls of the Keep and ended up in a completely different part of the castle than they were originally. 

“Valeana, where the hells are we?” Wylla hissed as they rounded yet another stone corridor with very few windows. 

The blonde squinted around them. The three were hanging off each other’s shoulders for dear life. Each clutched a large bottle of ale by the neck as if it was a lifeline; as if it was the only thing that was keeping them from floating away. Valeana craned her neck over their arms and took a sloppy swig of her drink, a droplet escaping her lips and dribbling messily down her chin.

“The barracks hall?” She said after a swallow.

“Are you askin’ us?” Ellyn laughed. “Chisisyerhome, and y’dunno where you ARE?”

“I know where I am!” Val shouted, brow furrowed in determination. “And this is not my home.. It’s-it’s– hic – my personal hell. Fuck it’s so hot, why is it so hot?” She cried out, slumping a bit, forcing the girls to bend at her weight. 

They stumbled forward until they heard the tell tale sound of metal armour clanking ever near. A form of silver and white rounded the corner and immediately halted at the sight of the three noble women linked together by their shoulders, sloshing around drinks shamelessly.

The knight stepped forward, concern marring his face, “My ladies. Are you quite alright?”

“Ser Arryk!” Valeana shouted, arms shooting up in the air, narrowly missing Ellyn’s brow. 

The knight bowed his head, “Erryk, my lady.”

“Oh, right, ‘m turribly sorry,” She threw her head back and jutted out her bottom lip in a pout at her own stupidity. “Forgive me.”

The corner of Erryk’s lip twitched upward. It didn’t take him very long to understand that these three girls were skunked out of their gourds. He gave her a nod, containing his amusement, “You are forgiven, Lady Valeana.”

“You see!” She launched herself forward, disentangling herself from her friends and reaching the white cloak’s side. Her bottle of ale fell from her fingers, clattering and rolling away along the flagstones. She then prodded her finger into his plated chest and looked over at Wylla and Ellyn, “Y’see how easy that is? I apol-ap– apolojiz–fuck me– Apo. Lo. Gized– there you go…— hic — N’you forgave me. Because yer a good man, Ar-Erryk. ‘M sorry, yer names are similar too, is very confusing.”

“Good Ser,” Wylla sauntered over, “Mayhaps you aid us troubled maids… Our foolish guide, full of hubris, led us astray, and now we are hopelessly lost.”

“How dare you insult your future Lady of Winterfell!” Val shoutted, pointing an unsteady finger at Wylla with a step towards her, but ultimately ended up wobbling on her bad leg, forcing Erryk to hold her upright.

Erryk was having a hard time keeping a straight face. It wasn’t every day that he stumbled upon drunk noble born daughters; it wasn’t very ladylike to get this drunk this publically, but he wagered that this wouldn’t be an isolated event these upcoming weeks. 

He snaked an arm under Lady Valeana’s shoulder and hoisted her up on her feet, allowing her to lean against him.

“You’re below the Throne Room, my ladies,” Ser Erryk informed, and the three of them exchanged looks. 

“How the hell did we end up here?” Valeana asked, chin turning up to her anchor. “Erryk, we were in the kitchens. The-the north one. I think.”

“No wonder we are lost!” Ellyn threw her head back. “Ugh, father will be furious.”

“Do not worry, ladies, I’ll safely escort you back, and arrange for a wheelhouse to bring Lady Wylla back to her pavilion.” 

“Such a good man. Ser Erryk,” Wylla’s words slurred when she took an uneven step towards him. “May I ask…Why– no –would you ever consider breaking your vows?” 

“Wylla!” Valeana weakly smacked the Northerner, then promptly turned to the knight. “Do not – hic – listen to her, Erryk. Don’t let this–this–temptress tempt you.”

“I am only saying,” Wylla and Ellyn started to follow the knight as he made his way out of the maze of halls beneath the Throne Room. “All the honourable ones end up being a Kingsguard. It’s such a bloody waste to womenkind!” 

Erryk smiled to himself, though decided to ignore the comment, “Up these stairs, ladies.”

“Oh no,” Ellyn grinned, “Valeana’s mortal enemy.”

Wylla barked a loud laugh and the victim in question craned her neck to shoot her a poisonous glare. 

“I’ll send you to the Wall! Ser Erryk, send this Baratheon traitor to the Wall.” 

“Mayhaps tomorrow, my lady. The hour is already late as it is,” was the Knight’s gentle, albeit amused, reply as he helped her up the stairwell and into the cavernous Throne Room, where he immediately paused upon seeing a pair of men with silver hair.

The women’s collective gasps and loud attempts at quieting themselves had naturally gained the attention of the Throne Room’s sole occupants. 

Ser Erryk immediately bowed, “My Princes. Apologies for the disturbance, I was merely–”

“Egg-On-Toast!” Valeana shouted so loudly it echoed like a lion’s roar. Her arms flew to the air above her head, then immediately marched over, completely ignoring the second prince. Her vision was tunneled, and hadn’t realized that Aegon wasn’t alone. Her warm and slightly sweaty hands gripped the eldest’s face, then she started laughing when he started laughing.

“Valeana–” Ellyn tried to reach her, eyes flickering over to the stiff Aemond that stood not six feet away. 

Aegon’s eyebrows reached his hairline, his grin uncontainable. His hands gripped her wrists, but he didn’t remove them from his face.

“Are you drunk, my darling?”

“... Yes,” she giggled sheepishly. “I see why you do it so often now, is’so fun. Egg-y. My Prince of Scrambled Eggs. Eggs and Bacon–” Val sharply gasped, mouth agape at her genius. “We are Eggs and Bacon, Aegon. Tha’s a good bard song– Ellyn, write that down.”

Aegon turned to look at his brother, shit eating grin plastered on his alabaster face, “This is the best day of my life.”

Valeana’s entire body swiveled around, brow furrowed with clear confusion. “Who are you– SHIII–T!” When she turned she was immediately greeted by the imposing, towering form of Aemond Targaryen. Standing there, head tilted, with his judgey one eye, lips in a thin line and looking delicious with his narrow waist she openly stared at. 

Wylla and Ellyn were snickering behind their fists, nearly down to their knees, failing to contain their nervous laughter. 

Val turned her wobbly, heavy head back at Aegon, lowering her voice in a very poor attempt at a whisper, “Where the fuck did he come from?”

“Darling, he was here the entire time.”

She peered at him skeptically, then looked back at Aemond, and then back at Aegon. Her head dipped to his ear, and attempted to whisper conspiratorially, “Fecker comes outta nowhere all the bloody time, pilfering through the darkness like a thief of joy– hic. Is he a man or a forlorn ghost?”

Aegon contained his laughter when he bit down on his lip, and then glanced up at the silent shadow that was his brother.

“I can hear you, Lady Valeana,” Aemond finally spoke, his voice irritably condescending, which instantly bristled her. 

Val peeled herself off of Aegon’s side and approached Aemond, angling her chin in the air to peer at him with as much dignity as she could possibly manage. And on wobbly knees, she curtseyed and said in the most patronizing tone the Throne Room has ever witnessed: 

“Prince Almond.” 

His eye narrowed, alight with challenge and something else.

Notes: This and the next two chapters are my favourite chapters of this series, so I really hope you guys enjoy it too.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[bunchofdoodlesinspace]

Fuck it, Mystery Twins Hcs:

[specifically post-show hcs]

It takes them a bit to readjust to being at home again. Everything is so aggressively average and normal it's almost mind-boggling.

There is unfortunately an argument about keeping the pig. But Mabel is stubborn and Dipper defends her. And Waddles is also just extremely adorable and hard to say no to. They keep the pig.

What they went through doesn't really start to Sink In until probably a week or so after getting back home. As soon as they're settled fully and back into a routine, it sort of slowly dawns on them that,,,yeah, that really did happen, huh. Some of it results in laughter at the absurdity, some of it fond reminiscing, and some of it...quiet, tense recognition.

Of course, they both get nightmares. Mabel starts getting such vivid ones about being trapped in Mabeland that she actually develops some level of claustrophobia. Dipper, on the other hand, gets horrid sleep paralysis, in which he'll be stuck, unable to move, while his own body stares down at him, wide-eyed and grinning manically.

They do their best to comfort each other. Deep down they know at some point they probably should bite the bullet and try to seek out something more professional, but there's no way to explain any of what they've experienced in a way that makes sense. So they rely on each other, at least for now.

They're still in contact with both Stan and Ford ofc! At first, they started out just having a walkie-talkie type situation, but eventually the kids convince their grunkles to get a tablet of some sort, so they can video call and actually see some of the stuff they uncover.

Trigonometry inexplicably becomes the funniest subject to both of them and no one understands why (it's humour to cope with the horrors)

Another way to cope with the horrors: making a game out of crossing out the "eye" in as many potential Bill peepholes as possible and turning the act into a competition (Mabel is currently winning)

Their parents are absolutely shocked when they both practically beg to go back to Oregon for the summer the following year, after being so reluctant the first year. It becomes the highlight of every year after that.

Mabel goes through like 5 different style phases over the next several years. Every summer post-show she looks different, up until she's like, 18-20. She never stops making her own clothes and stuff though.

They're the first ones to find the statue. Neither of them dares to go near it until they talk to Ford and Stan. And even after they can confirm it's most likely Just A Statue, they all try to avoid that section of the woods. Just in case.

The first summer following the events of the show, Stan and Ford notice the two of them carrying a book around with them. It's a thick notebook, clearly a fairly cheap one bought at some stationary store chain. On the front is a makeshift cover obviously put together by Mabel, with two symbols drawn on paper and taped to the front: a star and a pine tree. Between them sits the number 1, written in sharpie. Upon further questioning the twins explain that it sort of served as a way to handle all the weirdness in the world they were suddenly aware of. Sure, Piedmont is pretty normal. But every place has its mysteries.

Ford is mildly surprised to see Mabel so invested in the journal, given that seemed like Dipper's thing. And in a way, it is. Dipper writes most of the entries and Mabel mostly just adds doodles and pictures and whatever stickers she decides are appropriate. But the journal is just a log of their adventures, and those they always do together. Their first summer made it pretty clear to them: they each have their strengths, but when it comes down to it, they work best as a team. :)

[glisten-inthedark]

The Experiment | Part 2

In case y'all missed it, I asked one of my best friends to watch Stranger Things and here's what she had to say about season 1 and 2 .

Now, here's the updated version of season 3 that she finished so fucking fast and I felt guilty because she told me didn't sleep because she was desperate for answers, my sweet summer child.

This time around she'd update me as she watched the episodes and needless to say I woke up today with way too many messages

She's 100% convinced that Mike is gay because she said and I quote: "What teenage boy takes off the hands of his girlfriend like he did?".She also said that Mike should remember that friendships are important too, she doesn't understand why he's avoiding his friends and focusing too much on El.

She loves Max Mayfield BTW (again, sweet summer child). She 100% agrees that El needs to learn how to be herself without the influence of others.

She said that the biggest problem she has with Mike and El is that El didn't even know what a friend was the first season, how can se be in a relationship? However, she does think that if Mike learns how to listen to her they might work it out but she's not sure they should. "Ok I guess they're not going to work it after all" says her after their break up. Also, she was like: "shouldn't he be more upset about this?

In comes the rain fight scene and I think the conversation deserves to be in a mural somewhere. This is what she said and I apologize for the language and for how she talks about Mike but this deserves to be translated in it's entirety because her rant was epic.

"Why. The. Fuck. Was Mike being such an ass?! He used to be so sweet to Will and now he's treating him like this? Hell nah! Like, I get that he wants to spend time with his girlfriend and that's fine, but that doesn't mean he gets to treat Will like this!

And who the fuck said anything about Will not liking girls? Will didn't! So why the fuck would Mike say this completely unprovoked? Like, this is the kind of shit Will's bullies would say! I don't know who the fuck this Mike is, but it's definitely not the kid from last season.

"Oh se he goes to apologize to Will but doesn't apologize to El?" She asked me after she calmed down from her seething rage. "Inch teresting"

"Oh boy, Billy is gonna die. Am I supposed to want him not to?".

"How the fuck did Soviet Union manage to build this entire lab underground without anyone noticing? And this is I'm thr hight of cold war too, makes no sense but what do I know?"

She absolutely adores Robin, she thinks she and Steve will get together.

"Am I supposed to feel bad for Billy?" Needless to say, she doesn't like Billy.

"What. The. Fuck. Am. I. Watching?" She asked during the people turning into slush scene.

"Oh. So I guess Robin and Steve won't get together after all" lmao I laughed.

"Oh they do want me to feel sorry for Billy, huh"

She had a mental breakdown over Hop's "death". She sent an invoice crying and cursing me for bribing her into watching the show.

She also noticed how unresponsive Mike acted after El told him she loved him and was like: "is this boy ok? Like, I'm sorry Bia (my nickname) but you're telling me he just stood there with his eyes opened while she declared her love and kissed him? Am I watching this right? Answer me dammit!" (She was angry when I refused to tell her anything lmao).

Now, bare in mind that I haven't told her about Byler at all, didn't even tell her I ship it because I wanted her to be as unbiased as possible. She told me she had thoughts/theories and I told them to share them even after she claimed she didn't think she was right.

This bellow are her thoughts and hers alone, translated from Brazilian Portuguese to English.

"I just feel like Hop's letter is telling us something about Mike, maybe? Like, how he's afraid of change, of confronting his feelings, maybe? Like, I know you won't tell me, but I don't think this scene is about El leaving at all, I think it's about Will leaving.

"But I have a theory? I don't know, but the scene parallels the scene from when they find Will's body, right? But he comes home and holds his mom and I think this when he realized he has feelings for Will? Maybe? Or at the very least he realized he isn't straight.

" I didn't think Will was gay until I saw his reaction to what Mike said, and I think Will felt that he was stupid for believing that Mike cared for him at all. He destroyed the castle because he lost his childhood, he lost everything when he wasn't even looking, and I also think he called himself stupid because he thinks it was stupid of him to hope Mike could ever think of Will that way.

"I don't think Mike truly loves El, and he's coming to terms with the reason why he doesn't"

She then begged me for information which I refused to give her, obviously. But this is part 2. Now onto the last season *laughs maniacally *

[lambilegs]

lee making u squirt!!

lee harker making you squirt hehe (contains: reader receiving fingering, reader squirting, lee giving oral to reader after squirting, dirty talk, use of "good girl," reader is referred to as having a "cunt," "pussy," "g-spot," "clit," "tit")

(thank you sm for the ask this was soooo hot to write hehe)

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

you're moaning and writhing on the bed, mind so hazy you can't even remember how you got into this position. all you know is that lee was doing something, and you felt like you'd nearly come undone watching and pondering over her long fingers. you siddled close to her, pressing small, wet kisses on the slope of her throat, one hand fiddling with the soft fabric of her sweater.

which led to where you are now. you're on your back, totally naked, legs spread, cunt sopping and wet as she buries two fingers deep into it, easily fucking you open. she's laying on her side next to you, still in her clothes one hand stroking and combing back your hair from your forehead. her other one is slick with sweat and your juices, the second of which fills the room with a heady scent from just how wet you are for her.

she's so gentle, head pressed into the pillow, kissing at your ear and murmuring soft, aimless words, such as, "there you are, baby, there's my good girl," or, "god, you sound soaked." just easy, quiet mumbles of hers that send your pussy making even more embarrassingly squelching noises.

it only worsens when her fingers press into your g-spot, fingers tenderly pushing against the texture of it and sending you arching your back. the sight of your chest so close to her face has her eagerly latching her mouth onto a tit, wet, hot mouth lavishing relentless attention on your nipple. at one point, she pulls back, and playfully grazes her teeth over it, grinning when you squirm and cry out.

her other hand moves, thumb starting to softly rub tight circles into your stiff clit. the ache in that spot is unbearable and it somehow both surges in intensity and instantly gets relieved when she spoils you with some harder touches, the pad of her finger moving harshly side to side. between that, and her continuous thrusting against your g-spot, tongue still lapping desperately at your bulging nipple, you're a mess.

you start feeling it. not just your impending orgasm, but something else. you've heard other people say it's a tingling sensation, and for weeks, you've been on the precipice of giving into it, but holding back each time. you spoke to lee about it just two days ago, and remembering the eager look on her face is enough to give you a bit of motivation. as you near closer to coming, you start blinking hard in hesitation and worry.

lee, darling lee, notices immediately, and moves her mouth from your chest to your neck, whispering warmly against it, "you can let it out, baby. you can squirt all over. I wanna see it, wanna taste it."

her quiet murmurs have you shivering, and you nod tightly, feeling immensely assured by her presence. no matter what, lee was your constant, and you grip onto that knowledge as tightly as ever now.

you come, walls fluttering and clamping tightly on her fingers, and at once, you feel something shooting out of you, wet and gushing, spraying all over the sheets. your body trembles like a leaf, something skin to a wail tumbling from your lips as your pussy feels impossibly wetter, a clear liquid, locked between your walls, bursting out.

lee doesn't relent, her own breaths heaving and turning into gasps as she watches. her tongue darts out to wet her lips, eyes intent and focused when watching you. seeing her eyes locked onto your pussy, cheeks flushed, practically panting, has you only more aroused, knowing you have her full attention. she continues flicking her thumb along your clit, lightening the pressure but continuing the motion, drawing your orgasm out as much as possible.

after she presses kisses to your cheek, mumbling to you that you did so good, she kisses her way down your stomach, spreading your legs open with a soft smirk, clearly satisfied at the large, soaked spot spreading into your sheets. when you nod your okay, your pussy less sensitive, she presses her mouth to you, mouth lapping gently at your pussy, mumbling, "god, and this is all mine?"

yeah you squirting will probably be her special interest for the next month LOLLL

[cator99]

New Girl Saga Update:

The Stench And Rot Chapter

Due to my lengthy bathroom redecorating, the unemployed ftm had resorted to using the basement washroom last night. He reported back to me, overcome with despair. Even he— who has been a strong advocate for the new girl, despite all things— was left appaled and slightly offended. He had to clear a path and clean the seat just to use it. The landlord was supposed to come yesterday morning to fix the leak in there— and thank god she rescheduled. Imagine living somewhere illegally, tasked only with covering up your tracks so this is not obvious, while risking total household eviction if your presence is discovered (as I've independently established, this isn't the case but I cant have them knowing that I've had any dl contact with the landlord and I'd rather everyone believe their interpretation of events anyway so we have more reason to push her out— she's more than well-off enough to afford normal Toronto rental prices, which is admittedly part of why people have been more patient with her, since she's helped the ftm with rent when he couldn't pay it in the past— her room could go to someone who truly needs it, just like I did when I found this place after months of couch surfing and sublets!), and then to turn it into such a disgusting fucking mess, knowing it's only going to reflect poorly on the person who lives down there, who ftr has been at her boyfriend's place all week and had neither the time nor the energy to intervene when she came home at 5am and realized there was rotten produce in a fabric bag seeping its fucking rot juice on the kitchen tiles and stinking the place up... good god... dishes in the sink stacked like jenga that had been piling up since last time she was there... a bathroom with odd and mysterious stains all over the floor and toilet... clothes and garbage everywhere... clumps of hair seemingly sprinkled atop everything as a garnish.... stink and stench abound. My coworker-housemate is the only other one in the basement. She may be a clutter-accumulating type of person (for those without hobbies– collecting is a half-decent substitute. Whatever gets you out of the house, I suppose), but everything she owns, at the very least, has a designated place. Regardless. Despite being a rather loud and blunt person, she's been conditioned by Pins Girl (long gone... it all just feels like an old bad dream......) to not say a damn thing about the new girl's unsanitary habits. But the landlord had rescheduled for 1:30pm today. Something's gotta give. Exasperated messages were sent by her, as well as by ftm, around 6am. No response. Afternoon comes. No response. Chat registers that new girl had long since seen the messages.

I had my bedroom door open as got ready to go I for a grocery run around 1pm. From here, I can see down the hall and into the kitchen, which leads to the front door– slightly out of view from my pov, but I can always hear the door open and close, even if my own door is shut. This is when I observed new girl tiptoe up from the basement, noticeably careful to be as quiet as possible as she crept through the kitchen, slipping out the front door. She's not a quiet nor subtle person, so I immediately found it odd, and listened in as she made close to no sound shutting and locking the door. With her back to me, she likely didn't realize that anyone had noticed her do this. The landlord's arrival with the handyman was imminent. She gave her ETA. The group chat lit up in a panic. The other basement dweller woke up to check out the state of the basement. Not a damn thing had changed. As the minutes slipped away, panic set in. I went out to grab groceries. Basement tenant rushed to clean up as best as she could in her half-awake state. However, not wanting to actually have to deal with someone else's disgusting rotten produce, she simply threw it into a plastic bag and hid it in the storage room. Sprayed some febreeze. The stench was impenetrable. It then just smelled of febreeze plus rot and stench and aura of disgust. She did her best with what little time she had to clean, but she truly didn't know what to do with all of the clothes and new girl belongings that had been thoroughly scattered like an old barn in a tornado. She tossed it all into a bag, and again into the storage room. 1:45 rolls around. The landlord has come and gone, as the handyman had only decided to do a quick assessment in order to return later. Group chat is pinging in my pocket as I'm in the checkout line. Landlord had asked Basement Tenant if the ceiling in the storage room was still leaking as well. It has a slight leak. They had to go in there. Door opens– and the smell of rotting produce hits them like teargas.

I've since sent a message to the landlord explaining the situation, and that new girl has said she is looking for a new place, expressing that everyone is hoping this will happen as soon as possible, since her presence has become such a detriment to the entire household. Fucking hell... the absolute disrespect..........

[ebongawk]

Hi!! HUGE fan of “even the stars (are taking aim)” here (very patiently waiting for the next chapter to drop😌🙏) and figured I may as well try out this prompt thing:

Eddie and Chrissy having their first Big Damn Kiss in a rainstorm, someplace where no one can see them, maybe after some kind of argument so they’re already passionate. I’d love to see what you create from this decently cliched premise😊✨

omg, thank you so much! 🥹 every star in the sky was updated on Tuesday!! and I'm hoping to be back to a semi-regular update schedule. however:

🌧️🌧️

He shouldn't be pissed.

He shouldn't be pissed.

He shouldn't be pissed.

(He was fucking fuming.)

Because it was August. The absolute tail end of the last summer he would ever spend in Hawkins, Indiana if he had fuck all to say about it. Because this was the absolute last goddamn high school-adjacent party he would ever be posted up at as a dealer, selling the bottom of his stash's barrel and high-tailing it the fuck outta here in four days.

Because he'd spent the last eight months falling into a weird, incredible friendship with Chrissy Cunningham and convincing her she was actually fucking worth something more than her mother let her believe, getting her to break up with her shitty boyfriend and start the process of reclaiming her life, only for her to show up at this stupid party on Jason Carver's arm.

She'd dumped him in March. Before spring break. Yet here she was, tucked under his ugly-ass letterman sleeve as she nursed the same red solo cup the entire night, and it made him want to fucking barf.

Eddie rolled his neck. Tucking another cigarette between his lips as he cranked up the prices of his product out of sheer spite. Taking advantage of the hazy stupor and fading into the background.

Chrissy tried to get his attention. More than once. He just ignored her.

What the fuck else was he supposed to do? Watching her intentionally go back to that asshole wasn't really something he'd even thought was a possibility. So why would he have prepared himself for the blow?

He just didn't think it'd hurt so fucking much.

Finally, after about midnight, he was officially sold out. Out of the game entirely. He snapped his box of tricks closed, protecting the crinkled pack of cigarettes from the summer rainstorm he could see pelting the porch screens. He didn't bother bidding anyone goodnight.

The one person he thought would care was too busy flashing the fakest fucking smile she had in her arsenal at that blond jockstrap.

Whatever. Screw it. Who cared? A year from now, he'd be so far removed from all this bullshit that it wouldn't even cross his mind.

(Even if that thought currently made him want to puke up his guts and choke on them.)

Uncaring of who he hit on his way out, Eddie slipped out the front door after smashing into a few angry shoulders. The shouts of indignation at his back may as well have been whispers for how much of them he heard, bowling his way into the warm rain and rushing toward his van.

He always parked hidden away from these events. Ever since Hopper decided to be happy and move to California with Joyce Byers and company, the P.D. had it especially out for Eddie. Giving Callahan a reason to crash a party would have him on way too many shit-lists to count.

Which was normally fine. Except right now. Soaked through by the rain and barely halfway to his stupid fucking sanctuary.

"Eddie!"

Christ.

Her voice still made him stop in his tracks. Shoulders heaving, spine straightening like someone suddenly jammed a rod down it.

Why did it hurt so much?

Turning, he tried to keep his expression as even as possible as he looked at her. Drenched from the stupid water falling from the stupid sky, her hair was already a mess plastered to her skin as she did her best to protect herself from the onslaught.

Too bad Eddie had already been caught in the metaphorical crossfire.

"What, Cunningham?" he asked, giving her obvious pause as she blinked up at him. He'd never been so harsh with her.

He didn't even know why he was being so harsh with her.

(Yes he did.)

"I-I just..." she started, holding an arm over her eyes so she could look up at him. They were standing in the spotlight of a streetlamp, the only thing illuminated in the entire world, and that anger still oozed from him like a bad infection. Festering too close to the surface to remain covered. Like the rain was washing it out, bringing it forward. "You–– You didn't, um, say hi, and you––"

"Okay?" He shrugged. "So, what, I'm legally required to exchange pleasantries with you every time I see you?"

"No, of course not, just––"

"Honestly, kid, I just wanna go home," he said before she could continue. Backing up a step. "Been nice, y'know, being friendly and all, but––" Coming to an immediate halt when one of her dainty little hands darted out and fisted in the wet fabric of his t-shirt.

"Eddie, you're being mean," she stated, her voice hard. Something she learned from him, he knew. Saying things, pointing out when people were being unfair instead of just writing welcome across her forehead and lying down for someone to be shitty to her. "And I–– I know this is about Jason, okay, but you didn't even let me explain––"

"Explain what, Cunningham?" he nearly shouted. "Because, honestly, I cannot for the life of me figure out why you'd willingly find yourself trapped under the weight of that jerk wad's arm."

"Because I need to be!" Chrissy really did shout, shaking her fist in his shirt for emphasis. The other was fisted against her own abdomen. Letting those mascara streaks fall down her cheeks like tear tracks.

Eddie scoffed. "Oh, you need to be? Excuse me, princess, didn't realize you needed him so much!"

"I don't––"

"Could've fucking fooled me, honestly!"

"I don't need him, Eddie! I just need to play her game for three more days and then––"

But she didn't finish her thought.

Instead, before he could even process what was happening, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and surged up onto her toes, pressing her lips clumsily against his.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Eddie didn't think. Didn't fucking breathe. He just groaned, cupping her jaw in his hands and kissing her like his fucking life depended on it.

She tasted like rainwater and watermelon lipgloss and the fucking sunrise breaking past the clouds, basking him in her light and warming him against the rain. They moved together, a dance of lips and tongue, her little mewl of pleasure rolling down his spine as he greedily drank in every piece of her she was allowing him.

Shit. Shit. This was gonna hurt, wasn't it?

They fell apart, both of them pulling in air like they'd forgotten they had lungs, and Eddie let his forehead drop against hers. Holding her for however long he was allowed, how ever long she gave him.

"I don't need him," she whispered again, her voice near enough that it was like he could finally hear her. "I'm not even with him. It's just... It's just until I get my college fund, and then..."

"Does he know that?" Eddie asked, hating the vehemence in his own tone.

"Yes, Eddie," she assured him. "He's not as bad of a guy as you want to believe, you know." Her hands came up, wrapping around his wrists as she looked up at him. Blinking into the rain, she gave him a real, actual smile. One of those little ones he kinda hoped was reserved just for him. "He knows how I..."

She shook her head, then blew his fucking mind when she pushed up enough to kiss him again.

"I need you," she informed him. And Eddie could see her opening the little doorway into his chest and reaching in to pull his heart out. Though whether she was doing that now or eight fucking months ago was impossible to say. "I want you and I need you."

Oh, he was gonna explode. Poof into a million little bits, covering her in heart-shaped blood and viscera.

"Only if you need me, too, though," she finished when his fucking voice box wouldn't work.

He kissed her again. An emphasis to a point he couldn't verbally make. And she melted against him like it was everything she needed, everything she'd been craving alongside him for the last eight months.

"Christ, sweetness, I think I'm already in love with you," he laughed, the sound wet around the rain still falling around them.

"Oh," she breathed, looking up at him, her eyes so fucking bright in that subtle streetlamp light that he wanted to claw his way out of his own skin and use it as an umbrella for her. "Oh, that's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Because, um, I was hoping you'd have room for two in that van of yours come Wednesday." She grinned. "Should have all my stuff sorted out by then."

Eddie laughed again, bright and loud, letting the rain wash away all that gross upset so he could lift her by the waist and spin her around. She screamed in delight, arms around his shoulders, and he stopped and held her steadily above him so she could bring her lips down to his once more.

"I've got all the room in the fucking world for you, baby."

[your-darling-gaze]

The Wedding - Chapter 1

The evening was falling, I hastened around the room, trying to figure out if I was looking fine enough. 'Shouldn't have eaten rice the other night....bad, bad decision....' I think to myself, Nervously spinning as I eye my reflection in the mirror, a very visible bloat making me look fairly bulked, but I couldn't be thinking of all this right now.

I exhale, looking at the heap of make-up on my table, sighing. 'Should have started sooner...' I say, starting to pick out shades that fit in most likely.

The Pre-Wedding Dinner, of course, was something new to me.

Very new. The Theme was locked in. 'The 40s.' So of course, I had to look like a Good-Girl-Faith Lady. White, the very obvious for a bride, and floral, to make it look most decent, let us turn a blind eye to the neck line, please. After the Bachelorette Explorations of Europe, It had completely slipped my mind that I was not supposed to be looking for a matching blush 2 hours before the damn dinner.

I sigh into my hands, rubbing my face wearily as I tap away at my screen; the dialer ringing sounding more annoying than it usually does.

'Ro, Come help me out here.'

She was 'Rescue'. You know, Like...Iron Man's rescue? yeah. She owned up to that little nickname. Punctual and very, very loyal, she was inside the house exactly 4 minutes after that call ended. I could tell from the keys clinking, there she was.

'I told you, that you needed to get these things done in the damn afternoon itself!'

'I'm sorry! I was onto the caterers for tomorrow and I had to go pick out flowers and every thing...It completely-'

'Cher, Girl, Work.' She said, rinsing away at the heap of make up. Sometimes she is more practical with things than I am. When she isn't high, that is. I did of course, ask her to lay off on her stock for a while, at least since a week before the wedding. With a few needed things in hand, she and I were working on the sequence. The very staple.

First, Dress. Next, Hair. Then, Make-up.

'Where's the dress...? Tell me you did not leave it-'

'I did not leave it at the dry cleaners. Ro, Please, I'm not stupid, my dearest.'

'Well...'

'Not THAT stupid, Ro, please.'

I paused, my voice slightly silencing as I tried my damn hardest not to tear any gaps anywhere into the dress. Not that I looked like a trapped pigeon as I tried to fit, but anyway. 'Jesus, I'll donate a few million if I don't suffocate in this dress tonight...'

'Cher, why's it taking long to fit...?'

'I don't know~! I gave my right size, the same size that I gave for the gown too...'

'Hurry the fuck up or we're going to have an angry Bucky yelling up at us both...'

'Sorry.'

3 hours. Possibly the most frustrating time I've spent with my hair and make-up in my life. All to settle onto something vividly simple. I liked it that way.

'You look amazing.' 'Ro, please.' 'No, I'm not kidding. He's better faint when he see you.' 'Ro!' 'What..?'

I huffed, fixing up, one last time. Swallowing, as I unintentionally sucked in again. This was going to be a long, long night.

___________________________________________

I slowly made my way inside, fingers constantly occupied with spinning the ring, a slight anxiety. I know right, a social setting. Amazing. But this was...my dinner. Our dinner. I was afraid but I was happy too. The setting was perfect. Everything, just the right amount. The light dimmed to that perfect glow. Drinks that are always fizzy. Everyone dressed in their prettiest, vintage clothes. Odour of the barbeque grill, a sweet scent of my own lily soap on me. Ah, and...Jazz too.

Gazes turned, of course. The warmest smiles, nods of encouragement, cheers and whispers, all at once. It was thrilling, to say the least. My gaze searched around, the other hand at the same time, reaching to hold onto Rowan, just a little tighter.

Then, I saw him. He had this vector resistance, that seemed to make all time slow around him. For a moment, I had almost seemed like a fool, with that look on my face. Dazed.

My smile fluttered genuinely. I approached, quiet, as to not take his attention away. Guests were still yet to arrive. My gaze turned once back to Rowan, a supportive look in hers. I sat by him, observant.

'The Hobbit.' The Original One. He had given me that when we first met. What coincidence.

I smiled, glancing away at the drinks starting to be served. I was glad that I could make it in time today. Would've been a shame to be late to something you hosted. And borderline embarrassing too, for the both of us. 'What bride shows up late, no?' I sigh, wandering, countless conversations made and the dinner hadn't really begun yet. I hum a tune, looking around for Rowan. Where did she wander off to...? I walk around, picking up a drink.

'I am hoping she didn't go-' My chain of thought is broken by a bitter sting down my throat as I swallow the drink with clear reluctance, my face forming a not so gentle frown. 'The champagne is...bitter?'

I was panicking inside. The champagne was bitter. Oh, it is a disaster. Someone needed to stop the drinks before they reached. No, no, no.

My haste around is halted when I bump head first into Rowan, the leftover champagne in my hand almost spilling over.

'Ro, Help. The champagne...it's- it's not-'

'Oooh, drink.' She gleams, taking the champagne from me, swallowing it down without a doubt, leaving me utterly perplexed. I watch in horror as she down the glass with a satisfied hum.

'The champagne, what about it...? Ice? You want ice?'

'No~! That's...that's not...it...isn't it bitter?' I whisper yelled, still in shock from the previous little burner.

'Honey, this is Dom Perignon 2010 Magnum. This is anything but bitter. This is something Tony would kill to have in his collection.'

'But it's...'

'It's okay, cher, different folks, different views. Besides, this is better than my past week of staying clean.'

I sigh. At least it wouldn't be a disaster.

_________________________________________

Dinner was served. The atmosphere instantly smelled of fine sizzling barbeque meals and stews. Helpful, Easy glances were exchanged around the table as each one dug in. I exhale, slowly slipping my hand into James'. It brought a sort of ease, really. He was careful, nudging me for seconds when he knew I needed them, getting my locks out of my face when needed. He was very well aware, even while being occupied in very many conversations with the men. My pinky stayed locked with his, of course. It was something we did in public settings. He knew that my anxiety would continue to pin me at most times.

With a serving of the very staple, New York's Beloved Blueberry Cheesecake, and very many toasts made from all near and dears, the dinner, at last, concluded. Excitement in each person's goodbye for what's to come the next morning. The big day. 'How cliche.' I thought to myself, sighing. I held onto James' arm, entwined with care. I glanced up at him. My smile was vibrant, yes. A little sickness in my gut, I pushed the feeling away. My cheek slowly rested onto his shoulder.

'Quite a night.'

______________________________________

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Can I just say this part of the casting call for the new golden trio of the Harry Potter reboot is fucking hilarious as shit for so many reasons???? For starting orders, JKR with diverse characters??? The jokes write themselves, really, because the same woman who had characters defend elf's being slaves to someone trying to free them and the same woman who can't even google Asian names and named a black character Kingsley Shacklebolt, being diverse in a reboot??? Let alone the same woman who wrote werewolf's as being a representation for AIDs and claimed a character who had been dead for a while by that point was gay the whole time but had chosen to stop being gay or at least never love someone else because his one love had been a villain being fine with new actors having sexualities that aren't straight??? And the same woman who throws up at the mere sight of a cis woman who isn't up to her standards of a woman and throws tantrums about trans people on a daily basis??? Potentially around kid actors who don't identify as cis??? And I cannot even recall if we had ANY character in the books who was disabled, so like, uh, I'm scared how JKR will tackle this one, and its not mentioned but religion is among those protected by law with casting and just, given JKR had every single character celebrate Christmas and confirmed only ONE Jewish student attended Hogwarts...yeah no.