#mans wearing the chanel boots

[helluvahotmess]

so we gonna talk about vassagos thigh high boots or

[elcarimercanto]

Things that actually happened in Star Wars Pt. 2

A cowboy breaks into the Jedi temple and steals one of their magic cubes

Obi-wan threatens to eat a shark man in prison

Lando wears Han's clothes

Palpatine told his villan origin story to Anakin at a fish opera

Leia gets shot out into space and then superman flies her way back to safety

Force Speed was shown like one time in The Phantom Menace

Fives makes a dick joke to Anakin

Zeb makes a dick joke to Ezra

Hondo almost sold Ahsoka as a sex slave but then gets saved by a circus act of children

Rex has to distract obi wan while Anakin and Padme were sexting

Padme gets Jabba's gay uncle arrested at his strip club for kidnapping his great nephew

Zeb and Kallus end up living together

Anakin and Padme almost make out on a space train until Obi-wan cockblocks them

Anakin tries to feel someone's temperature with a gloved robotic hand.

A clone gets eaten by a space eel(Rip Cutup)

Literally everything in the Umbara arc

Ezra gets milk cartons thrown at him then falls off the flying ship

Count Dooku throws a sand attack at Anakin

The council sent the horniest Jedi to protect the hottest senator

Luke shows up to fight Palpatine with the Chanel boots on like the fashion icon he is.

Luke wears Han's pants to the medal ceremony

Shaak Ti's died at least 4 times

Basically D-Day but it's Geonosis instead

Obi-wan and Girlfriend go for a casual stroll then witness a terrorist attack and a suicide

Link to part 1

[odiesdayoff]

Fly Boy

Pair: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader

Summary: Frustrated with Neil's rule about the employees being required to cosplay, you decide to mess with him.

Warnings: SMUT; 18+; Neil is a bit pathetic and mean at points; he can't find the clit but has a big dick lol

“Surely, you’ve seen something by Milos Foreman.” Neil held a stack of VHS that needed to be reset. It was mostly older stuff, you saw the worn copy of Persona in the middle. He and Jonathan had a heated argument (or discussion, as they referred to it) about why the customer would stop watching in the middle, but you understood. Only the men deeply involved in film could possibly enjoy something so bad. Too trained to think black and white meant that it was a good movie automatically. 

You shrugged, continuing to put the tapes on the shelf. “Never heard of him.” Paisa slid in right next to the edge of the shelf and The Red and The White. Only this place would have a section dedicated to foreign language war films. Like it would kill him to buy a copy of Shrek 2.

He nearly dropped the tapes on the counter and looked at you as if you just admitted to a horrible crime. “How have you never heard of him? One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest? The Fireman’s Ball? ” Just because you heard of the movie didn’t mean you knew every production assistant’s name. You watched movies for fun. They just weren’t your taste.

“More like The Fireman’s Balls.” You stifled a laugh at your own joke, though Neil was far from impressed or amused at all.

He put a tape into the rewinder and shook his head. “We’re gonna fix that. This Saturday.”

“Can’t do this Saturday.” He continued his quite bewildered stare at you. Of course, he forgot. “It’s your little Star Wars marathon night.”

He nodded with realization. “Right.”

His slight frown made you feel guilty, as it always did. Somehow, the grown man always managed to use puppy eyes on you successfully. “We’ll watch them. Soon.” He continued to rewind the tapes with a smile.

Star Wars wasn’t exactly your cup of tea. Boring was the descriptive term that rested on the tip of your tongue whenever the topic was brought up in the store. Not that you would ever admit that out loud. All three of them gave you a college-level lecture when you suggested that the Chanel boots-wearing Luke might have been into men. God forbid you had fun.

The costumes for women were slim, at least they were on Amazon. Your options were Padme, Leia, Rey, or some random obscure character from a show or cartoon you’d never heard of. A part of you wanted to make felt ears and be Jar Jar Binks just to piss them off.

There was still a way to mess with them, Neil especially. Hopefully, the extra you paid for overnight shipping was worth it and actually pulled through. 

By Saturday, you walked into Gumshoe with a large coat covering your costume. You braided your hair to the best of your abilities, trying to get as accurate as possible. The fabric of the costume was uncomfortable, digging into your skin and surely leaving marks you’d feel for days after.

Nerds crowded the small store, much more than usual. It was events like this one that made you reconsider your employment and how much you were a fan of movies in general. A Darth Vader brushed by you with a red solo cup of beer. Not many women were there, other than a few of the regulars dressed as Padme and Ahsoka. 

Neil, in Han Solo’s iconic white shirt with the navy blue vest (the version from Return of the Jedi ), waved you over to join the couch with him, Jonathan, and Lucian. A New Hope was in the VHS player and ready to start, the original cut before George Lucas made revisions of course. He was so proud of winning the Etsy bid for the original set of VHS tapes. 

You dropped the coat as you walked over and draped it on the front counter, locking eyes with the group as the costume was finally revealed: The bikini Leia wears at the beginning of Return of the Jedi. A part of you was anxious about the amount of skin you were showing and the people who were staring daggers into you. All you cared about was Neil’s reaction.

None of them said a word as you sat down on the couch next to them. “So, when’s this movie going to start?” Three pairs of eyes just looked back at you, more specifically, how your breasts bounced when you sat down and the thin straps that held the cloth that covered your panties. All you wore to work were t-shirts and jeans, along with the occasional tank top that left much to the imagination. You leaned over to the table and took the can of beer that Neil had been drinking, bringing it to your lips.

Neil cleared his throat. “Um, right now, actually.” He called everyone to the couches and rug, made a quick introduction to the night and thanked everyone for coming, then started the movie. You couldn’t help but notice the way his hands were clasped in front of his crotch and the bulge he was trying to hide.

Another person, dressed as Obi-Wan Kenobi in the third film, sat next to you. Only fifteen minutes in, he did the classic “fake yawn” in order to wrap his arm around your shoulders. He wasn’t slick, but as much as you noticed the attempt at flirting, Neil did as well. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning his attention back to the movie and trying not to make his glances towards you too obvious.

The can of beer didn’t last you too long, only until they were in the trash compactor. There was no way that you would get through the rest of these movies sober and a half-can of beer wasn’t going to get you there.

You got up and walked to the storage closet, where you knew that a full case of beer was hidden. Finally alone, you pulled out a can and opened it, allowing the lukewarm liquid to coat your throat. The beer was still a bit disgusting, but it got the job done. “What the fuck are you wearing, Princess?”

Neil stood in the doorway, closing the door behind him. You shrugged, even though you knew that he knew you were getting to him on purpose. “I’m participating. You never let me live down the Lord of the Rings night when I wore my regular clothes.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to whore yourself out and wear practically nothing.”

“It’s accurate, not whoring out. Are you mad that I’m wearing it or that people are looking at me in it? What is it, Fly-boy?” You crossed your arms, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and creating more cleavage than there already was.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Y/n.” His hands cupped your cheeks and he pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours. It was a side of him you’d never seen before, his eyes were dark and only focused on you. Your back hit the wall and Neil’s hands traveled lower, pulling the string that held the bra together and ripping fabric until it fell to the floor.

“Now, beg me to fuck you like the whore that you’ve been parading yourself as all night. I know that’s what you want.” His hot breath burned your neck as he trailed his lips from your mouth to your collarbone. His words cut deeply, like nothing you’d expect to come from his mouth. Who knew sweet Neil could turn into this?

You nodded. “Please, Neil. I need you to fuck me. I’ve wanted you for so long.” He moaned against your skin as you spoke and hastily unbuckled his belt, freeing his aching cock. You untied the bottom of your costume and dropped your panties with it.

His chest pressed against yours and you winced as the cold wall came in contact with your bare skin. He wasted no time in lining his tip with your entrance and pushing in, softly moaning into your neck. “You’re so warm. You’re not a whore, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Fuck.”

So, he really was all talk. Once he felt the touch of a woman, he became a needy mess. “It’s okay, Neil. Just, ah!” It was now that you finally understood the saying about nerdy boys and the size of their cocks, feeling him hit spots you didn’t know existed. You only hoped that the ongoing battle within whatever galaxy or solar system was louder than both of your unholy gasps and moans.

You would never hear the end of it if Jonathan or Lucian heard. They gave you enough shit for Neil’s unbelievably obvious crush on you that you chose to avoid on behalf of keeping peace in the store. Clearly, you had failed miserably in that aspect. Look at Neil’s cute face.

Not to mention his cock. The same cock currently driving into you and knocking the wind from your lungs. Neil fucked into you like he was on a time limit, chasing his climax and nearly sinking his teeth into your bare shoulder. “Your tits are mesmerizing.” You held back a laugh at his comment, reaching down to your clit before he slapped your hand away. “No, let me do it.”

A part of you wanted to deny it, but you let him. He blindly reached down and rubbed your labia, thinking he was on the money. You squeezed your eyes shut and gently guided his fingers to your clit, jolting when he found the right spot. “Oh, Neil…so good.”

His pace slowed and became less controlled. “I’m so close, sweetheart.”

“You’ll pull out, right?” He bit his lip and nodded. By the way he held tightly onto your hips and breathed in your scent, you knew that he barely heard your request.

The suspicion turned into fact when he stilled, pushing himself further into you as he came. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll pay for the pill. You’re just…so warm.”

You nodded along with him, not caring as you crossed the finish line as well. As you both came down from the high, the realization kicked in. He tucked himself in his boxers and buttoned his pants. You picked up your shirt, well, bra. The straps were broken. “Shit, Neil. I can’t wear this.”

He furrowed his brows, then rummaged through one of the boxes in the corner of the room. A large, baby blue t-shirt with the Gumshoe logo on it was in his hands. “Put this on. Say you got too cold.”

You caught the shirt and put it on, watching the fabric fall to your knees. “Great.”

“You still look sexy.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked you up and down.

You rolled your eyes. “What does Leia say to Han Solo? Nerf-Herder? You’re that."

[sugarpasteltmnt]

WAAAAAAAA

ASDHDHAHDHAHA HES SO COOL!!!! 😭💓💗🩵 THANK U SO MUCH 💯💖👏😭💕🩵💓😭🩵

Ņ̴̻̰̼̼̘̃͊̓̿̍̉̌ͅÉ̴̻̹́̌͆̄̅̋̅̉O̸̢͔̰̱̠̫͔̮͕̾́N̷͙̥̊͝ ̴̨̪̺͋͂̍V̵̛̱̱̝͋̊̍̔̂̊͝O̸͔̻͓̟͙͉̗͌Ị̴̛̖̘̞̪̖͈̊̒͌͊͆̈D̷̰̟͙̏̇͒̿́̌

“You wanna F̷̬̒̒̃Ḯ̶͚̻̈́̆G̷̯̦̠͝H̶̙̯̖̠́͆̓̓T̵̨͕̗̙̈́̂?”

“The Neon Void” by sugarpastels on Ao3

ugh i have brain worms for this fic

notes about sketch:

gave him boots because i felt like his dramatic bitch ass would jump at any chance to wear big stompy boots (no matter how impractical they can be)

BIG EARS

red parts inside ears resemble demon horns, symbolizing how he’s seen as an almost “demonic” presence

this is just my silly little interpretation of void; several parts of the design don’t line up w/ the descriptions in the fic exactly. the changes were made for convenience and ✨aesthetics ✨

i don’t draw humanoids very often, but this was a fun challenge !!

i honestly expected to struggle with the flowy clothes, but they were surprisingly easy lol

i think i’ll try to render this, but i can’t guarantee that it’ll go well

thank you for your service @sugarpasteltmnt o7

[dark-raven-feathers]

“Oh noooo RTD made Doctor who woke!!! There’s a trans character on the screen!!! How dare he!!! And cast a black man!!!! Ahhh!! The horror!!”

If you stopped watching the moment twelve turned into thirteen, then sorry folks, you’ve been seeing that good ol’ woke propaganda already. Or maybe you have the observational skills of a dry flap of human skin, and missed the part where Bill asks the Doctor about gender, and he responds, word for word “You humans and your obsession for gender. We're the most civilized civilization in the universe. We're billions of years beyond your petty human obsession with gender and its associated stereotypes��. Jack Harkness waltzed right onto the screen and the show stopped being any semblance of straight and cis when he did.

If you stopped watching the moment the eighth doctor came back online, then I’ve news for you as well! You’ve still been watching that good ol’ woke propaganda! Romana’s chosen name was ‘Fred’. Ace borderline flirted with Karra and was terrible at it. The Happiness Patrol is confirmed to a response to section 28. The third Doctor did not wear those Chanel boots just for you to accuse NuWho of being ‘woke’.

And if you’re mad that Gatwa is the doctor now, please consider the following:

You have the ideology of the Daleks and you, in fact, make a good dalek. Now, go take your plunger and your whisk to the ninth Doctor so he can deal with you.

[cuddleyhoney]

hello!

hi everyone, I hope you all have been doing well <3. Since I have been m.i.a for quite a while now I thought I'd return with a small December au about Kevin Lomax! :)

reader x Kevin Lomax fluff au

The Sweetest Of Cold Days

On a cold yet sunny morning in New York, it didn't surprise you that your dear husband Kevin came to welcome you with a cup of tea to keep you warm while you were still snuggled into your warm bed.

You were thrilled to still see he was home and not in his office for once. He was still in his cozy gingham pajamas, something many probably didn't expect him to wear. He was comfortable and pleasant with you, not intimidating like he is at work or in the courtroom.

He sat next to you with a hot cup of coffee to warm his vocal cords, something only you'd know. He discussed the morning news with you and did some sudokus. You walked off into your shared bathroom with marble finishing something you'd always dreamt of. You started to shower and start your morning routine.

Kevin began to change into a casual outfit and sneaked out of the apartment the two of you lived in and began to go Christmas shopping for you! He began walking to the nearest shop that made custom trinkets!

Kevin was a very planned-out man he always had nearly everyday thought out and even had multiple calendars to keep track of his decisions and plans. The winter season was one of his favorite seasons knowing he could bundle up in cozy coats and scarves and come home with gifts each day to wrap to give to you and his co-workers.

Whilst you were at home you had finished your shower, began making the bed and lightly cleaning up around the home. You didn't know where Kevin went but you trusted him and knew he wouldn't be gone for too long. You later then began to play some 80s Christmas tunes to get the energy high!

Kevin began walking home with a gift bag and was very cheery on his way home. Waving at complete strangers and filled with joy. You were in the kitchen baking some sweet sugar cookies and the scent filled the whole room. Kevin eventually unlocked the door and walked in with presents. He hurriedly ran into his personal office in the home and locked the door to wrap the gifts himself.

You were spooked but Kevin is always mischievous. Kevin had a special snow globe that had your name engraved in it with a small couple holding hands inside the globe. It was small put had great intention behind it. Along with other things like a Chanel flap bag and a pair of cutesie Ugg boots with bows. He wrapped the gifts all except for the globe he saved as an early present.

He put the other presents under the beautiful Christmas tree and then asked you to sit on the sofa for a surprise.

You didn't know what to expect. Kevin sat next to you with something in his hands. He looked adorable with his nose a little red nose and rosy cheeks.

He handed over the small package, you began to unwrap it. Thrilled to see an adorable snow globe with a couple inside holding hands. It had your initials and his initials engraved with a small heart. He also had a small note aswell; Every time I see something special, I think of you—because you make everything brighter, warmer, and more beautiful. This gift is just a little piece of the love I carry for you every day.

The End.

[cardierreh15]

Knight in Shining Leather

I do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warning 18+: Violence , Cursing , Attempted SA , Blood , Gore .

Pairing: Geralt Of Rivia(modern) x Nessa (Black!Plus Size Female)

Description: Geralt being a knight in shining armor.

Word Count: 2.2K

One shot

It was a beautiful autumn night. The night’s air smelled of cinnamon and pumpkin. With it being just cool enough for her to wear a cardigan over her shoulders. Pretty soon, she would get too warm to even rock it.

It was roughly 9:45pm and she had come from a night out with the girls. Her best friend insisted that she drive her home since she stayed so close by. But Nessa was too hardheaded to let her do that. Besides, the walk wasn’t even 20 minutes away.

But a lot can happen in 20 minutes can it?

Her thick heeled boots clicked loudly on the asphalt, echoing throughout the street and bouncing off of the other buildings. She lived in a small town, so it was no surprise that almost everyone was in the house by now.

Nessa had her hands tucked in her pockets, at this point walking absentmindedly. She didn’t even realize there were two men walking about a few yards behind her. She didn’t think much of it, perhaps they were trying to make it to their destination too.

But their footsteps grew a little impatient.

This caused her to take further strides; holding her purse tightly in her arm as she tried to sneak her hand into it to retrieve her pepper spray.

‘Get her!’ One of the males exclaimed.

A panicked gasp escaped her lips as she did her best to take off but they were close enough to snatch her up by her cardigan. ‘HELP!’ She exclaimed before a man placed his large hand over her mouth and held a butterfly blade against her face. ‘Shhhh, shhh. Now, just be a good girl.’ He whispered against her ear.

She then bit down into his fingers and stepped on his foot. The criminal yelped out in agonizing pain.

‘Fuck you!’ She exclaimed before she was instantly grabbed by another male.

‘Get the bitch into the alley!’

‘No! No! Stop!’ Nessa begged and pleaded as she tried her best to fight back. But they weren’t having it.

They slammed her against the wall and she whimpered out in pain. ‘Urgh!’ She fell to her hands and knees. ‘Please— take whatever I have… it’s all material— I don’t want it! Please.’ She insisted, sobbing as she held her chest.

The bald headed guy began to dump out all of the contents in her purse and searched through it. ‘Awww, the bitch ain’t got nothin’. Lipstick, tampons, some other make up, — a wallet…’ he then looked at her name and then started going through her wallet where he snatched out $500. ‘I found a jackpot…’ then he walked over to the the ginger haired gentleman who towered above her.

‘How much ya find?’

‘$500. And It’s a Chanel wallet, taking that too.’ The male chuckled.

Nessa was on her knees before them as if she were praying to her God. Her hands shook as if her bones were chilling in the Arctic.

‘Nice,’ the ginger chuckled as the bald guy passed him some cash. ‘Now, the question is… what do we do with you?’

‘Hmmm. She’s pretty cute. She’s thicker than the rest of em. And you know I looove when they fight.’ He said as he shoved the wallet and the cash in his back pocket.

She instantly knew what baldy meant, and it caused her to panic a bit more. Until suddenly, the ginger just happened to step out of the way, and the bright LED street light caused a thick shard of glass to glisten in her eye.

Carefully leaning down as the two men bickered about who were going to have their turn with her first, she then grabbed the glass in her hand and waited.

The ginger sighed and rolled his eyes, ‘whatever. Fuck it. I’ll hold her still.’ He then squat down before her, ‘Alright sweet heart, you’re gonna—‘

Nessa instantly swiped the glass upward, aiming to stab him beneath his chin but instead, slicing his cheek.

‘AUGH!’ He practically jumped back; feeling the stinging pain at his cheek. Ginger grabbed the gasp and looked at the bright red blood in his palm. ‘You fucking bitch!’

His partner instantly brought her up to her feet, disarmed her and slapped her across her face so hard, he split the inside of her cheek.

She fell to the ground, her mind spinning as if she had swallowed a whole bottle of tequila. She could only hear the sound of their voices. They were so loud in her ears.

‘Kill that bitch! Kill her!’

She didn’t even know who was saying, all she knew was that she was pretty sure she was going to die in this filthy ass alley. And it would probably take her loved ones days to find her knowing these fools.

The ginger some how had the strength to pull her up to her feet. ‘You fucking— BITCH!’ And he kneed her in the stomach before she fell back down to the ground again. He kicked her, several times in the ribs.

Nessa whimpered out, choking on the air that was fighting so hard to come into her lungs. She lifted her hand up, in a “I surrender” kind of way, ‘please. Stop.’ She was too weak to scream for hell at this point.

‘Stop? Haha… oh wait til we’re done with you… get her up.’ Ginger said to Baldy.

Suddenly, everything felt like it was moving much slower than she was. Between the two antagonists, was a pair of bright golden eyes that reflected in the shadows. She thought she was hallucinating so she just laid there, accepting her fate that was to come.

When Baldy lifted her up to her feet, her head rest back against the brick wall. ‘Come on… make it quick.’ She breathed out tiredly.

Ginger chuckled and then Baldy chimed in. ‘Suit yourself.’

Suddenly, a bright flash whipped through the air like something out of a supernatural movie.

Nessa felt Baldy’s grip on her grow weaker and she noticed a thin line across his neck. A dribble of blood came leaking from his lips and his nose. She then noticed the sunken glare in his eyes.

His neck became a waterfall of his blood and a millisecond later, his head fell to wet the concrete and his body followed.

Nessa felt her stomach turn at the sight. She stumbled backwards in fear; immediately covering her lips to hold back the throw up that tried to fight its way out.

Ginger let out a scream as he saw his buddy’s head roll at his feet.

She felt too damn sick and scared to move really. Also, she couldn’t get over — how could someone be that talented with a blade that:

A.) No blood had spilled on her.

And

B.) None of them were able to see or hear him coming.

Ginger instantly pulled his gun out and walked over towards Nessa. ‘Whose there!? Come out!’ He snatched her up and pointed the gun at her head. ‘Come out! Or I swear to God, I will blow this bitch’s brains out!’

‘Please—‘ she started as she held her hands up.

‘SHUT UP!’ Ginger yelled as he looked all around. ‘Alright,’ he then clicked off the safety, ‘I’ll give you to the count of 3… come out— with your hands up… and I won’t kill her…’

‘Why would you think they’d come out for me?! I-I don’t even know what’s going on!’ She said out as she wiped her bloodied nose.

‘Shut. The fuck. Up. I swear you’re making this so much easier!’ He said as he continued to look around, ‘ONE! …. TWO!….’ He pressed the barrel against the back of her skull.

On three, a white haired male stepped from out of the shadows; those damn golden eyes making an appearance before he did. He wore black leather, and held a huge sword in his right hand. He had a scowl on his face that could kill instantly.

Ginger’s mouth fell slightly as he watched the tall, unearthly being approach the both of them. He stepped back, ‘Y—you… it can’t be. B-BACK UP!’

He just kept walking towards them. The sound of metal clinked with each step.

Ginger had finally hit the wall and Nessa looked back at the both of them.

‘Y—you’re dead! Y-you’re suppose to be dead!’

‘Says who?’ The white haired male asked, ‘You?’ His head fell to the side. Then he looked behind him, noticing the women who still stood there. He then looked back towards Ginger, ‘Go ahead… shoot her.’

Nessa’s eyebrows tugged into one in confusion. She wanted to impose on this reunion but she was hurting too bad to talk.

Ginger’s bottom lip trembled as much as his wrist did when he held that gun.

‘Go ahead…’

Ginger swallowed his spit, glancing over at the beautiful woman. He just didn’t have the guts.

The white haired male let out a sigh, ‘I knew it,’ and stabbed Ginger in his abdomen with the shiny sword.

Ginger began to choke. Wheezing as if he’d punctured his lung.

Nessa let out a harsh gasp and covered her lips in shock.

‘You’re… a coward.’ He twisted the blade to open the gaping wound more, ‘You pray on the weak… women and children… you and your friend don’t deserve to breathe for another second.’

He then snatched out the sword from Ginger’s abdomen and the male fell forward.

Nessa just stood in her spot, watching the man who just tried to kill her moments before, choke on his own blood and eventually took his last breath as the rest of him seeped into the cracks and crannies of the destroyed asphalt.

She was too frightened to scream, to run but also… her body was riddled with pain. Anything extreme would’ve probably caused her to pass out. So instead she asked, ‘A-are you gonna kill me next?’

The being then pulled out a dark cloth and wiped his shiny sword off in one swipe, ‘If I wanted … you’d be dead already.’

Well that was quite evident. She took in a deep breath as she just watched him sheath his sword and bend down to go in Ginger’s pocket.

She peaked over, ‘… he-he said you were suppose to be dead… are you like someone important?’

He didn’t say anything, instead he retrieved her money from the corpse and then ventured to the next.

‘Could I at least— know your name?’ She asked as she began to pick up her purse and the rest of her belongings. ‘You did save me after all, I would like to know who you are… In case I don’t ever see you again.’

He smirked as he grabbed her wallet out of the headless corpse and looked at her ID. She had a glorious smile. A smile that could turn any rainy day into sunshine.

Vanessa Hodge, December 18th, 1997, Address…

He took a mental note of her address before slowly rising to his feet and walked over to her.

She looked from his hands to his chest, that donned a silver necklace with a wolf engraved in it. She wondered what that meant.

‘Here,’ His voice brought her out of her thinking trance, ‘Your things.’ He looked down at her as she rose to her feet and threw her purse over her shoulder.

‘Thank you.’ She said softly before wincing at the pain in her cheek.

He lifted her chin to examine her.

Nessa hissed at the sudden, searing pain.

‘They most certainly did a number on you…’ he said as he looked at her split eyebrow. ‘Come. Let’s get you fixed up.’

‘Alright… only— if you do me a tiny favor?’

‘Hmm.’ A mere stranger, asking him for favors? He wasn’t the type to be handing those out. Especially without pay.

Yeah, she had no idea who he was.

‘You tell me your name…’

Was that it? She wanted to know his name? She almost got taken advantage of, got her shit pushed in and almost got her brains blown out but — she wanted to know his name?

‘I-I think it’s fair… I’d like to know who my knight in … shiny leather is.’

It grew quiet once more before he rested his hand on the handle of his sword and lifted his head with a gentle smirk.

‘I mean I think it’s also fair because you’re still a complete stranger and—‘

‘For someone who is in a lot of pain, you sure do talk a lot.’ He said as he shifted his weight and folded his massive arms across his chest.

Nessa felt the heat rise to her neck, her cheeks and then her ears. She looked off to the side, trying to avoid eye contact for a moment.

God you’re gonna blow this.

‘My name is Geralt. Now, if that is all you request, we should leave now.’

She let out a gentle puff of air and quickly walked towards him, ‘Lead the way.’ She shrugged.

Geralt swiftly turned around and they headed in the direction Nessa was heading.

‘So, you’re gonna tell me what you do and why you walk around with those things?’ She asked; swiping her dainty manicured finger at his silver handle.

‘No.’ He mused

‘And— Please don’t touch the swords.’ He said, hearing the cling that she left behind with her touch.

‘Oh— sorry.’

[blorbocedes]

fernando/guanyu, hero worship, movie star fernando au

Guanyu justifies spending his sizeable allowance on booking a Saturday night private booth at Flavio Briatore's club with: if he wasn't spending it here, he would've been using it to buy Balenciaga to wear to class. Well, he does wear Balenciaga in the halls of UCLA, but still.

Zhou Guanyu would like everyone to know he is not a stalker.

All of this is publicly available information, such as Fernando's jet landing in LA on Friday, and Guanyu's bookmarked gossip boards confirming Fernando and his girlfriend are well and truly over.

And the Michelin star sushi bar Fernando posted on Instagram story that is impossible to get a booking into, and Guanyu had to beg his father's secretary to use his name.

It's just a hobby, LA is full of celebrity sighting.

Guanyu was five when he first saw Fernando, on a Chinese dubbed telenovela playing a young heartthrob. He was instantly a fan. Over the years, he followed Fernando's career diligently watching him break into Hollywood, and then critically acclaimed movies. Those movies taught him English better than the expensive tutors his parents hired. He remembers staying up late to watch the Oscar's, only to go on a very angry rant on Weibo when Fernando was brutally snubbed. He had posters of Fernando on his wall, followed his career even as it careened to a few disappointing cash-grabs the last few years after a successful stint at directing a one man play. Word on the street is Fernando's producer, Flavio, was using his production company for illegal tax writeoffs.

Guanyu waits, sparkling water in hand and a keen eye scanning the floor; the music slightly muted in his private room with an unopened champagne bottle on melting ice, glittering square table and uncomfortable lounge seats. Maybe Fernando isn't coming, maybe Guanyu's in the club all alone. Maybe he can invite Logan and Oscar next time, and opt out of the private booth in case they're uncomfortable with that. He still remembers the look on their face when they found out he has a personal cleaner come to his dorm.

Just as Guanyu was about to call it quits around midnight, a celebrity entourage with the DJ announcing his welcome -- Fernando walked in.

Even after all this time, Guanyu still feels a little starstruck, like the wind knocked out of him. It's not even the first time he's seen him in person, but the feeling is still the same. Fernando is so handsome, and whatever cosmetic work he's done is tasteful, looking older but striking. Guanyu waits at the bar on the upper floor and sneaks glances at Fernando when he can get away with it, watching him hug Flavio.

Fernando seems to catch his eye, and Guanyu looks away fast - fast, ears burning hot. He knows he's well dressed in his Chanel boots, two older ladies try to approach him and he politely declines, and when he turns around this time Fernando is gone from his seat.

Guanyu tries not to feel disappointment. He stares at his melting ice sparkling water.

"You are my favourite type of fan." The Spanish lilt of the voice by his ear makes Guanyu jump, Fernando Alonso right there beside him. "Beautiful, rich, groupie. Makes the experience rewarding for both of us, no?"

Guanyu wants to protest he's not a groupie but he's stuck on the beautiful, a blush rising from his neck, and Fernando is grinning wolfishly at him. This close, Guanyu feels a little dizzy. He can see his pores, like an HD Getty Image. He actually had a 10 step plan of how Fernando would fall in slowburn romance with him eventually after a carefully planned coffee shop meetcute but this was jumping several steps.

"I keep seeing you, and I don't forget pretty face. What's your name?" Fernando's arm goes around Guanyu's shoulder.

"Zhou Guanyu--Joe, my friends here call me Joe."

"Guanyu," Fernando butchers the pronunciation. "Zodiac sign?" He must've picked it up when he starred in Dragon Warrior: Unleashed in Beijing.

"Bunny." Guanyu momentarily forgets the English word for rabbit.

"Ah. Year of the Rabbit. I remember, from my time filming in Beijing. You are old enough, I will buy you a drink."

Guanyu finds himself being led to Fernando's table, legs walking on autopilot, heart throbbing out of his chest.

"Tell me, bunny, have you ever had a flaming whiskey shot?"

Fernando's grin is shark-like, hand on his shoulder sliding down to Guanyu's waist when he shakes his head no, signalling to his private server.

The rest of the night goes like this: Guanyu's lips close around the rim of his glass, and then it closes around the rim of Fernando's cock.

The sex is an out of body experience. Guanyu is going to compare it to Fernando's sex scenes he has bookmarked when he gets home.

"So, what are you, big Mclaren Heroes fan?" Fernando asks after, referencing his most popular movie that most people know him from, mostly because it was also the film that launched 7x Oscar winner Lewis Hamilton onto the scene. Otherwise, Fernando has just been on the film scene forever, but without the huge blockbuster hits. Guanyu actually thinks the first one is a little overrated, and then the decline in quality in the cashgrab sequels years later that never quite caught the charm of the first one.

Guanyu shakes his head. "I loved you in Minardi. I had a poster. I was 5."

"Jesus, don't remind me, kid." Fernando shudders, getting up. "It was a good run."

Guanyu has a million photos saved of it, but Fernando's back tattoo is still immaculate in person stretching from his nape all the way resting above the dimples of his lower back. He remembers when it was freshly inked and Fernando had posted it on his now abandoned Facebook. There's probably things about Fernando that he himself has forgotten that Guanyu remembers.

"You like?"

Guanyu blushes again, caught. He nods. "It's so cool."

Fernando smiles, maybe a real one this whole evening. "You have to be brave in life, like a samurai."

Fernando puts on a robe, heading to the en-suite bathroom.

Guanyu bolts over to where Fernando's phone is, unlocking it: 3314. He saw Fernando type it before, and it opens. Going to the phonebook, Guanyu saves his number as 🌸🪷💖Bunny🌸🪷💖 (Joe from the club) (Minardi fan Zhou Guanyu); before leaving it back where Fernando kept it.

If he were some lowlife stalker he would've called himself to save Fernando's number, but he's not. He hopes the emoji associations remind Fernando of the good times they had.

The next time Guanyu sees Fernando at the club, he's there with Logan and Oscar, who had invited their friends along too so the private perks and the membership card hadn't been awkward at all -- everyone calling him Joe The Man.

Logan, drunk, collapses on his shoulder with an inconspicuous whisper yell over the music. "Is that, that dude from Heroes?"

He locks eyes with Fernando across the dance hall. This time, Guanyu doesn't look away.

His phone buzzes with a text.

[maveys-baby]

If maven wasn’t royalty, just rich… and was a regular kid today, what do you think he would dress like?

OMG I LOVE THIS QUESTIOOONNNN

Being a bisexual male, Maven would obviously have impeccable style *chefs kiss*

I think I've said this before on another blog (if you saw it, no you didn't) but I think he'd very much resemble Landon Barker in both looks and style, maybe minus the tattoos.

Formal: Maven is "different." Bold and adventurous. Still luxurious, but outside the box; not the regular old b&w suit and tie.

Casual: Honestly.. edgy e-boy aesthetic. Tee-shirts and oversized hoodies, maybe jeans. A lot of black.

The man can accessorize. He would LOVE rings, particularly silver. I could see him layering necklaces too.

I could also see him wearing heeled boots every once in a while, a la Timothee Chalamet.

As a rich person, he definitely wears a lot of luxury brands like Cartier, Chanel, Gucci, etc.

He attends Paris Fashion Week fs.

[silkeared]

hey , isn’t that ENDER JACKSON ? i’ve heard that they’ve lived in bearhold for ONE MONTH . rumor has it that they can be rather CONCEITED and BITCHY , but hey , that’s just in their nature as THE PRIMADONNA . they totally make up for it by being PROTECTIVE and RESILIENT . if you’re looking for them , you can probably find them at their work as a PIERCER at ETERNAL INK .

full name ⸻ ENDER LUCETTE JACKSON . nickname(s) ⸻ N/A . age ⸻ TWENTY SIX . gender identity ⸻ CIS WOMAN . orientation ⸻ LESBIAN . pronouns ⸻ SHE/HER . hometown ⸻ LONDON, ENGLAND . current occupation ⸻ PIERCER . species ⸻ HUMAN . faceclaim ⸻ SAVANNAH LEE SMITH . influences ⸻ EURYDICE ( hadestown ) , HEATHER CHANDLER ( heathers ) , CHER HOROWITZ ( clueless ) .

when ender said she dreamed of europe, london wasn’t quite what she had in mind. the dreary mornings, the foggy nights—she ached for croissants for breakfast, wearing berets and red lipstick and smoking outside of café’s. instead, she was born into the jackson family where the most excitement she could have was dropping by selfridge’s to check out the make-up counters. she supposed there was some glamour, in the west end and the parts of town where you could buy bentley’s and BMW’s, but for the most part ender felt stuck. there was more to life, more out there, than smoothing down her curls in the reflection of a store window she couldn’t afford to enter. it was as though her and koda were two sides of the same coin, similar in their features but worlds apart in their views. ender was smart—really smart—and despite her skirts grazing her thighs (a uniform violation, apparently) she scored in the highest brackets for test scores and exam grades. ender was determined not to waste the brain she had been blessed with. academically brainy and self-taught with knowledge, every detail that had entered through one ear had stuck. she was more book smart than street smart, but ender knew how to hold her own in a fight. that was, until they lost their mother. of course it was hard for them both, but a girl needs her mum like lungs need air, like bees need flowers. symbiotic. for the first time in her life, ender started to understand just why koda was such a tearaway. her grades slipped and she deferred her entry to university in order to stay home and take care of the men in her life, a distraught father and a brother who couldn’t cope. and then he disappeared too. one night koda was gone, and it was down to ender to nurse her father’s doubly-broken heart. resentment boiled deep within her; throughout their grief, she had fought to keep her head above water. wasn’t that the job of the eldest, to stand strong, to be the man of the house when their father couldn’t? anger grew, a seething ache. a part of ender wished that koda would come home, the other wondered whether or not he had died—both outcomes filled her with dread, and for five months she remained walking those empty london streets. without her brother or her father to rely on, ender started training as a piercer at the local tattoo parlor and, on weekday nights, put together a formidable quiz team to bring home healthy prize pots (and the occasional bar tab). every night she stared at the bar, hoping that familiar tall figure would waltz in like nothing had happened and order a cheap, heady beer. hearing rumors that her brother had turned up in washington threw her mind into turmoil. ender jackson had always wanted to fly—paris, vienna, dubai—but she had never imagined that she would be packing her chanel boots and booking a one-way flight to the equally dreary, grey bearhold. the moment she touched down, ender realised that she had brought the only sunshine the town had ever seen in her lilac belt, her lime green sunglasses, and the little pink butterfly clips in her braids. by some miracle, the local tattoo parlor had an opening so that she could put her quick-learning to use. for the last month, she has been poking holes in ears and nostrils and . . . all manner of other things, searching local bars in the evenings in a desperate attempt to find the man she lost. when she isn’t working, wandering, or staring at green crushed-velvet couches with dreamy sighs, ender is putting together her ultimate quiz team to keep her finances afloat. she can be found in bars after her shifts, chatting up the bartenders and fluttering her eyelashes (keeping a sickness at bay at the very thought of being seen with a man). there’s something strange about bearhold, something she can’t quite place . . . another mystery to investigate, all in pursuit of her older brother that chose a backwater town over his family.

[atlaslovesedm]

the vigilante did not try to kill an italian man while wearing thigh high leather boots just for pizza tower “fans” to say that no one is gay in pizza tower. don’t worry, mr. lante. i saw your chanel boots.

[heinrichmey]

Man is all calm and serious.

Also he wears what he wears because I hate his original thingy except pants and those chanel boots. I also just forgot his bracelets.

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and To Heal (Part 6)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Martin Ødegaard is late.

Being a teacher, tardiness isn't something you normally tolerate. But when the offender is a tall, fit, blonde, Norwegian man that you have a massive crush on, you guess you can grant him a pass. 

You fiddle with the hem of your glittery gold dress, absently wondering if it's too much. You stared at it on the mannequin in the Chanel window display for what felt like hours before you decided you had to have it. You rationalized your outrageous purchase by saying it was a birthday present to yourself, ignoring the fact that you'd bought a pair of boots and said the same thing the week prior. Looking your best tonight was a non negotiable, and as soon as you tried the dress on you knew you had to have it.

Did you nearly drain your savings to afford it? Yes. Do you care? Not really, when you're positive Martin might lose his head at the sight of you in it.

The gold, half-sheer fabric hugs your body in all the right places. The fitted sleeves stop an inch above your wrist, allowing you to showcase the thin gold tennis bracelet passed down by your mum a few years back. The dress falls to your mid thigh, showing plenty of skin whilst also not causing a scandal among your colleagues. The metallic threads woven throughout catch in the club lights, attracting attention from all corners of the room but not from the man you crave most, because he's still to arrive. 

Half heartedly, you wonder if he's forgotten. Or perhaps the lads invited him out at the last minute and Martin decided that a night drinking with his friends sounded more appealing than hanging around at a teacher’s birthday party. 

Jen presses a drink into your hand, confident as ever in her fitted blue party dress. No matter where you are, she is usually the star of the show, but today you’re somewhat glad she’s turned it down a notch. "Quit staring at the door, live a little. He'll show up and if he doesn't, well then guess what! I'll help you find someone to forget about him." Jen touches your elbow, guiding the glass in your hand to your lips. "Drink! Have fun! Let loose and live for once in your life!"

Without a second thought, you down your drink amidst cheers from your friends, slamming the glass to the table when you've finished it. You make eye contact with Martin when you do, who's just walked in the door looking devilishly handsome as always. 

Martin's blonde hair is perfectly messy, one little strand sticking straight up like he'd nervously fiddled with it outside. He wears a red and black flannel unbuttoned over a plain black shirt, and a pair of skinny jeans that his muscular thighs look set to rip out of at any second. Even his shoes are modest, a simple pair of white high top converse. The only thing about him that screams money is the silver watch on his wrist; without it he may as well be an average London boy out for a night of fun. 

Somehow, he's even more gorgeous dressed like this than when he's wearing all designer or an Arsenal tracksuit. You love his modest appearance, like he'd chosen each piece with you in mind, to ensure he did everything he could to keep the spotlight off himself and firmly on you. It's sweet, as is the way he grins when you wave to him. 

Martin comes over and places a book sized box on the table before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Happy birthday, Sunshine,” he says, the greeting rolling off his tongue as easily as a plain hello. “Sorry I’m late.”

"Thanks," you squeak out, then clear your throat. You're determined to get through this night without embarrassing yourself, so you try a touch of banter and say, "I was beginning to worry you forgot about little old me! Party started at eight and it's now… nearly nine, Mar!"

"Ah yes, sorry I know,” Martin apologizes, and you swear a bit of pink finds it’s way to color his cheeks. “It's just that Atla wouldn't let me leave and I wound up having to bribe her with a new set of paints I had been saving for her birthday to convince her to stop clinging to my leg like a little animal." 

Oh God, how selfish of you! Of course Atla wouldn't want her dad to leave her, especially when she isn't used to him going out except for matches, when he'd be gone for days at a time. It’s perfectly reasonable to assume that he wouldn’t want to leave until he knew Atla was settled. 

"Right, I'm sorry! Of course that's why you're late, I shouldn't have assumed. That’s adorable though, that she loves her daddy so much that she couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving!"

Martin waves a hand, his voice like silk as he says, "Ah please it's alright. I should've messaged you or something. Though I would've had to email you through your school account, which you probably wouldn't have seen anyway, I doubt you check that on nights out."

Maybe it's the fact that you've already had enough to drink that you're feeling slightly buzzed, or maybe it's simply your new confidence in this dress, but you hold out your phone to Martin, a blank contact on the screen. "Put your number in then! I'll message you and you'll have it in the future then."

Looking slightly stunned, Martin takes your phone and types in his number before handing it back. "There you go- this is for you by the way, Sunshine," he says and nods towards the box he brought, a timid smile on his pale lips. 

You run your fingers over the red wrapping paper and fiddle with the loops of the bow in the center. "You can call me by my first name, you know, Martin. I thought we were friends and all that?" 

"Ah, but I like Sunshine better… how about if I call you solskinn instead? Would that be acceptable?" 

This man… you swear he knows exactly how to make you fall head over heels. It doesn't seem like he even realizes what he's doing which is the most mind blowing part- how can someone not realize the effect they have on another person? 

You smile when you realize Martin is waiting patiently for an answer and stutter out, "um- yeah, yes that's fine Mar… I'm gonna wager a guess that it's just Sunshine in Norwegian?" When Martin nods, you feel heat creeping up your cheeks, desperately willing them to not burn too brightly. "Yeah, I like that then Martin, you can call me that."

"Good, because it goes with the gift I got you. Go ahead and open it! I'm excited to see if you like it." Martin shifts a foot closer to you until he's inches away. You aren't sure if you're imagining the heat radiating from him or if it's truly there, either way you don't care. When you turn your head to look up at him before you rip off the paper, you have to crane your neck to see his pretty smile and the impatient glint in his eye. His beauty stuns you for a moment, the alcohol in your veins inhibiting your good sense and whispering that it’s a perfectly fine idea for you to stare at him a touch longer than you probably should. 

Jen's sharp elbow to your side brings you back to reality as your best friend saves you for the first time that night. You smile awkwardly at Martin then tear into his gift, gasping when you see the brand embossed in the white box.

"Chanel? Martin what did you do?! I can't accept this-" without opening the lid, you try shoving it towards Martin. Whatever it is, you know it isn't cheap. Martin shouldn't be dropping hundreds of pounds on you when he has Atla at home. 

"Honestly solskinn please, just open it," he murmurs, sliding it towards you again. His hand finds a place between your shoulder blades as he leans in to be heard over the music, "It's customized so I am not allowed to return it anyway. Trust me I can afford it! Please just open it and see. If you truly hate it, I'll pawn it off to one of the lads' girlfriends or something."

Ah, right. It can't be anything too personal then. Hopefully it's something small, though knowing Martin and that look on his face, it's the exact opposite. Taking a deep breath, you place one hand on either side of the box and bring it in front of you. You aren’t sure why you’re so nervous to see what he’s picked out, but something tells you that everything is about to change. 

You pull at the lid, wiggling it free. You're acutely aware of Jen's eyes burrowing into your skull as you peel back the white tissue paper, Martin's hand burning a brand into your skin through the material of your dress. "I hope you like it," he murmurs as you pull out a small, white leather crossbody bag with a tiny sun emblazoned above the clasp. You run your fingers over the gold chain strap and the embossed decoration, not having any idea what to say.

Martin fiddles nervously on your left. Your back suddenly grows cold when he removes his hand, raking his fingers through his hair instead. You're stuck staring at his gift, awestruck by the thought he's put into it as much as its price tag. 

"Uhh… do you like it? If you don't just tell me-"

"I love it," you interrupt, eyes wide when you turn to him. "Honestly Martin it's perfect- thank you so much!"

Without thinking, you throw your arms around Martin's neck for a bone crushing hug. Every muscle in his body goes rigid for a split second, like he's warring with himself. Then his arms engulf you and you nearly sigh when you’re slotted into the perfect fit of his embrace. He's warm and soft in all the right places. Calm- that's how you feel in the moment, as if a hug from Martin is all you needed to erase your frantic thoughts and worries. 

"You're welcome," he says into your hair, so quietly that you nearly miss it. You want to cling to him for the entire night, but you force yourself to release him after a few more precious seconds. 

“I really do love it, Mar. It’s such a thoughtful gift.” You allow yourself to touch your fingers to the back of his hand, trying to encourage him to let loose and be himself. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t, I thought maybe it was a bit too much. I wasn’t sure on the color either, I had no idea there was so many choices for things!” You laugh, imagining Martin looking like a lost child in the store until someone took pity and offered him help. “The salesperson was really helpful though, she said white was classic and that you’d probably like gold cause most people choose that with this bag and… and I’ve gone off on a tangent, haven’t I?”

You tip your head to the side, studying Martin as you say, “have you? I didn’t really notice to be honest. I don’t mind listening to you chat. Really, I’m a good listener, I’m used to toddlers telling me the most mundane details.”

“Ha- yeah I suppose that must be true, Atla always wants to tell me every little detail on our way home, right down to what colors she painted the trees with in art that day.” When Martin speaks about his daughter, his entire face lights up. You can tell how much he cares for her, how immense his pride is for his little art prodigy. 

If you had it your way, you'd stay here chatting to Martin all night. You have books full of questions to ask him, things you want to know about his life, his passions, his family, his culture… but your friends apparently have other plans. 

"Haaaapy biiiirthday to you!" 

You internally groan, spinning on your heel and being greeted with a round cake overflowing with candles. 

"Haaapy birthdaaaay to youu!"

Jen grins, stepping into your personal space and forcing you back a step, causing you to knock into Martin to avoid getting a face full of burning birthday cake. Martin's hand shoots out to your waist, steadying you. You're focused entirely on his touch whilst your friends finish their song. It takes an enormous amount of willpower to pay attention and keep a grin plastered on your face to cover the way Martin's hand makes you want to scream. It doesn't move until you lean forward to blow out the candles and everyone claps, Jen giving you a look that tells you she's set her master plan into motion. 

After you've cut and divided out the cake, you finally find your way over to Martin. He stands mostly alone, for once flying under the radar in an establishment full of uni students and young adults that couldn't care less about a football player amongst them. He leans with one arm on a high table whilst he chats to one of the people you'd invited. Martin does a double take as you approach, swaying your hips slightly while he quickly wraps up his conversation. 

"Do you want any cake? Or does your strict diet not allow for any fun, sugary foods?"

Martin laughs, a musical, magic sound that you instantly want to bottle so you can hear it whenever you please. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm not allowed to have any cake tonight. I am about to get a drink though, would you like anything?" 

"Mmm, seems a bit backwards if you ask me, but alright I'll buy it. I'll have whatever you're having? And I'll come with you." You add the lastbit on impulse, glad you did when Martin's face lights up. 

You follow Martin through the crowd, grabbing his flannel at one point to avoid being separated in the sea of people. Martin slows his pace when he realizes you're struggling, then reaches a hand towards you for you to take. 

Time seems to slow to the point of molasses around you when your hand slots into his. You swear a jolt of electricity sings through you when your palm slides against his calloused one, fitting perfectly together like a matched pair. He guides you through the crowd with ease, like this somehow isn’t giving him the same butterflies as it’s giving you. 

Is Martin doing this on purpose? Does he realize the effect he has on you, or is it simply a coincidence that everything he's doing tonight sets your heart on fire? You don't care either way, you just pray it's not a one time thing. 

Martin hesitates at the bar and you get the feeling he doesn't want to let go. You open your mouth to tell him he doesn't have to but you're far too slow, and he drops your hand before you can get a word out. A stone of disappointment settles in your gut as you fold your empty hands in front of you. 

Martin orders two of a drink you've not heard of before. Whatever it is seems fancy because it takes ages, which you're very aware of thanks to the silence that stretches between you. Martin's mood has changed in the time it's taken to get from the table to the bar and you have no idea why. You hate it, you want the Martin from five minutes ago. You want the Martin that hugged you and was soft as downy clouds, not this steely, closed off version of him.

When the drinks come, Martin slides one your way and says, “If you don’t like it, I can get you something else.” Fruity bursts cover the slight burn of alcohol when you take a sip. The drink goes down easy, and before you realize it you’ve finished half. You grin, setting your glass on the bar. 

“It’s good! I like it, you’ll have to tell me what it is so I can order it more often. Although I have to admit, I took you for a straight whisky kinda guy.” Your shoulder bumps Martin’s in an attempt to loosen him up. It works at least slightly; some of the tension drains from him. That light you love dances in his eyes again, the blue of his irises even brighter somehow.

Hold on- love? No, no. You don’t love anything about Martin… You can’t, he’s your student’s father, but… what an amazing father he is. You’ve not met a man like Martin, who balances such a demanding job with being the perfect father. Atla loves him so much and you would have to be blind not to see how much he loves her as well. His world revolves around his blue eyed, blonde haired, outgoing little girl. 

And that is precisely why you’re falling for him. It isn’t slow anymore. It’s more like a plane crash, sending you into a helpless, tumbling free fall that has you toppling arse over teakettle. There’s no denying it anymore. You may as well admit it. 

Taking a deep breath, you gather every bit of courage you possess. “Martin- can I ask you something?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. Your thoughts are treason. You don’t care. You’ll pay whatever price the universe demands to know the answer to the question that has been plaguing you for ages. 

Martin glances over at you, runs a strong hand through his hair. He cheats his body towards you, elbow bent as he leans on the bar and says, “um, yeah sure. What is it?”

You barrel ahead before you can change your mind. “I just- would you wanna go out some time? Like, as… as maybe more than friends?”

At first, Martin looks like he might laugh, as if he thinks you’re joking. His cute little dimples come out to play for only a second. Then his expression morphs into disbelief, then something almost like disgust as it dawns on him that you’re completely serious. 

You hate yourself. You hate him. No, you don’t. You just wish you could erase your words, pull them back and keep them locked up deep inside your heart where they belong. You’ve let yourself be vulnerable for the first time in as long as you can remember, and now that decision will haunt you. 

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that,” Martin says, taking a step back, one hand pressed hard to the center of his chest. “Sorry but I- I have to go.”

“What?” Your stomach sinks to your feet. Fuck, you’ve really messed it all up. “Martin, wait, you don’t have to go.” Your hand shoots out for his wrist, but the second your fingers brush his skin, he jerks his arm away like you’ve shocked him. “Martin I’m sorry, just forget I said anything. I’m half drunk and I don’t have a filter.”

Your world crumbles at your feet as Martin shakes his head. He’s like a spooked animal, set to flee thanks to your admission. “I have to go,” he repeats, before turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door. He leaves you at the bar, shellshocked and alone, trying to process what’s just happened.

Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?

[the-busy-ghost]

Currently wading through the 'Speculum Duorum' by Gerald of Wales for uni which is basically a lengthy call-out post for his feckless nephew.

I would recommend reading if you're interested in 150+ pages of mediaeval whingeing interspersed with biblical quotations but frankly this is not Gerry at his best so I would advise sticking to the Descriptio Cambriae or De Instructione Principis.

However I do want to single out at least two of his comments about William de Capella (the feckless nephew's tutor and, according to your man Gerald- who totally isn't sore about it- a Rotter and a Bounder and a Cad of the Lowest Order) because they're kind of petty even by the standards of this text:

(Insert 'Are you wearing the chanel boots' meme here)

(Not the gumdrop buttons Lombard sword!)

[summercreolefanfictioner]

final part of @secretarykang's ask since gil already has drunk hcs

gilbert feinze fashion headcanons

this man is a walking fashion icon tho like srsly he looks like someone who poses for the chanel magazine

gil actually knows what style fits him and the colors that would suit him so his servants are adamant on ensuring his wardrobe is top notch as possible

in fact, there's a time when gil punished some of them for handing him clothes that are too itchy he had to struggle during meetings with other clans (he just didn't feed them blood for like uhh one week which is torture in itself)

his color palette revolves on autumn browns and nudes? he's basically like a walking maple leaf at this point

he recently found out black items don't suit him as much as people make it out to be tho he wears black mostly when he is going to war conferences

most of gil's clothes in the demon world have victorian-esque with dark academia touch to it since he's the head of the feinze clan and he has to look like royalty so he assumes the post

he's more on long coats, white dress shirts with long sleeves, dark trousers, brown boots, and ofc attention to detail like silver link cuffs and piercings (yes he never forgets his piercings)

another item that he never lives without is his wedding ring since it's the only thing he got from giselle

also carries around a golden pocket watch that he exclusively got from karlheinz (so he would know if he reversed time and did some sht he needed to cover up)

tbh gil thought of doing like a tongue and nose piercing but he just went "I don't want them anymore" bcos he found out that he would experience talking like a baby and looking like a cow

btw he owns a lot of ruby jewelry bcos they remind him of blood (after all he stopped drinking blood ever since giselle died)

when he lived in paris, he would opt for trench coats and suits that would emphasize his frame (and he realized girls really dig him in suits bcos he be walking on the streets and they just come to him bcos he looks so good)

but when he resided in japan, he believed in kimono supremacy

like what suit? he'd rather wear kimonos since they're more comfy and the sleeves are loose and he can move and about

and yes, the color palettes would vary... kinda leaning more on the warm orange and red tones. but tbh gil had a hard time looking for the perfect kimonos and yukatas that would fit him

that was until he found out abt this manga called xxxHOLIC and he got all his kimono inspirations from watanuki kimihiro (aka main character of said manga)

one might think he's a cosplaying adult especially when he walks around in kaminashi 😭😭😭

for his footwear, he owns a lot of shoes (like he doesn't only settle for the classics) but one thing he doesn't wear that much are sneakers??? and it has something to do with his adult image like basically this guy makes sure he looks adult

even said one time, "at least I don't go to Ryoutei and pretend like I'm some kind of teenage transfer student" isthisshinandcarla

he mostly wears derby and oxford dress shoes since they are easier to pair with most of his suits. but when he's wearing a kiono, he would either go for a simple geta pair or his classic black brogue boots

ofc gil is not complete without perfumes bcos this guy owns a lot since he has lived for a long time. while there are tons of perfumes that's been out in the market, he always deviates towards chanel no 5 (aka one of the most hated perfumes by many)

and yes, he knew what the original chanel no 5 smelled like, hence he found the newer ones so different than what it smelled before

it's actually frustrating how gil can pull off this perfume and smell good even tho many people say it smells like an old grandma soap

he even bought the accompanying soap and lotion like anything chanel no 5 he has (even the giant bottle)

one time devyn passed by his office and she told him he really smelled so good like wood and tea and clean soap and when she asked his perfume, gil casually pulled out the bottle much to her own horror

"Are you kidding me? That famous Chanel no. 5 is your perfume?"

"I'm not. Why are you making a face like that?"

fun fact: chanel no 5 is also giselle's perfume

[myungodlyhour]

MET GALA 2023

As of now, My top 3 of the night were (in no particular order):

Halle Bailey

Lily James

Cardi (both looks, but the pink was fabulous)

Honorable mention:

Viola Davis (me and my momma almost cried, she looked like a Barbie)

Elle Fanning - literally the more I keep staring at her photos the more obsessed I become wit her outfit. She might become a favorite in two days honestly

Janelle Monae - the thome brown coat was fantastic and interesting take on the theme to me. And just points alone for the Chanel swimsuit, I wasn’t expecting that

Rihanna - (I actually preferred her look with the vintage fendi fur coat leaving the hotel than the white dress, but I still loved the “headpiece”)

Jenna Ortega - like Janelle’s coat, very interesting interpretation of theme

Special mention:

Doja Cat - the face prosthetic was so cool (I wish they did a better job of blending it in though with her makeup, and her dress was too big)

My mom’s favorite:

Dua Lipa, she said Dua was really pretty and looked like Snow White

Worst Dressed

Irina Shayk - girl please

Kylie Jenner - ……..

Jack Harlow - why was he even there

Ice Spice - I honestly think she was just there bc she’s popular right now, I’m not mad, get your exposure, but it didn’t even seem like she tried. Maybe she proves me wrong one day, but I don’t see her becoming someone we get excited for fashion wise

Mary J blidge - sorry auntie, but you’ve got to let those thigh high boots go. You can’t wear them everywhere

Margot Robbie - mainly just disappointed. You were literally a Chanel ambassador and they put you in that?! YOU ARE LITERALLY PLAYING BARBIE IN THEY PUT YOU IN THAT??????!!!!!! Her team hates her, I swear they do

Cara Delevingne - Honoring his shirt? Really? And those leggings I think they were, really? YOU WERE HIS MUSE!!! Come on

WTF Moment:

Lil Naz X - he’s so unserious

The Cat aka “Jared Leto” - I can’t

Overall :

This year’s MET was really good honestly, and I think the reason people stayed on theme is because most of the people there worked with Karl , and they could easily pull vintage or current looks from Fendi, Chloe, and especially Chanel. But I really liked that a lot of people actually were dressed in other designers instead of just wearing one of those three brands cus that could have been TOO easy (though I think they needed an easy one cus they’ve been struggling)

I still hate that she decided to honor that man

The carpet was horrible and looked like toothpaste was spread across the carpet

And horrible was Anna’s outfit too