#smashing the champagne bottle on the blog

[g3tj1nxed]

🧡 continued from here | @umbane

Jinx swivels in the captain’s chair as the holoscreen comes to life, doing nothing to hide the grin that spreads across her lips the second she hears Kayn’s voice. Hook, line, and sinker; she really should have done this earlier if it got this quick of a response. She’ll pat herself on the back later though, there’s a dreamboat on the line and she’s trying to milk her stunt to the last drop. She spreads her arms wide with a quick ‘Ta-dah!’ before leaning her head on one arm, crinkling her nose as he begins to chastise her.

“I’m not makin’ a fool outta anyone!” comes her gleeful retort, the cat-like smile barely faltering even as Kayn hurls the threat at her. Jinx isn’t known for her self-preservation, doesn’t have an ounce of that in her body because, really, where’s the fun in that? This is no different, and it’s evident with how she talks back to the literal Emperor of the Universe. 

“Maaaaybe someone should lock up their toys a little better, ya ever think about that?” She emphasizes her point by looking thoughtful, chin resting between her thumb and forefinger. All before she throws herself back against the chair with a giggle fit. She gestures with her hand, waving her wrist dramatically. “I’ll say it was pretty easy sneakin’ off with this, but I’m gonna just think they let me take it cause I’m just soooo cute.” Punctuates her statement with a wink, her tongue peeking past her lips playfully.

And while she wasn’t entirely fibbing, the alarm she caused in the docking bay was quite the show. And she’s known for her theatrics, something her own captain tends to turn his nose up at on occasion for just how… perfectly destructive they can be. But again, sneaking around and hot wiring a cruiser was light work, no pizzazz or nothin’! So she strutted in like she owned the place and caused a ruckus but that wasn’t something a few plasma blasts couldn’t fix before she took off with the damn thing. She blows a bit of her hair out of her face then, idly swinging the chair side to side with one leg on the tiled floor beneath it.

“You really know how to get a gal goin’, at least buy me dinner first before we get to threatening me with a good time,” she rolls her eyes, but is back to eyeing him smugly on the comms. “Anyways, let’s make this a game like ya said. What do you wanna do? Play tag? Hide and go seek? C’mon I know you got some good ideas in that head of yours.”

[whom-to-kill-whom-to-let-live]

*smashes bottle of champagne on this blog*

Ok so now that its been inaugurated properly I’m going to immediately start this blog off by saying that Legato is the best character in Trigun and I am going to die on this hill

[hazardandtheskypirates]

Well, this blog is a thing now.

*smashes a champagne bottle on my protagonist's head*

[muramasaofprophecy]

smashes a champagne bottle on the side of this blog because it is ready to SAIL

[ichristentheerompecabezas]

Blog Name Explanation

I christen thee is what's said when naming a ship before you smash the champagne bottle against it. Rompecabezas is the word for puzzle in Spanish.

[dippersguidetotheunexplained]

“all the gravity falls townsfolk act strange/stupid/quirky because theyre being subjected to experimental memory erasing technology thats slowly giving them all brain damage” is one of the most underrated twists in the whole show tbh. like what the fuck

[pasunepipette]

Hearing my mom give a lecture over Bb collaborate about the ancient Greek number system in the background while I try to listen to a pre-recorded lecture about the evolution of new genes is how I’m doing, thanks

[kashshai-blog]

The most common feature of tales involving Koshchei [kashshai] is his spell of protection against being killed - he has hid his soul inside nested objects, usually in a needle, which is in an egg, which thereon is contained in further creatures and places - such as the egg being in a duck, which attempts to fly off if anyone tries to capture it.

new, ind. val/entina romanyszyn - gen:Lock - preserved by ash/a 

[lyralit]

ꜰɪꜰᴛʏ ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡɪᴘ

a modern-day city: flashy signs, culture, people

a countryside town: farms, markets, fresh air

a school: students, uniforms, classes

a small house: shared rooms, large meals, family games

a large house: empty halls, quiet nights, loneliness

a swim meet: slick floors, loud whistles, team cheers

a workplace: offices, papers, chaos

a blog: curated posts, a careful eye, also chaos

a government facility: taps of shoes, brisk orders, sharpness

a farm: fields and haystacks, ladders, checkered tablecloths

a ship: the sunset on water, crashing waves, sliding cutlery

a ball: swishing gowns, champagne flutes, lilting music

a club: the press of bodies, pounding music, hoarse voices

a kid's party: a character appearance, ice-cream cake, colourful balloons and stacks of presents

a medieval castle: rich silks, red wine, bustling people

a cottage in the woods: soft birdsong, quiet chores, open lake

a space station: dark abyss, beeping machines, emptiness

a superhero facility: training grunts, advanced tech, posters

a football game: spotlights, cheers, divided colours

a movie theatre: quiet giggles, spilled popcorn, sticky hands

a tennis match: bonk, bonk, bonk

a dingy basement: a lighter, a coil of rope, a can of oil

a restaurant (customer): close tables, quiet chatter, That One Screaming Kid

a restaurant (worker): stacking orders, clinking coins, greasy floors

a flower shop: cloying sweetness, dampness, the crinkle of plastic

a grocery store: the squeal of cart wheels, scrape of boxes, crackle of the announcements

a witch hut: bubbling cauldron, bright potions in round bottles, funky jars of ingredients

a bakery: fresh bread, tinkling bells, morning sun

a ruin: dust, beating sun, crumbling rock

a wedding: smashed cake, white lace, cheers

a cliff: crashing waves, swaying reeds, sharp rocks

a concert: nicest clothes, gilded halls, the sound of music

a bank vault: beeping alarms, flashing lights, piles of coins

a sauna: slick tiles, misted mirrors, stifling air

a mine: scuttling rocks, the clank of picks, cool breeze

a cruise ship: bouncy music, sound of laughter, ocean wind

a diner: neon lights, booths, milkshakes with a straw and cherry

a garden: soft breeze, shifting leaves, green flowers

a graveyard: crunch of stones, eerie lighting, the whisper of trees

a house party: clink of glasses, soft voices, flowery perfume

a family dinner: roaring laughter, grabby children, sense of warmth

a foreign planet: rising smoke, hissing steps, green faces

a prison: scratches on walls, thumps of boots, creaking of cots

a jungle: cry of birds, rustling of trees, patter of rain

a gaming room: click of keyboards, flash of lights, scroll of mouses

a forest: howl of wolves, whistle of wind, crunch of underbrush

a waiting room: tick of the clock, tapping of feet, flip of magazines

a lounge: jazzy music, gilded mirrors, plush chairs

a sporting event: cheering crowds, bags of snacks, flashing videos

a fantasyland: roar of dragons, clank of metal armour, thump of horse hooves

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Miss Raven! Happy one year to you and your blog! May I request some wedding headcanons with Azul and Jamil with a fem reader please? Thank you! 🧡

I also wrote these Azul x merperson S/O wedding headcanons if you’d like to read those~

***Mild spoilers for the Scalding Sands Fireworks event!***

I do.

The venue is to be on the beach, where the shore and the sea meet. It’ll be hot, so you take care to order tents to keep seating cool, and warn the guests to come in appropriate footwear. (You opt to go for strappy sandals yourself to make it easier to walk around in your wedding attire.)

Speaking of guests, there’s a mix of humans and nonhumans, namely merfolk, at the ceremony. Whereas the human guests happily wander on the golden sands, the merfolk guests splash around in the water. It’s a union of land and sea, a reflection of your perfect partnership with Azul.

Just because the wedding is outside doesn’t mean it can’t still be classy! The décor is mostly white, with lavender accents, pearl beading, and water lilies and colorful coral centerpieces. (Azul spent a long time meticulously combing through wedding catalogues to find the ideal silverware to pair with your decorations!)

There’s a large variety of food at the wedding, but of course, your husband-to-be makes a beeline for the fried stuff. It’s a special day, so he figures why not indulge? You join him to feast, offering to hand feed him a piece of fried chicken or a bit of cake every so often--which Azul graciously accepts with a bit of a blush.

You were originally going to hire an orchestra, but Idia ends up being all the music you need. (”He’s free and convenient,” as Azul had described him. “Not to mention he owes me, and the time has come to collect.”) With DJ Shroud running the dance floor, there’s a mix of classic and modern music sure to satisfy guests from all walks of life.

The weather’s so nice on your special day, so you take advantage of that for pictures! You can walk along the shoreline and perch on the pier, or even leave messages in the sand with sticks or your own feet and hands. Azul’s very shy and hesitant about having his picture taken at first, so it takes some encouragement on your end before he becomes more comfortable around the lens. As long as he’s focusing on you, he’s never nervous, and his smile doesn’t fade.

When the time comes to toss your wedding bouquet, you and Azul instead write your vows out on slips of paper, then place them in a bottle and cork it. The message in a bottle is set into the sea, with the hope of one day blessing its discoverer with true love.

The ceremony concludes with you and Azul riding off into the sunset on a lavishly decorated ship. Your guests see you off with smiles and waves--and with the smashing of a champagne bottle against the vessel (the twins’ idea, not yours or Azul’s) your voyage to newlywed life begins. 

The wedding is to held in the heart of Silk City, in Asim Park. Of course, you’ve got Kalim’s full support and financial backing for the event! He’s so excited to attend his best friend’s wedding that he waives the entire rental fee for the venue for you. (Yay, money saved to go toward an extravagant honeymoon vacation!)

Being the worrywart and the overachiever that he is, Jamil originally attempts to arrange the entire wedding by himself. He’s used to this work thanks to Kalim’s constant parties, but it soon becomes apparent that a wedding is too big for even Jamil to handle alone. You intervene to remind your husband-to-be that this should be a team effort. Then, and only then, does he finally relent and invite you to assist.

The wedding pays homage to the customs of the Scalding Sands, with an extravagant twist (thanks to funding from Kalim). There are traditional instruments and foods, plus swathes of fabric and jeweled decorations abound. Your garb is just as bejeweled and flowy, with a sparkling headdress, fine slippers, and jewelry hanging off of your neck and limbs.

Jamil is obligated to invite Kalim and appoint him as the best man and ring bearer (much to his own chagrin). Kalim ends up crying while giving a speech about his friend, which makes Jamil want to disappear into the ground. Meanwhile, Najma is one of the bridesmaids, and excitedly helps you do your hair and makeup for the ceremony. (By comparison, she and Jamil bicker as they’re preparing.)

The centerpieces feature jasmine and desert roses--though Asim Park boasts so many flowers that the entire wedding smells lovely anyway. While you’re going around and greeting guests, Jamil picks a jasmine flower and tucks it behind one ear. “As pure and as graceful as you are,” he murmurs, a sly smile on his lips.

Most of the guests are standing or walking around the park. Kids enjoy running their hands around or playing near the peacock fountain, while the older folk like admiring the plants. But most importantly, people love tearing up the big dance floor! Jamil joins in himself, putting on a stellar break dancing performance in spite of his suit. It’s rare to see him so loose, so free--it puts a smile on your face. He catches you staring and grins, tugging you by the wrist to join him in the next dance.

Instead of doves, parrots are released into the sky. You and Jamil open up their cages and set them free together--and as the parrots escape and fly away, you watch them, hand in hand, wishing them the same happiness as what you’re experiencing today.

As the night draws to a close, you and your new husband board a magic carpet. You still hear Kalim sobbing happily as you take off-- Fireworks light up the sky as you delve into the diamond-dusted evening, promising a bright and colorful future for you both.

[vvelvetvelvet]

smashes val against the side of this blog like a bottle of champagne

?good? to be back

[mandoalorian]

Champagne Problems [Frankie Morales x Reader]

Summary: Sitting on the night train, Frankie reminisces on the time he proposed to you, his high school sweetheart. You were so sure that this was all you ever wanted. But as it turned out, you had more on your plate than you initially bargained for, and things don’t go as well as Frankie could’ve hoped.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 1600>

Warnings: allusions to death, mention of substance abuse, addiction, relapse, allusions to depression, cigarettes mention, self induced injury, food mention, alcohol mention.

Author’s Note: BASED HEAVILY ON THE SONG ‘Champagne Problems’ by Taylor Swift. Please please give this song a listen either before or after you read this. It is so beautiful.

Masterlist

Frankie booked the night train for a reason. He couldn’t stay in town anymore, knowing that you were still there. He had no place to go, but that was the least of his concerns. Embarrassed and humiliated, all Frankie wanted was to sit and drown in all his hurt. As he paid for the ticket, he considered how the train might look. Bustling crowds or silent sleepers? He wasn’t sure which was worse. So long as he was without you, he was alone and without purpose.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The living room was burning in amber candlelight, the faint smell of figgy pudding cooking in the distance was so distinct, and the crackling of the record player when the vinyl needed flipped was enough noise to give Frankie nightmares for the rest of his life. You and Frankie were the last ones dancing, your feet shuffling against his mom’s old carpet as you gazed longingly into his eyes.

When he got down on one knee and asked you to marry him, in front of his entire family, you wanted to say yes. So desperately, in your heart, you were certain that you wanted to marry Frankie Morales. And so, in that moment, you weren’t quite sure why the word “no” fell from your lips. Like every word you had ever spoken, the rejection was sweet like honey, and somehow, that only made the cut sting more.

Frankie’s face softened and he looked down at his feet as his cheeks burned pink with shame. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. How could you do this to him? Frankie made the mistake of scoping out the room, taking in the appearance of his family members who sat there with their jaws agape, watching the heartbreaking scene unravel before them like some kind of movie. You hadn’t meant to hurt him like this. You would never mean to hurt him. You loved him.

And so, Frankie shoved the small velvet box back into his jean pocket and didn’t speak another word. He continued to slow dance with you until the song ended. The melody was tainted now, and you tried your hardest to fight back your tears. Somehow, you knew, this would be your last dance with Frankie. You wish you could find the words to make things right. Would an apology be enough? For a brief moment, you and Frankie looked into each other's eyes and you still felt that familiar love… until, on impulse, you made the decision to drop his hands and run away. You left him standing there, crestfallen, in front of his entire family.

Sitting on the train, he gazed out the window. Pearly white snowflakes fluttered past him and they reminded him of your gentle nature and delicacy. Your picture burned a hole in his wallet, and his mom’s wedding ring weighed down his pocket. Frankie’s heart was like glass, fragile, and you had so carelessly dropped it.

Frankie had told his family on Christmas Eve when he thought you were tucked up in the warmth of his bed, fast asleep. The excitement was bubbling within him and he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. He had told them of his plan to marry you. But his delight was short-lived when he acknowledged the concern that crossed their faces. You were Frankie’s only ever love; his highschool sweetheart, but they knew you were a ticking time bomb. You were about as self-destructive as they came.

The Morales’ had known you long enough to recognise your history of mental illness; although they didn’t take the liberty to understand it. You hadn’t had the easiest of lives, but neither had Frankie. You had grown up with them. Whether they liked you or not, they were your family.

Between the pile of ash and the burned out cigarettes that cluttered every surface of his childhood bedroom, you felt yourself slipping into relapse. You weren’t sleeping like he thought you were. When the panic swelled into your lungs, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your mind was racing, your sobs were hysterical, and you were smashing up the cheap beer bottles so the glass cut your fingers. You desperately searched for a quick and easy way out. For once, you just wanted to feel something.

Frankie was the love of your life. He deserved to know about your struggles. You knew that, deep down, he would want to know. He would want to help you. Frankie was so caring, holding your hand through every battle you ever fought. But he wasn’t without scars either. He’d finally recovered from his own problem with addiction, and you had promised him that you were getting better too. You didn’t need to drag him down when he was doing so well.

That’s the thing. You were so sure you were getting better. With Frankie having retired from the force, he was by your side every second of the day, and you had truly never been happier. But any person who suffers with mental illness will tell you that Christmas is the hardest time of the year. In fact, you were surprised to see him coping so well, not knowing that the thought of marrying you was the only thing getting him through the season.

You couldn’t enjoy yourself. The thought of eating all the delicious foods that Mrs Morales had prepared made you feel sick to your stomach, and it would be so easy to mess up and have one too many glasses of wine before you were spiralling again.

The night of the proposal, Frankie’s brother, Abel, had splashed out on the finest bottle of Don Périgon.

But nobody was celebrating.

Not even bothering to wrap up warm, you had left for good, into the darkness of the woods behind the Morales family home. The cold of the winter night stung every inch of your bare body, and the ice slipped through your shoes as you trenched through the thick white snow.

The memory replayed in your mind over and over again, tears free-falling down your face at this point. Your sobs echoed through the bare trees and as you crossed the frozen lake, you made no effort to be careful. This was your fate.

As Frankie sat on the train, contemplating his rejection, he couldn’t help but let out a deflated chuckle. He felt pathetic.

He had a whole speech planned out; about how he knew that you were the one for him the day he met you. It was sophomore year of high school and you and your friends were hanging out by his Chevy truck. Your cheeks were flushed with the colour of November and you were wearing a brown and blue flannel shirt that dropped down to your knees. It was identical to his.

By the time college rolled around, you had already been dating for a year, and had decided to move in together.

“This dorm was once a madhouse.” Frankie exclaimed incredulously, his dark eyes going comically wide as he read the pamphlet that had been presented to him by the university landlord.

You joked with a half smile and tugged on his arm. “Well it’s made for me.” With the jangle of the keys, you both entered your first ever home together — a shanty little apartment located in the corner of campus. Little did you know, those four walls were where you’d really begin to lose your mind. Nevertheless, those were his memories of you, and he wouldn’t change them for the world.

Frankie considered yours and his friendship group in college ‘evergreen’; a symbol of perfection, but now he didn’t think he’d ever say that word again. In a life without you, no such beauty could exist.

He had a speech, now he’s speechless. His love slipped beyond your reaches, and you couldn’t even give him a reason. His hometown skeptics called it champagne problems. It was a glamourised reference to your addiction.

As you walked over the lake, you didn’t even notice the way the ice slowly began to crack beneath your feet. Your thoughts were too loud as you tried your hardest to justify your actions. Maybe you just weren’t cut out for marriage. Sometimes you just don’t know the answer until someone’s on their knees and asks you.

Not long after you had run off, Frankie broke down in front of his family. His parents and siblings surrounded him, shushing him and holding him tight. In a desperate attempt to comfort him, they put you down, making it out as if he deserved better.

Frankie didn’t know if he deserved better. All he knew was that he wanted you.

“She would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head,” they said. “but you’ll find the real thing instead.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the ice finally shattered, you were already completely numb. Blue lips and snowflakes balancing on your eyelashes — and yet all you could think about was your Frankie. You were sure that he’d move on eventually, he had to. He deserved happiness. If you could have it your way, you’d apologise for wasting his time all these years.

As your body sunk into the depths of the river, you could only hope that he’d eventually forget about your champagne problems.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie ​ @stardust-galaxies ​ @wickedfrsgrl ​ @goth-topic ​ @nerdypinupcrystal ​ @wonderfulfluffer ​ @kiwi-the-first ​ @pedroepascal ​ @castiel-barnes ​ @honeymandos ​ @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot ​ @dybalalover10 ​ @girl-obsessed-with-things ​ @elena-myth ​ @moth-guillotine ​ @pedro-pascal-love ​ @hayley-the-comet ​ @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya ​ @autumnleaves1991-blog ​ @artsymaddie ​ @harrys-stan ​ @kennedywxlsh ​ @cripplingmoon ​ @cheekygeek05 ​ @mrschiltoncat ​ @rye-flower ​ @theamuz @persie33 ​ @sleepylunarwolf ​ @martellthemandalor ​ @pedro-pastel ​ @steeevienicks ​ @rrtxcmt ​@saphic-susperia

[gogcther-a]

// -smashes  a  juice  box  of  ecto-cooler  against  the  side  of  this  blog  like  its  a  bottle  of  champagne  against  a  ship  on  its  maiden  voyage-

LIKE  FOR  A  STARTER!

[siena-sevenwits]

Consider this ask to be the proverbial bottle of champagne smashed on the prow of this blog to celebrate the asks being turned on.

Aw! How companionable of you!

Now I shall have the Champagne Aria from Mozart's Don Giovanni stuck in my head all day!

[hattywatch]

J. Vesey - Cups of Christmas Cheer

A/N: I am a Jimmy Blog. I’ve accepted it. I embrace it. Merry fuckin’ Christmas.

#2, 4 10, 22  2. “That’s the eggnog talking. I’m cutting you off.” 4. “Don’t be such a Scrooge.” 10. “Tis the season for sharing feelings, I guess.” 22. “How much sugar have you had?”

Every. Single. Year. 

You always tell yourself, as soon as you get home from these stupid things that it’s the last one. You wouldn’t be caught dead at another. 

Yet, here you are again, clad in an ugly sweater and snaking your way through the room of people entirely too advanced in age to be as absolutely smashed as they are. 

“Y/N!” You’re not sure if the shrill voice is your mother, or your aunt, they both sound alike after they’ve had a few glasses of champagne. Your dad catches your eye, winces and shakes his head in a little apology. 

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitc-,” your mother pins you with a look that even in her tipsy state has you blushing at your choice of words, “Traffic was crappy.” She smiles as you alter your vocabulary for her, pleased you remembered your manners. 

“No problem at all, honey. You don’t have to hang out in here with the old folks this year! Some of the cousins and kids could make it this year.” You wrinkle your nose; you’re well into your twenties and not sure if she has forgotten. “Go into the den, I think they were about to start a game or something.” Nodding, you accept the glass of eggnog your mother pours for you and drop your coat and scarf over the chair in the kitchen before making your way through the crush of people into the den.

It’s calmer in there, the house party your mother was happily hosting in the front end of the house doesn’t affect the calm of the den, tucked all the way in the back of the house behind a set of french doors.

This is more your speed. You close the door behind you and the loud Christmas music from your mom’s party is barely audible and you’re eternally grateful. A few of your cousins wave hello and you recognize various other people lounging on the plush couches and recliners that dot the room. You’re hardly a group of “kids,” as your mother put it, everyone well into their 20s. 

Walking around the room, you say your hellos as your older cousin, Jason, sets his santa hat on the corner of the TV. “So, I’ll put on an episode of The Office or something we can all agree on,” he starts explaining, “and every time someone’s head lines up  with the hat and it looks like they’re wearing it, we all take a drink. Cool? Easy enough?” Everyone agrees, and it looks like only a few of the cousins have a wine or beer, some are just casually sipping unspiked-eggnog like yourself, probably stuck driving their parents home later. 

Finally you get to Jimmy. His mom and your mom work together and you've seen him and his siblings around for years. They're friendly with your family, but it's not like you seek each other out. There’s only one seat left, unless you want to sit on the floor, and it’s next to Jimmy. 

“Can I sit here, Jim,” you ask, but you’re already starting to sit. He sips from his drink, it also looks like eggnog. 

“Didn’t really give me much of a choice there. Where’s my girl gunna sit?” You move to stand, getting a little red-faced and flustered. 

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t kno-,” you stammer through something resembling a sentence.

He laughs and pats the cushion you just vacated.  “I’m just fucking with you.” He looks so smug and sure of himself as you sit back down, still grinning his little smile. 

“Yeah you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” You’re hoping to make him red and stammery. He’s made you feel that way a few times in the past. You’ve haven’t sought him out, but it’s not to say he isn’t cute enough to catch your eye at events like this, quick witted and soft spoken, whispering smart comments under his breath making you laugh. One friend said it’s lack of options, you think the term she used is “office hot," but you know better.  

He jerks his head towards you, eyebrow raised, ““That’s the eggnog talking. I’m cutting you off.” It isn’t quite blushing and befuddled, but you’ll take it. 

“Sorry, Jim. It’s virgin,” you swirl the nog around in the glass before taking a sip and settle back into the couch to watch the show. 

“Must be the sugar then; how much sugar have you had?” Kicking his foot, you ignore the question. 

Jason points at the TV as Michael yells at Toby, hat sitting perfectly on his head. You elbow Jimmy. “Drink!” 

He elbows you back, “I’m not playing. I don’t need an excuse to drink a beer.” He taps his bottle against your glass. 

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be such a Scrooge!” You raise your glass and drink, to show him you’re playing, even without a beer. He rolls his eyes, but wraps his lips around the bottle and takes a swig, staring at you while he does. 

After the second episode people are starting to faction off into groups and chat. You take the chance to grab a water bottle from the fridge and spot a bottle of the beer Jimmy was drinking, so you grab that too. 

As you get back to the den, a few of your cousins walk past the opposite direction and say their goodbyes, before they start rounding up their parents- or attempt to anyway. By the time you make it back into the den there's only a few stragglers. Your cousin and her fiance standing in the corner talking to your neighbor's son, and two younger cousins sat on the floor in front of the TV trying to figure out how to hook up your brother's old Nintendo. 

You stop in the doorway since Jimmy is walking towards you. He smiles when he sees the beer and stops next to you, taking it from your hand and twisting open the top. 

"For me? Didn't know you cared." You didn't really know either, but maybe something about the magic of Christmas might be hitting you in the chest- it may also be his dorky Game of Thrones ugly sweater. 

You shrug up at him, catching a glimpse of the sprig of waxy leaves and white berries above his head. 

"Fuck." He follows your line of sight and looks up. 

"Ouch. I'm not that hideous, am I?" He takes a sip of his beer to hide the grimace that cracked through his always-calm facade. It sends you stuttering again. 

"Jim- no, not even. I just didn't want to assume- I didn't want to make you uncomforta-" he smirks, left side of his mouth pulling into his cheek. 

“I’m just fucking with you.” He repeats it so smoothly. 

You can't help yourself, “Yeah you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” Only half kidding, you're hopeful he takes the bait. 

The cold beer against your back before you can blink, his arms wrap around you and his mouth slides over yours. He pulls the breath from your lungs and you could slap your friend for even suggesting he's not smoking hot. 

It feels too quiet and you pull back from Jimmy, a little dizzy, and catch five pairs of eyes on you. 

He feels you tense under his arms and pulls you towards the kitchen, away from the gaping mouths in the den. "We should go for a walk. Seems we have a lot to talk about." 

Nodding, you shrug on your jacket and take his outstretched hand, following him out along the front path lined with bright white Christmas lights, twinkling happily. 

"Have to say, I didn't expect that." You squeeze his hand to let him know it wasn't a bad surprise. You'd be amiable to it happening again, frequently, in fact.

He tucks your hand into his jacket pocket, still wrapped up in his own, “Tis the season for sharing feelings, I guess," smiling down at you he leans over and plants another one on your cheek. 

Maybe mom's parties aren't so bad.

[agelessrp]

so today's the day we release our first preview - member groups! on los ageless, our member groups are based on old hollywood films. we don't expect every character to perfectly fit into the member group and in fact yours might have characteristics of several groups. just choose the group that most meets their personality and aesthetic. we put some handy character parallels to help you make the choice and if you're still torn, feel free to contact a member of staff to help you decide! we recommend you view the groups on the blog itself instead of the dashboard since tumblr's coding isn't playing nicely with us and won't seem to show everything. ♡

A STAR IS BORN #60A5b2 expressive / moody / romantic / highly strung

smiling through tears, unsent love letters, a heartfelt ballad, oversized sweaters, late night phone calls, a face that gives everything away, the patter of raindrops on glass windows, passionate kisses lingering on your neck, diary entries tucked away, picking at scars until they bleed again, acoustic guitar melodies, stargazing with a lover, checking horoscopes everyday PARALLELS: stefan salvatore, lara jean covey, lucas scott, buffy summers, randall pearson, adena el-amin, paula proctor, magnus bane, romeo montague, norma bates, david rose

BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S #D48FB1 aloof / magnetic / charming / flirtatious

cat-eyed sunglasses, all black outfits, tinder on tap, dancing all night, coffee on fire escapes, never settling and always moving, months old clothes with the tag still on, a startling smile, smooth pick-up lines, bare feet in the morning, red lipstick smudged on a takeaway coffee cup, unfinished books, the touch of crushed velvet, soft pillows, late night gossip sessions PARALLELS: serena van der woodsen, ambrose spellman, veronica lodge, dionne davenport, peter kavinsky, joey tribbiani, jordan baker, rafael solano, nick young, maggie vera, cher horowitz

REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE #C33F4A defiant / passionate / loyal / careless

leather jackets and doc martens, messy hair, the smell of a bonfire, protesting until your voice is hoarse, drunken tattoos, sharp red nails and a sharper tongue, neon signs lighting up the night, the sound of the ocean during a storm, empty beer bottles, old record players, everything is a competition, easy laughter amongst friends, emotions control everything PARALLELS: eleanor shellstrop, han solo, nakia, steven hyde, katniss everdeen, archie andrews, tim riggins, kat edison, diego hargreeves, maia roberts

ROMAN HOLIDAY #79AF79 adventurous / optimistic / generous / overly sensitive

an overflowing passport, reading a worn out classic on the train, untouched made beds, salty hair and sun-soaked skin, vespa rides down the coast, giving away your last penny to charity, running at dawn, always believing the best will happen, late night drives, the echo of a contagious giggle, the smell of freshly cut grass, the mom friend, summer days at the beach PARALLELS: piper halliwell, scott mccall, bilbo baggins, theo putnam, caroline forbes, jake peralta, chris traegar, joyce byers, moira strand, phil dunphy

THE GODFATHER #925192 mysterious / explosive / clever / unpredictable

impeccable suits, the smoke from a cigarette, frown creases, holes in walls, perfectly thought out plans, dingy dive bars, silent glares, stacks of books hidden away, street smarts, a cross necklace hanging between their collarbones, clenched fists, pretending to be fine, street smarts, dark academia, boiling hot summer days in the city, an energy that you can't pin down, always seeking revenge PARALLELS: ryan atwood, faith lehane, damon salvatore, erik killmonger, henry winter, jen harding, daenerys targaryen, annalise keating, katherine pierce, rosa diaz

SUNSET BOULEVARD #D18556 dramatic / deceptive / resourceful / egocentric

smashed crystal vases, faux fur coats, a perfectly organized home, silk pyjamas, lying with ease, overflowing champagne, a dream always in sight, spa appointments, afternoon migraines, expensive cologne and perfume, bubble baths, fingers dipped in gold, knowing what you want and getting there, rose gold everything, perfectly styled hair, every entrance is a performance PARALLELS: blair waldorf, jackie burkhart, isabelle lightwood, regina george, harry bingham, littlefinger, beth boland, titus andromedon, apollo, sophia burset, moira rose

WIZARD OF OZ #D4C153 imaginative / eccentric / naive / brave

flower crowns and daisy chains, fairy lights strewn across a room, creating a whole world in your head, believing the wildest of stories, cheeks flushed pink, kill them with kindness, freshly baked muffins, the easy splatter of paint on a canvas, bursts of unexpected intelligence, bubbly laughs and bright smiles, bright colors painted on walls, surprising moments of bravery, living a simple life PARALLELS: luna lovegood, kira yikimura, simon lewis, phoebe buffay, elle woods, judy hale, kimmy schmidt, jane villanueva, willow rosenberg, klaus hargreeves, lando calrissian, dustin henderson

WEST SIDE STORY #547294 intelligent / caring / disciplined / leader-like

matching tattoos with friends, organised chaos, a band of misfits, a commanding and loud voice, chatter at a dinner party, knowledge held between shaking fingers, white flags, deep meaningful conversations, an overcrowded house, quiet moments tucked away, seasons changing, light academia, standing up for everyone but yourself, competitive PARALLELS: remus lupin, spencer hastings, t'challa, raymond holt, jon snow, annabeth chase, allison argent, alex romero, luke garroway, athena grant, bonnie bennett, spencer james