#so there is obviously a missed opportunity to make her visibly non-white.

[hotdyke-hardstyle]

Dance as you wish before the music stops!

Honkai Impact 3rd v6.5 [Hot Sands Escapade] - Susannah Manatt

[naerysthelonesome]

Time spent together

Part 6:

The narrator returns

Apollo and Lit are very, very close to Artemis’ place now. Apollo looks splotchy and nervous. I don’t like it. Clashes too much with his outfit. Lit, on the other hand looks cool and calm. That’s weird. Probably a façade.

Apollo finally makes a turn, and pulls into a driveway in this really nice neighborhood. I’d consider living here, if I could… live, you know? He parks the car and just sits there, like an idiot. I’m sure Lit notices because he punches Apollo lightly in the arm, and steps out. Apollo follows soon after, and Lit moves to the backseat to get his bag, but the former flaps at his arms in impatience. Boi does he not look the epitome of grace today.

Lit shoots him a look, and shoulders his bag anyway.

They both make their way to the front door of the pretty, baby blue house. It looks quaint, and cozy, and not really someplace I’d imagine Apollo’s cool sister Artemis living, but maybe she’s into the whole cottagecore thing. I wouldn’t know. I’m supposed to keep focused on Apollo and Lit.

Speaking of, Apollo is trying to look collected and nonchalant as he knocks on the door, but it’s (incredibly) clear that he isn’t. Lit inches just a little bit closer, trying to offer his support, but of course Apollo doesn’t notice. At least not at first. Then Lit’s hand brushes against his own, and, I kid you not, his eyes spark. His breath hitches in his chest, and he goes completely still. Simp.

The door bangs open to reveal a silver woman. No seriously, she’s silvery all over. Her hair and eyebrows have been dyed a most mesmerizing silvery-white, her skin glows in places (silver highlighter methinks), and all the delicate silver jewelry over the lacy, dark green tank top and gray shorts makes her look ethereal and fairylike. DAMN she is really taking the Artemis thing seriously.

“Big brother!”

“We’re twins, and you’re unoriginal”, Apollo says resignedly. Like he’s had this exact conversation before. He probably has. Artemis simply smiles.

“Aw don’t be like that!”

She turns toward Lit, who’s been standing there awkwardly, and offers him her hand. Palm facing down, snowy white fingers curled, like she expects him to kiss it.

Lit looks like he’s visibly restraining himself from turning to Apollo in bewilderment.

“Aren’t you going to take my hand?” Artemis asks, with a fake pout.

Lit reaches out and takes it, completely unsure of what to do next. He just holds it like it’s an unwanted bug someone’s placed in his hand.

“Must all your dates be so rude, Apollo?” Artemis questions, with a huff.

“Must you always act like a twat that doesn’t know what century it is, Artemis?” he replies, turning to Lit. “She’s just playing with you”.

Artemis laughs, and walks away. It’s a normal laugh, no tinkling wind chimes, or tumbling rivers. I don’t even know if that’s humanly possible. Stephanie must have been on something.

“Something tells me it’s best if I play along”, Lit says, following Apollo through the door.

“Definitely. Oh, and leave your shoes here.”

Two of the girls Artemis lives with are insanely pretty. (But then, all humans look insanely pretty to me… oh to have a physical form). And they look like polar opposites. The bigger one is wearing a flowy summer dress that perfectly complements her wheatish skin, her pink and brown hair in a neatly curled high pony, winged eyeliner on point. The other one has her orange-red hair hanging about her face, some of it still fixed in the messiest messy bun I’ve ever seen. She stays seated on the sofa, in her dull grey sweats, and simply turns to wave at the boys when they walk in, eyes still on the tv.

“Hi! I’m Arson”, says they pink-haired one, “And that’s Claire. She’s normally the active one, but it’s shark week so she’ll just lie there like that all day, useless”. She (they?) swiftly catches they pillow that’s been chucked at them, and grins. “Oh and Thalia’ll be out in a sec”.

“Your name’s Arson?” Lit asks, politely trying not to sound shocked or confused.

“Heh yeah. Of all the non-binary names someone like me could have picked, right?” They say, with a short laugh. “It was a close call between this, and Twig.”

“Her pronouns are she and they, btw”, Apollo says walking up from where he’d been talking to his sister, to envelop Arson in a hug, “Hey Ari!”

“Ah jeez. The hugging still isn’t over?” A raven haired girl says, walking into the now slightly crowded living room. “Well I’m Thalia. Do no touch me”. That last part was spit at Apollo. Her tone is menacing, but her little smirk shows otherwise.

“Hey Thalia”, Apollo says, reaching over to pat the red-head, Claire, on the shoulder, and ruffle her already ruffled hair. Please somebody comb it already!

“This is Lit, Apollo’s newest fling”, Artemis says, gesturing to the boy who looks like he can’t decide whether he wants to live here, or run away. He gives the room a shy smile. (Aww)

“Great! Now that we all know each other,” Get out of Pridelands? Sorry sorry. Just couldn’t miss out the opportunity to quote Lion King: Simba’s Pride. Artemis simply continues on with something about lunch and rotisserie chicken.

It’s been quite an uneventful couple hours, but oh, how could that possibly last? In a room full of people, half with names with mythological roots, and the one named after a crime? There’s bound to be some drama. No, calm down, there isn’t going to be a fire. Unless it’s Lit’s heart flaming for Apollo, or vice versa. ANYWAY I’m going way off script.

“So Lit, how’d you guys meet?” Claire asks around a mouthful of veggies, feet nestled comfortably on Arson’s lap. I’m starting to think they might be more than friends, but what do I know?

“Oh we had to do a project together. Obviously, we’d seen each other around before then, but yeah… that’s the first time we really interacted”, Lit answered, awkwardly trailing off at end, as if he thought he’d said to much. Seriously Lit? That was barely anything.

“And how long ago was that?” Arson asked.

“Uh-”

“About a month ago”, Apollo supplied, lacing his fingers through Lit’s, their hands clearly visible from the sofa they were seated on.

Lit’s adam’s apple bobbed, and he shifted slightly in his seat, but managed to keep calm, even lifting their conjoined hands into his lap.

“Huh. How long have you guys been together, then?” Thalia asked, staring to look interested.

“A couple weeks.” Apollo’s voice was calm, at startling odds with the red of his face.

“Oh?” Artemis said finally, her eyes moving from their linked hands, to Apollo’s face. “You move awfully fast brother.”

“Well, we both wanted it”, Lit tried to cut in. The sudden tension between the twins is so thick, even oblivious Lit notices.

Artemis ignores him and continues, “Don’t you remember what happened last time you moved this quickly?”

“Artemis, please”, Apollo says, starting to sound irritated, “You wanted me to stop fucking around, and I did. You seem to have a problem with everything I do.”

“Oh is that why you’re dating him? Because of me?” Oh shit… we’re getting awfully close to the truth now, huh?

“No. No, of course not”, Apollo lies quietly. Lit manages to discreetly untangle their fingers and pull away, looking a little hurt. “I like Lit”. So not all lies then? If only Lit knew that, then he’d stop looking like a kicked puppy.

“Just make sure he isn’t another Daphne”, Artemis says, a challenging look in her eyes.

“That was a mistake and you know it! When are you going to stop bringing it up?” Apollo spits angrily, before he gets up and walks out the front door.

Lit sits there in shock for a second, before deciding that an angry Apollo was easier to deal with that a room full of upset and curious people, and follows behind him. Damnit! I wanted to stay behind and listen to the gossip. Would you mind terribly if I did that?

Yea, I suppose you would.

Lit is leaning against the wall of the house, hands in his pockets, while Apollo leans over the porch railing, and stares at his car.

“So who’s Daphne?”

Apollo sighs in defeat, before saying, “My ex. One of my only two exes”. Then he turns around before almost hastily adding, “Exes being people I’ve actually dated, that is. Not just people I’ve slept with”.

“Of course. Of course you still care about your reputation as a fuckboy”, Lit says, sounding disappointed more than anything else. Look, I’m a sucker for drama, but what the hell is this?! I don’t like this.

“What? No”. Apollo sounds... scared? “No I’m just trying to be as clear as possible.”

Lit doesn’t say anything.

“Besides, why are you even mad? It’s not like we’re actually dating”.

“No.” Lit whispers, “We’re not”.

“Hey”, Apollo pleads, “I can’t handle you being mad at me too, Lit. I’m sorry you got dragged into this shit”.

Lit waves the apology away. “Why is Artemis so mad about Daphne?” If I were even a little less intuitive, I would’ve missed the hopeful tone of that question.

“Oh. Um- Daphne was one of Artemis’ best friends. That’s how we got close in the first place. Sometime last year, we started seeing each other, and eventually became official. We’d moved really quickly, and honestly didn’t have much in common except Artemis” And divinely good looks, if Apollo’s many flings are anything to go by. “But everything went great, nonetheless. Better than great, even. I started to think I loved her. Until it didn’t. Around the three month mark, things started to go sour. We’d disagree about pretty much everything, and we’d fight and argue all the time. Then it started to get monotonous and boring and we were just going through the motions. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I broke up with her, and…” That’s the one place he hesitates. “Left. I just left for college, and Artemis had to deal with Daphne, who apparently took it hard. I didn’t speak to her at all until just a few months ago.

We’re okay now, by the way. She says that I’m a better friend that boyfriend, and I can’t say I disagree. Lucky for you that we’re just faking it, right?” I notice the slight hitch in his voice, but Lit apparently doesn’t. He lets out a dry chuckle. “Artemis, on the other hand, is still obviously pissed. I don’t blame her. She said that Daphne only dated me at all because I seduced her. At first, I thought that was ridiculous, but if all the hoes on campus are anything to go by, it seems that was entirely possible”, he finishes bitterly. Well... that was quite a speech.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or exasperated by your unwavering level of self-confidence”, Lit says tiredly, after a brief pause. “Well that wasn’t as bad as I expected”.

“Yea, Artemis has been known to overreact”.

“I think her reaction was warranted”. Lit himself looks surprised at having defended Artemis.

“Maybe it was”, Apollo amends, eager to get back on Lit’s good side, I suppose. “You’re not still mad, are you?”

“I’m not mad at you, no” comes the curt reply, suggesting that he is still mad at something. This whole situation, probably. This trip was supposed to be romantic for God’s sake!

“Good, because we have a little party to attend this evening”.

[stebeans]

She-ra inspired Actor AU - I

Maya Sanchez as Catra

Taylor Cruz as Adora

Jessica Cho as Glimmer 

Marcus Patterson as Bow

A She-ra Actor AU fic where She-ra and the Princesses of Power is a popular tv series and our lovable characters are played by actresses/actors. Inspired by the amazing fanart and concept by @sunzho and @hey_adora on instagram #cayaactorau, see link below and please follow them! 

https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/cayaactorau/

P.S. I also changed the “real-life” name for Adora’s actress that sunzho and hey_adora came up with from Claire Cruz to Taylor Cruz . Not that I hated the name but I have bad experiences with Claire’s in my life and it felt odd on my part to write about a character with the same name...please forgive me!

But also! ship name for these two...Maylor? Maytay? I am horrible at this, I’ll admit.

Anyways I have a few head-cannons for this AU and I have a few snippets I would like to write. But this is the first of many! Please enjoy!

First Meeting

Maya glanced around the waiting room, her fingers playing with the worn and crumpled script in her hands. This was the first time she was auditioning for a part larger than the “background Latino girl” of a typical low-budget high school movie and to say she was nervous would be an understatement. Her agent had mentioned that the showrunners were open minded and there wasn’t any clear restrictions on the lead character but despite that, the waiting room was filled with the stereotypical tall, thin, blonde and ridiculously hot actresses that seemed to be overrun in LA. Seriously, what was in the water? It was clear as day that Maya stood out like a sore thumb with her dark skin, darker hair, with freckles that sprinkled across her cheeks and who stood at five-foot two inches on a good day.

Her mom had use to accompany her through many of her auditions, kind and supportive and not at all like the overbearing mothers she had come across in her earlier days when she was just a teen trying to break into show business. When she had hit seventeen she had finally convinced her mom that she was old enough to venture to auditions on her own. Her brothers, all older than she was, needed more supervision than a tub of ice cream on a hot summer day. Now she wished for her mom’s calming presence.

“Do you mind?” The aspiring actress next to her snapped, eyes narrowing at the way Maya had been unconsciously bouncing her leg in a staccato rhythm.

Immediately freezing, Maya shot her a sheepish look. “Sorry.” She apologized, wringing the script in her hands into a roll. “Just a little nervous I guess.”

“Yeah, no shit.” The blonde rolled her eyes before turning into her seat that put her back to Maya, effectively closing Maya off to the conversation she was having with the person on the other side.

Heat rose up Maya’s neck, across her cheeks and even up to her ears. Embarrassed, Maya’s eyes shot down to her lap where she smoothed out the script for the hundredth time. The cover page – white, crisp text and simple as was the industry standard— read:

                                             SHE-RA REBOOT

                                                    written by

                                               Noelle Stevenson

                                             based on the series

                                   She-Ra: Princess of Power (1985)

Honestly, Maya had never even heard of She-ra, didn’t have a clue what it was all about besides concluding that She-ra was indeed a person. A heroine actually. Plot, characters, villains were still a mystery as it was way before her time. Her three older brothers, the youngest was five years older than her, had teased her relentlessly as brothers do prior to the audition. They had puffed out their chest, calling out for He-man before striking obnoxious power poses and pitching their voices to imitate a ridiculous feline accent that more often than not, was interjected with an annoying “meow”.  Ugh, if the reboot was anything like how her brothers pitched it, maybe it wouldn’t be too awful if she was passed up. Not that the images that popped up when she had done a quick google search was very impressing either. Too much skin, not enough clothes, and that was for both sexes…species…whatever! What was this show even about?

Now she was even more nervous for different reasons. She couldn’t even imagine herself being so exposed with the lack of fabric the costumes required. Pulling the sleeves of her over-sized hoodie over her fingers, Maya resisted the urge to bounce her leg again lest the blonde turn back around and give her a black eye. Nope. Black eyes were definitely not a good look when trying to land a role.  

The door to the small waiting room the actresses had been herded into swung open with a bang, bouncing off the door stop and nearly pulling the door off its hinges. Another blonde walked through and unlike the other blondes in the room, Maya couldn’t tell if she was a staff member or an actress. Besides the blue-eyed, blonde haired look almost all the girls in the room were sporting this one was different from the rest. She looked…hard, rough around the edges. Her blue eyes cut through the room, lingering on Maya for a brief second before finding nothing of interest. She blew out a bubble with her pink gum as she weaved her way through the room, slightly hunched over with her hands buried deep in her black leather jacket. The girl had three too many piercing deemed respectable in Hollywood and Maya wouldn’t be surprised if she had other…non-visible piercings or tattoos for that matter.

The girl’s entrance had captured the majority of the room’s attention. Conversations and idle chatter had quieted as everyone watched her sign in at the check-in station. “Seriously?” The bitch next to Maya muttered in disbelief. “Her?”

No one had bothered to comment as the girl strolled up to where they were seated, her eyes cutting to Maya’s before raising a perfectly pierced eyebrow at her. Gulping, Maya tilted her head up in confusion. Jeez, the girl was taller than Maya had initially thought and super attractive too. When it was obvious Maya wasn’t going to make a move, the newcomer stared pointedly at Maya, than at the tattered backpack at her feet – now noticing how it effectively blocked the walking path –  and back up at Maya. Flushing, or had she ever stopped blushing? “Right!” Maya leaned forward and jerkily tugged her backpack onto her lap. “Sorry!”

Either Maya was stronger than she looked or her bag was in worst shape than it appeared – most likely, almost definitely the latter – because the zipper of her backpack decided that yes, this was the most opportune time to break and to spill its contents across the floor. “Shit!” Maya cursed, hurrying to grab her items before she caused a bigger scene.

A few snickers echoed the room and a sharp “what the fuck?” from beside her had Maya wishing the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. Mercifully the rough-looking blonde didn’t say anything but she wasn’t exactly helpful either, opting to stand and watch idly while Maya hastily shoved various things into her bag. Her physics and mathematics AP textbook, a graphic calculator, her phone, a windbreaker jacket, and embarrassingly enough her dusty and dirty softball jersey had fallen out too. “Fucking loser. Go back to whatever hick country you’re from.”  

“Hey!”

Maya looked up startled, her fingers wrapped around her backpack in a white-knuckled grip. The girl had pulled her hands from out of her leather jacket and now had them curled up in tight fists, eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare that made Maya nervous even though it wasn’t directed at her but at the blonde next to her who’ve been making comments all day. “Fuck off. She’s fine.”    

Thankfully smart-mouth decided to keep her mouth shut, though her lips pursed in distaste. She obviously wasn’t dumb enough to pick a fight with the girl who looked like she could bench two hundred pounds no problem. They glared at each other for what seemed like eternity, the room tense and quiet as they were all caught up in the impromptu showdown. Finally smart-mouth caved and looked away and the tension eased. No catfight here. No sir, not today. We’re all professionals here.

Though if it did come to blows, Maya was willing to bet her whole savings on who would win that particular fight. “Ignore her.” The girl said. “She’s a bitch.”

Maya noticed in her peripherals that smart-mouth had stiffened at the comment but didn’t react otherwise. Thank God. Maya definitely did not want to be pulled in whatever might transpire. She was already at a disadvantage. She didn’t want to be known as “That-Latino-Girl-That-Starts-Fights-In-Waiting-Rooms”. It was a more of a mouthful than “successful actress Maya Sanchez”.  

The girl bent down, picking up the old softball that had rolled against her Converses. She tossed it gently in the air, catching it with one hand before handing it over to Maya. “Thanks.” Maya said softly, almost a whisper.

The girl nodded once, understanding that the thanks was more for than just returning her softball before settling down in the only free seat a few chairs over from where Maya sat. The wait resumed without more fanfare, thank God again. More names were called and soon enough the waiting room dwindled until there were only a handful of actresses left. “Maya…Sanchez?” A staff called out and Maya stood almost too quickly, nearly tripping over her own feet.

Fuck. She looked like a total loser. Though the only one in the room looking at her was the rough-looking blonde. “Oh!” The staff who previously had his nose glued to his clipboard as if he couldn’t understand the name that was written down, finally looking up with surprise clearly written on his face as he did a once-over at Maya. “Right this way Miss Sanchez.” He directed with a forced smile, re-arranging his expressions to look somewhat professional as Maya followed after him.

There was a quiet laugh behind her and Maya turned slightly to see the first smile on the rough blonde’s face. It was really cute and the smile had stunned Maya enough for her steps to falter. Their eyes caught and the blonde offered a wry grin and a nod of encouragement. Or what Maya perceived as encouragement. She didn’t know the girl at all and she had been quiet ever since the tense exchange. For the few words she did say, half of them had been swear words.

Maya made her way down the corridor into a smaller room where the staff member had left her with a insincere “good luck” and facing a table where three older women sat. Sucking in a deep breath, Maya deposited her bag at the door before making her way to stand in front of them where they politely introduced themselves as the casting director, executive producer and director.  No big deal. They’re just people too. People who may or may not jump start your acting career.

Squaring her shoulders, Maya smiled brightly.

“My name is Maya Sanchez am I am auditioning for the lead role of Adora.”

[terradisirene]

Recently I saw an essay about how Hima’s portrayal of the Italy brothers was racist and xenophobic, in addition to being poor and one dimensional, and I couldn’t agree less.

Link to google docs version

Also although I prefer Romano I honestly think North Italy  is a interesting and well developed character  although that is easy to miss for some. Both of them are developed and shown wonderfully in canon and I continue to be eager to see more. In this essay I will show why I believe their portrayals are well done and how they are accurate to the situation in Italy as well as to it’s history and culture (That being said if you prefer a different interpretation that’s fine, there can be many different narratives)

North Italy does seem at first glance to be more talented, kind, and politically inclined. However this is not the entire story. Likewise Romano seems more rude and undesirable, but this is not everything in canon regarding him. In one strip Romano is noted to have a good deal of potential by Prussia and Germany, showing that he can be hard working and talented if he makes the effort. In the strip where Romano goes to America he also is quite confident in his cooking talents which America is actually impressed by. In another strip America even calls his cooking the best, and Romano himself is in later decades proud of his cooking, showing that yes he is good at things, and yes he is talented.

The problem is is that Romano does not have to motivation often to use his talents and work ethic. There are many reasons for this that Himaruya both states and alludes to. Firstly Himaruya states that being owned by various powers had a negative effect on Romano and that mismanagement by his rulers lead him to seem lazy since their mismanaged ruling rubbed off on him. Basically political control, corruption , and mismanagement stymied south Italy’s growth, which is true depending on the era and time period and  true regarding modern day. Also in one strip after Romano makes an effort to work hard, but all his efforts come to nothing and he eventually grows resigned. I believe this is a reflection of the fact that there is an attitude among some south Italians of resignation towards politicians and things improving for themselves,  such as shown in the song La Citta di Pulcinella (translation). Himaruya also touches on this when he notes the harmful affect the Mafia has on south Italy in his notes and even laments that fact.

Basically Romano has the potential  to be just as good as north Italy but is unable to be because of historical circumstances and due to the harmful effect of corruption. Romano’s rudeness and lack of evident kindness and cynical worldview is also a result of this as he has been at the mercy of the mafia both in real life and in canon. Hima notes his cynicism is due to the harmful effects of the mafia and how they have hurt him . Romano in my opinion has reason to be rude, he has reason to be unkind, he has reason to be cynical, the mafia continues to be a serious  issue and was even worse in the past, and thus his world view has been affected by how he has suffered at their hands. He also has to deal with the fact that he feels he is compared to north Italy, and openly  feels and says he is not good enough or talented enough compared to him. This is based in reality. The north is often seen as better than the south and indeed it is more wealthy, does have better infrastructure, x does have more industry and renown and Romano is clearly sour because of this. Himaruya showing someone reacting negatively towards adverse circumstances i think is not a negative stereotype but just showing the harmful effects of the situation of the south. Romano is not totally unkind either. Despite their conflicts he does care about his brother, he  often  shows  a lot  concern  for  Spain  and worries about him, he is kind to women generally , and has some nations he is friendly with like Japan  Netherlands and Belgium . So in sum hima does not show Romano as unkind, but as a complex being who can be both kind and unkind like many people.

The south is seen as a land of little opportunity, dirty, unclean and full of crime by the north that is true, however sadly that perception has some  perception in reality. For example many southerners leave the south to find work up north and stay there. This even happens to one of the protagonists of Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels and it is seen as escaping Naples to make a better life for herself while the other protagonist  stays stuck in Naples, stunted by the lack of opportunity and male oppression that she struggles against all her life. Naples also  sadly has a serious trash  problem as does Rome, there is even a facebook page titled “Rome is disgusting” in Italian showing the trash  problems of Rome. The mafia also   dumps  toxic  waste  around Naples, leading to high rates of sickness and cancer in the population compared to other parts of Italy due to the fact that the toxic waste seeps into the ground water and the plants grown around the area.

Romano feels interior to North Italy and seems so at first glance because that is a reflection of the sad situation of the divide between north and south. However again note I said ‘at first glance’, because while many write off the south at first glance there is a richness and beautify behind that with its rich culture and the beauty of it’s people, as there is with Romano, which I note with his hidden and subtle  kindness in canon .

Romano’s Arabic blood and darker appearance is due the fact that Arabs from north Africa invaded Sicily, ruled there for about two hundred years, and left a lasting cultural legacy behind there. It makes sense he has Arabic blood, as well as the fact that some, though not all, southern Italians do have a darker complexation (some also have red hair, blonde hair, hazel eyes, or blue eyes, due to Norman influence too). However that doesn’t mean they are poc (in Italy persone di colore is used instead) and even though Romano does have some Arabic blood frankly he would not be seen as non white in Italy. I don’t really think it’s right to bring up a poc argument in regards to him given that. In addition to that Italy also has a problem regarding xenophobia and  racism in regards to African immigrants and Romani and many suffer and are marginalized there, something Romano would not experience in that regard. Romano is also noted to have a “Darker” nature, but this is again because of the mafia. He is affected and blighted by them, it’s not a reference to his coloring but to his cynicism and how they have drained him and his people of the prosperity they could have had otherwise. He is also noted to be “dirtier” not in the sense of being messy or unclean but in how his image looks, and the expressions he makes, this is a reference to the south’s rougher and more intense nature. It’s often said that the more  south you go, the more intense and more of the nature of Italy you get and indeed the south of Italy is often said to be a love it or hate it place.

There is also additional canon reasons for Romano’s bitterness and darker personality like how he feels Rome favored north Italy  (There may be historical reasons for this but I am limiting this essay to what is stated openly or alluded to more obviously in canon) and how he seems to feel haunted by his legacy. And as for other nations favoring North Italy over him, some do not like Spain and Belgium, and the the fact that some seem to is also sadly reflective of reality as many people only pay attention to or visit the north of Italy, neglecting or avoiding the south and only looking at the cities of Venice, Florence and Milan and not Palermo, Naples, or Caligari.

While the two brothers did not meet in Rome’s lifetime there is no indication this lasted until the Italian wars during the 1500′s portrayed in the canon strips . In fact during Spain’s rule of south Italy shortly after Romano is shown mentioning he is going to travel to visit his brother so they clearly had met by this point. Due to the nature of canon himaruya jumps across time periods often and so we do not always see everything that occurs within or before a certain time period. Sometimes he returns  later, and sometimes he does not, though he could in the future. As for North Italy’s reactions to his struggles people have different reactions to hard situations, and that is not wrong, not everyone will struggle in the same way. It’s not something that indicates a lack of character but just a personality facet. Not everything has to contribute to development and that doesn’t mean a uninteresting or uncomplex character. Some people are simply affected differently by traumatic events. That being said I find it interesting he seems to hold a deep fear of angering others as well as some fear of abandonment .

We will turn to North Italy again. Yes he is cute, but that is not all his character is. He is far more than that. He is kind , he is intelligent , he is noted to be good at business, he is also fashionable  and knows how to get what he   wants out of people, he also can  be a bit  vulgar sometimes. He also was good at warfare when he was a child, and if one looks into the time period of the strips it seems he lessens in his ability the longer he is under Austria’s domain. He is also good at art, he is good at cooking, and he is  even also not exactly the nicest person .

I have noticed that many people miss this but sometimes he is actually a little sneaky and mean . This is most evident with Romano actually. In one of their first appearances together when Romano asks Italy to complement him Italy outright refuses, backs away, and as a result makes Romano cry more than he had before and he flies off. In another comic Italy goes up to Romano, seems surprised he is working, and Romano is visibly hurt by this, he also seems to even doubt Romano’s ability to even do so, offering to do work for him which Romano is bothered by . Finally Italy has been shown to get outright angry at Romano at times, in one drawing he is yelling at Romano over the Venice independence referendum, saying Romano doesn’t want him around anyways . While North Italy does love his brother he clearly is not the nicest person to him at times which does little to motivate Romano to do much of anything, and sadly North Italy does not treat him as a equal really given how condescending he can sometimes be. He also is a little rude to Japan at times, like when they are in the bath, sort of hinting he thinks Japan has a small dick.  In addition to this he is pretty sneaky and sometimes even flirty in regards to Germany and is able to really get Germany to do whatever he wants, though this is more evident in World Stars  .

As for everyone liking him in the past he and Turkey were antagonistic, with Turkey stating he hated kids as a result of him (And Greece), and Austria was often angry and frustrated with   him. In modern times Belarus has shown aggression to him when he  tried to feel her chest and was visibly angry with good reason to be. The other girls didn’t allow him to do so either, but all had various reactions. From Monaco and Belgium not taking him seriously and gloating over their superior gambling and waffles respectively  to Wy giving him rather done look and telling him to buzz off, to Taiwan being upset and telling him off, Vietnam having none of it and glaring at him, to the most surprising of them all, Ukraine openly flirting with him and giving him a seductive gaze he is a little intimidated by . His relationships are clearly not predictable but are interesting and fun to see and clearly not everyone thinks he is cute or is willing to put up with him especially the girls ironically. Switzerland too shows little tolerance for Italy’s antics, but is willing to spend time him civilly as long as he behaves himself , Russia too has gotten impatient with him at times, and so has Japan. And as for France he’s a interesting case, since at times he can be brotherly towards Italy  but at the same time is also willing to tell him off, like when he actually hit him for asking for the Mona Lisa back. People like Italy, but not everyone does and even those who like him don’t like him all the time.

Frankly I think their characters make perfect sense. Romano’s anger and resentment is rooted in many things. In how people compare him and his brother, on his brother’s lackluster treatment of him, in the oppressions of the mafia, the years of being ruled over by other nations, and by poverty, neglect, and corrupt politics. North Italy for his part is frustrated by Romano and often doesn’t understand him and thinks his brother his weighing him down, though he fails to see how he is also contributing to his brother’s resignation and lack of self worth. He instead tries to work hard and do his best, while sucking up to others and making himself seem charming and pleasing to get what he wants and not make others angry at him. In fact he seems to have a deep and pressing fear of others being angry at him.

In sum I think canon does a good job with both of their characters. It shows them in a humorous nature in accordance with the genre of the strips while still leaving room for character complexity along with historical and cultural references and allusions, as well as reflecting both aspects of the historical and modern situation of north and south Italy depending on what time period the strip is set. Romano is shown to be rude, difficult, sometimes violent, and darker, however these are only traits that come as a result of the abandonment of Rome, the poverty and corruption of his land,  and the malign influence and harm of the mafia affecting him. In addition to this he is also sometimes kind, fun loving, emotional, sensitive,  a hard worker when he tries to be, is shown to be a talented cook, someone with a good deal of potential, and someone who has people who like him like Netherlands, Belgium, Spain, and Japan. On the other hand Italy is shown to yes, be kind and cute, but canon also shows him to be  flirty, sneaky, angry, resentful, intelligent, and even a little rude at times. Many people like him, but not all do, for example Belarus, or many do not like him all the time and show impatience with him like Wy, France, Romano, and Switzerland. The difficulties he has experienced have not affected him in the same way they have Romano but that’s to be expected, for the two did not go though the same things and it’s only normal for people to have different reactions to trauma, some handling it better than others. This does not denote a lack of character complexity or development but just a different kind of person and temperament. I think that this shows that both Italy and Romano are interesting and complex characters and that himaruya in my opinion has done his work and research in trying to develop them and do strips for them. He does not indulge in colorism or xenophobia but merely seeks to show the good and bad of both sides of Italy and the complex reality of the south today and in history which has it’s bad and good points.

As a side note in Valentino strip is unfinished and Germany and Italy never discuss their respective feelings or misunderstandings and Italy is less uncomfortable and more confused and worried that Germany is angry at him.

[spacecharr]

Why I’m Not Threatened By Old Men

A (high) treatise on why young women shouldn't be afraid of all old men.

Written by a (high) young bi woman of colour.

---

Lemme start by saying I wrote that title because I thought it would be clickbaity. And I wrote the subtitle like that because I'm being "funny" and I anticipate it will generate trolling. My popcorn is getting cold, and I want a show.

And incidentally, it's all true.

Because this is SpaceCharr pontificating on #authenticity and weed, son!

My local Starbucks is small, has a tiny little patio, limited seating and serves a wildly diverse customer base. From your Basic Skinny Pumpkin Spice Latte Bitch(TM) to uniformed police, from sharply dressed businessmen to soccer moms with three kids and a Burberry purse, from punk-rock loud and proud visibly LGBTQ folks to button-down sweater-vest old-schoolers, and from local college kids to retired old men.

It’s fascinating to see the crazy range of people and it makes for eavesdropping lazily on some hilarious (and sometimes very serious) conversations ranging all over the place.

And for some reason, I have a really really easy time getting old white men to talk to me. 

Lemme lay some context: I’m a friendly gal. I’m sociable, (I’ve been told) charming, easy going, and very casual. I remember in elementary being given feedback by my teachers that I was “unapproachable”, and they were worried I would have difficulty making friends. From junior high on, I purposefully (after much coaching from my parents and my mom especially) sought out opportunities to learn better social skills. As an only kid, I didn’t have any siblings to be guaranteed friends with, and my relationship with my extended family was spotty at best. 

So if I wanted friends, I knew I’d have to get them on my own. (Troll Note: I know some dipshit’s gonna be all “omg sure #thathappened. Like a grade schooler can know that” - and you’re right! Grade like, 3-6 me had no fuckin’ clue. But 20s me? Who’s gone through a bunch of psychotherapy? Now she knows a bit more)

I learned interpersonal skills. I did drama, I joined clubs, I did Toastmasters (fuckin’ fantastic, btw, look for your local chapter), and I even did the Dale Carnegie Interpersonal Skills course that’s based off How to Win Friends and Influence People (1000% recommend, A+ on how to be a decent human despite its manipulative-sounding title which is brilliant). I learned how to be a more approachable person - and I learned why people find it approachable.

I saw the difference in how people received me when I spoke formally versus when I spoke in a very familiar tone (”hello” vs “hey, hey!”). I noticed that I could easily put the people I was dealing with off-balance in a good way (relieved surprise) with humour and well-meant self-deprecation. I learned through trial and error what body language and touch cues elicited in terms of responses across various types of people. It became second nature for me to analyse and act on these, and my knowledge of these techniques helps me daily in my work as a consultant.

So now, after several years in the workforce, multiple significant life events (aka I’m relatively old), and more overall life experience, I’m often described by my coworkers and friends as “very friendly and often happy”. Of course, according my sibling-like co-scoundrels in my cube farm, I am “disgustingly upbeat” - but they say it with love because they know I’ll tease them relentlessly, too.

I have found over the years that I have actually changed down to the core of that grade school girl. I’ve gone from a kid who struggled to make friends and who was seen as unapproachable, to a person who can very quickly establish good rapport. 

(side note: holy fuck I just realized I went from Dandere to Deredere... I’m a fuckin’ anime side character, shit)

Kind of the best example of what I mean is an interaction I had with a new massage therapist at this place I had a gift card for. That is to say, a complete and total stranger whom I had never interacted with or seen in the past. The shop I was at had you wait in the reception area with the receptionist until the RMT came to get you. So this dude came out to meet me, introduced himself and we chatted easily for a bit. After not even a minute of us chatting, he and I were laughing together and shared an easy chemistry. The receptionist - remember, who’d been there when the RMT and I introduced ourselves for the first time - then asked me “oh, are you two old friends?” to which he and I laughed and said “no, we’re just friendly”.

Anyways - that’s the context.

I’m a friendly gal. Sociable, a bit charming, easy going, and easily able to manipulate her own behaviours in order to make the other person feel more comfortable.

In Harry Potter-code: I’m a Slytherin who can play a Hufflepuff, but only because it gets me what I want - your cooperation and rapport - more easily. However, I also do genuinely mean those nice Hufflepuff-like actions - just, there’s an ulterior motive attached.

I’m also young, and obviously with South Pacific Islander blood in me (exotic features - I’ve been told I’d be cast in Miss Saigon if they ever did a musical in my city - I took it as as compliment, since I’m friends with the old white dude who told me that and he did mean it as a compliment).

Let’s put this together:

Exotic, tan-skinned young woman

Chatty, friendly, skilled at making people feel comfortable

Can make someone feel like an old friend

Easily self-deprecating and humourous

In a Starbucks with chatty retired old dudes and a lot of shared seating

Can anyone else see why my title makes more sense? (Legit, I am high, so if it doesn’t make sense, that makes sense)

Lemme spell it out for you bois: I’m an old perverted white man’s wet dream.

(yes, I’ve been told such to my face; yes, I believe from experience that most of the people who won’t believe me are straight young men - not out of malice, I think, but out of a belief that people aren’t that bad [not that old men finding young women attractive is bad - acting on it in certain ways however, can be]).

I’ve worked out of the Starbucks I mentioned several times in the past. As a consultant, I have a measure of flexibility in my schedule and I find I work best on some of my problem solving and documentation work when I’m out of the office. The change of scenery and the need to shut out the environment to “see” my work helps me - plus I don’t get drawn into the co-scoundrel shenanigans.

And I’m not kidding you - 8/10 times that I go there, I make a new old white man friend. Even the bi dude I met (srsly, it feels like since I made the decision to be openly out, I’m meeting more and more bi people everywhere when before there was nobody) was an old white dude.

I fuckin’ love it.

I am a young, bi woman of colour who loves having old white man friends. 

Because they’re just as chill, non-judgemental, self-deprecating, sociable, and easy-going as I am. And they appreciate my dad jokes and bi puns. Seriously. Dads everywhere - we all secretly love your jokes.

And, y’know what? I think more young women - LGBTQ or not, PoC or not - should want to have old white dudes as friends. 

INB4 tumblrinas: I don’t mean resurrect Hitler and be his gal pal. I mean don’t dismiss a possible friend just because they’re old, white, and have a dick. Use your brain - not every human is good, but likewise, not every human is bad. We come in shades in all ways.

I won’t tell you what to do, because I don’t know. What I want to share with you is why I feel the way I do. And let you do what you will with it - because I’m not interested in changing your mind. I’m interesting in trading stories and adventures - and understanding more about each other through that exchange.

Here’s why I love being open to talking to old white dudes:

Dad jokes. I’m not kidding. I love Dad Jokes.

They’re often past the point of giving a shit about society, so if you have a genuine, good-natured conversation about your point of view, chances as they won’t give a shit as long as you’re happy and no one’s dying.

They have amazing stories. I can’t tell you the number of times a new friend of mine has launched into crazy tales of things they got up to when they were younger.

They have great advice. Often, they’ve made some pretty bad mistakes. And they’re all too happy to share their lessons and spare someone else the trouble.

They often just want a chat. They don’t need a new friend, they don’t want your number, they just want a lively conversation with someone who isn’t gonna call the cops on them.

It’s so freakin’ easy to make their day and make them smile. And the genuine surprise when they find a young chickie they’ve no doubt had to weigh the pros-and-cons of talking to, who is easy-going and as happy to make their acquaintance as they are hers? It’s so cute. Old man smiles are so cute.

They respect you for being unapologetically who you are. They know that they’ve invited themselves into a talk with you - and they’re willing to carry and/or exit that talk if they find you being openly yourself. (which means if “yourself” is a fuckwit, they’ll just drop you if they know what’s good for ‘em; but then you’re just a fuckwit in Starbucks)

I guess for more location context, I should add that I live in Canada; it’s not an uncommon occurrence here for spontaneous conversations to happen. It might be more rare in other places, though. My city is also quite progressive and has a fairly active and supported LGBTQ scene.

All this said, it’s just a really nice experience in my mind to have good relationships (passing conversations, spontaneous coffee clubs, casual friendships, or more serious friendships) with old dudes as a young woman.

It’s like having a legion of second father figures, or uncles, more accurately fun drunkles, and older brothers. 

I enjoy several significant friendships with old dudes:

I go for coffee almost every week with two white old dudes and a dudette (I’d say “old” but she’d punch me out): our conversations range from politics to wood relationships to name calling to sibling-like teasing.

I have three co-scoundrels at work that I’m close friends with, all are old men. None are in a position to help me with anything at work, but damn are they hilarious and they’re a ready Friday-afternoon morale boost with their antics.

I have a very close old Japanese-Canadian friend. We have a complicated and somewhat tense relationship, but ultimately I think it can be said that we have a certain platonic love for each other. Though we don’t speak frequently, we’re both very significant to the other. He was my taiko instructor.

I have another very close relationship with one of my long-standing old dude friends. He’s known me since I was 9. A single hug from this man can stop an anxiety attack in its tracks. We kiss each other on the cheek and like to weird out the ladies at Starbucks when we go there with each other by holding hands - we’re both Slytherin trolls.

Don’t forget the OG Old Guy: my proper Old Man. My papa. Our relationship was strained by my mother’s unhealthy approach to all her familial relations during my early years. But as I’ve moved out, gotten older, and gained more life experience, it feels like my dad is finally realizing I’m not a little girl anymore - that I’m a woman, with woman needs, woman wants, and woman expectations and behaviours. We don’t talk about all things, naturally, he’s still my dad. But I can’t tell you how great it feels to have a dad who I know has my back no matter what.

I feel like there’s a certain conditioning for young women to “fear” the “old white man”. Certainly for me in particular it feels like there’s lots of factors in play: my “tropical” ethnicity, my youth, my LGBTQ nature (still haven’t been asked for a threesome as a bi woman - I’m impressed with my city), and, naturally, my gender.

While I do know that those are all things that certainly do warrant a certain amount of wariness around strangers (old in my neighborhoods usually means highly conservative about, depending on the age of said person, “the immigrants” or “the non-whites”. Age from young-old to old-ass-old. They’re a product of their time.), I also think it’s vital not to let that wariness get in the way of making a possible new friend.

Anyways, I need to wrap this up.

How does this loop back into #authenticity and weed? Well, it’s been my experience that the old (white + some Asians, in my case) dude friends that I’ve made are some of the best people to help you be yourself.

They have anecdotes to illustrate benefits, cons, risks, and rewards; they have dad jokes and puns to bring some much-needed levity; they don’t give a fuck about the other Starbucks goers - for better or for worse; and they - just like you - just wanna have a good day and be able to be themselves.

Does this apply to every old man? No. Does it not apply to every old man? No.

If you’ve read this far, you have the brain capacity necessary to give someone a chance. Now, you’ll wanna do some preparation if this is nearing your max capacity, because you wanna make sure you’re not letting the wrong old man come talk to you all friendly-like. 

But once you find one who’s just a swell dude? Cut ‘im some slack, maybe remember that he’s struggling to speak your vocabulary as much as you’re struggling to understand his. 

Sit back, drink some coffee, smoke a joint, and share a story once in a while.

Anyways. That’s been SpaceCharr Pontificating.

Cheers, buds.

Stoner note:  My hand rolling’s gotten so much better. And the weed I have doesn’t seem to smell as strongly as the pre-roll I had that one time, so I might sesh in the park at some point. I have my inaugural shroom trip this weekend - bestie agreed to tripsit! Yay! And she’s bringing the whole Planet Earth HD collection! - so it might not be for a while. I want to give the experience the attention it deserves, plus I need to establish a clean baseline to experiment accurately with microdosing.

[heaveninholland]

Better Than Before  //   Part Two

Summary: Coming home almost 2 years after what happened has you more on edge than you expect but what’s more than unexpected is when a Holland boy changes the meaning of home to you.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: There might be a swear word or two. Enjoy!

                    Part Two    //    New Arrival

After next to no sleep, you wake up the next morning thankful that you don’t have to push those horrible memories aside just to get some sleep. You jump out of bed, forgetting how cold it gets in the morning so you change into your leggings and your favourite sweater. It doesn’t take long before you hear a knock at your bedroom door,

“Hey sweetheart, you up?” you hear your fathers muffled voice through the door.

“Yup, come in.” you say as you sit on the edge of your bed, pulling your fluffy socks on.

Your father opens the door slightly and peaks his head around it. His face lighting up as he sees you, making you realise how much you missed each other since you’d been at university.

“Breakfast is up in the kitchen. Mum and I have to nip out to.. pick up a few things before everything turns pre-christmas crazy out there, but Pops and Harry are down there plating up.” he says, not hiding the fact very well that they’ve once again left their Christmas present shopping till three days before Christmas. You get up off the bed, heading downstairs behind your dad.

“We’ll be back in no time, hopefully.” your mum says as she gives you a good morning/goodbye kiss. They close the door behind them and you head around to the kitchen to see Poppy and Harry sitting so close together on the bench seat of the dining room table that they may as well be sitting on one another. Both too taken by each other to notice you entering the room.

“Good morning, you two!” you say as you enter the kitchen, a cheeky grin crossing your face. Poppy jumps at the sound of your voice and looks up at you whilst inching away from Harry slightly, with a visible blush tinting Harry’s cheeks.

You dish yourself up some breakfast, opting for fresh fruit and a piece of toast before sitting down on the table opposite them. Their blushing having subsided, they relaxed into conversation and you all talked over breakfast about nothing in particular. It was nice to see your sister happy like this, she was always happy but not this kind of happy. It was a welcome distraction from the night you had last night that was full of sickening memories, making it feel like it all happened yesterday. You had all finished breakfast and you volunteered to wash up, Harry for the second time since you meet him offering to help. Poppy decided to take this opportunity to shower and get ready for the day. It made you realise how none of the people you had dated had ever been this polite and invested in small family-like tasks.

“So what are your plans for the day, Y/N?” Harry asks, seemingly more comfortable than when you first entered the room, after the random conversations over breakfast.

“I’m not really sure, I think I might wait to see my friends until after Christmas so I don’t really have anything planned till then.” you respond with a happy shrug, content with just staying home.

“Well, if you like, Poppy and I are thinking of going out to pick up some last minute gifts and having a movie night at my place afterwards. You’re more than welcome to join us.” he says excitingly. Harry had grown a liking to you in the 24 hours or so of knowing you and seemed really excited to have an almost - non related - big sister in his life. He could definitely see bits of you in Poppy and some of those bits were his favourite things about Poppy, so getting along with you was incredibly easy.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude or third wheel a movie date!” you say, a little apprehensive to cut into Harry and Poppy’s time together.

“You wouldn’t be! Poppy’s missed you heaps and I know she wants to spend as much time with you as possible before you go back to uni.” he says, looking up at you reassuringly and saying without saying that Poppy has talked nonstop about how she misses you and how much you mean to her. Finishing up the dishes and folding away the tea towels, you think for a minute.

“Oh well, in that case I guess I could fit you guys in to my day.” you say with a laugh. Harry unfolds the tea towel he had perfectly folded, twists it and tries to whip you with it but you dodge it just in time. Before you can grab your towel to start an all out war you hear footsteps enter the kitchen.

“Now, if anyones going to win that battle it would be me.” Poppy says in amidst a laugh, the fondness in her eyes becoming more visible as she walks closer. You could tell as soon as Poppy had introduced the both of you that she was worried about the two of you not getting along, after all you were her big sister and your approval mattered more than most. Both you and Harry share a look and without a word you both wind up your tea towels and fling them towards Poppy. You raise your arms up in a truce whilst fighting your laughter shared with Harry at Poppy’s squeal.

“Alright, alright. I’m going to go get ready.” you say, leaving them both in the kitchen to fight out whatever playful war that was brewing.

After having a shower, you chuck on some black jeans, a white t-shirt, your leather jacket, red scarf and your favourite black boots and head out with Poppy and Harry. All three of you pile into Harry’s car and drive it back to Harry’s house before you all walk the short distance to the train station. There was no way that two days out before Christmas you would even dare to drive into and around Central London, let alone on just any other day. 

You forgot how much you missed home as you all got off the train and walked out of the station. Walking down the street, one after the other because walking side by side would be pointless with the amount of people busily walking around you. All of you spent the time browsing in shops, aimlessly wandering around since Harry hadn’t bought presents for his brothers and had no idea where to even start looking. 

You all entered a boutique little stationary shop because you, Poppy and your mother all had an unhealthy obsession with buying notebooks that you would never write in, pencil cases you would never fill up completely and books with pretty covers that you would never read and would gather dust on the coffee table.

“Actually, this might be perfect!” Harry says, louder than expected as he walks quickly towards a display full of tacky movie paraphernalia in the ‘back to school’ section. He holds up a Spider-Man phone case, that looked pretty heavy duty to Poppy and she laughed. You looked between them, a little confused at whatever inside joke they were playing off and they caught your facial expression after they stopped laughing.

“My brother loves Spider-Man but is TERRIBLE at taking care of his phone and still hasn’t bought a new one. So whenever he does, we’ll make sure it lasts.” Harry says with a smirk. Seeing it as more of a joke than an actual present, he buys it with the intention of getting something else but he couldn’t give up the opportunity to have a joke. You all leave the store before you and your sister go stationary crazy and use the excuse of ‘It’s for Mums Christmas present’. Hopping from shop to shop, taking photos together on your adventures and before you all knew it, you had empty stomachs, hands full of shopping bags and a very dark sky above.

“So I think it’s about time we head back because I need a couch and a pizza asap.” Harry says, taking Poppy’s bags off of her to carry them.

“That sounds like a dream. Are you going to join us? It’s movie night? And there’ll be food..” Poppy says in a way, that is half bribery and half guilt tripping.

“You know me, I can never turn down food and a movie!” you say, offering to take some of the bags Harry was carrying with a nudge since you only had one. He declines but gives you a soft smile as thanks and you all continue on to the train station and towards Harry’s house. Before you arrive to Harry’s place you receive a text from your mum,

“We’ve just arrived home to an empty house! Where are you all?  Are you okay? Should we wait up for dinner? xx”

“Yeah sorry, our shopping ran a little late as well. I’m with Poppy and Harry now, heading to Harry’s for a movie night so don’t wait up for us 💕” you walk slightly behind Poppy and Harry, slowing down to reply.

“Alright love, well text Dad when you’re ready to come home and he can come to get you and Poppy, if she isn’t staying over. Lots of love xo” she replies, quicker than usual, obviously not distracted by anything else and slightly worried about where you had gone. 

Your mum had a way of worrying about you but never showing it, unbeknown to her, you could tell how she subtly showed it but it just made it all the more obvious. Since what had happened almost 2 years ago, your parents had never felt the same whenever they didn’t see you home, so now they never second guess to text you to make sure you’re alright.

“Alright, will do xxx”    

Locking your phone and stuffing it back into your jacket pocket, you walk up the front steps to Harry’s house. You hadn’t realised how far you had fallen behind them until you saw Poppy waiting for you with the door open, you can imagine her heart would’ve skipped a beat too when she realised you weren’t right behind them. These are things you wondered whether Harry knew about, it felt highly likely he did, since you were so far away at university which made it harder for your family to be able to make sure you’re okay.

“Hurry up little snail, we have pizza orders to make, pronto.” she says as you slide past her into the warm hallway of the Holland house. You wait for Poppy to take the lead because you’re not the best with directions let alone walking through a house you’ve never been in before.

“Mum Dad, this is Poppy’s sister, Y/N!” Harry says excitingly as you enter the living area, following Poppy.

“Oh it’s so nice to finally meet you! We’ve heard so much about you!” Harry’s mum comes towards you and gives you a big hug.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Holland.” you respond after being released from her very motherly hug.

“Please, call me Nikki.” she replies, laughing slightly at being called, so formally, by her last name.

“You two could almost be twins! I’m Dom, it’s lovely to meet you Y/N.” Dom, Harry’s father says as he comes forward to greet you similarly as Nikki did seconds ago.

“We were going to have a takeout and movie night in tonight, do you guys wanna join?” Poppy asks Dom and Nikki.

“No, no sweetheart, you guys enjoy yourselves. We had an early dinner and it’s looking like an early night for us, we have another crazy one joining us in the early hours of tomorrow.” Nikki says with a wink and gives Poppy a side cuddle.

“Alright you two, we have some important decisions to make.” Harry says, turning around, bypassing the fridge for the takeout pamphlets and heading towards the couch.

“Yes sir.” you say as you salute jokingly.

After much deliberation and waiting, you had all settled on a movie to watch and managed to pick out a food everyone felt like without ripping each other to pieces in hunger.

“So whats the plan for New Years, you little party animal?” Poppy said as you all started to lay out the delivered food on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“I think Serena’s having a party at hers so I might end up there depending on what your plans are. I did come to see you guys, after all.” you reply, unsure of what you even felt like doing but you knew it was approaching fast and you’d have to make up your mind sooner or later. For some odd reason, you were very  apprehensive to see your friends again since it had been so long and everything to do with him somehow always gets brought up into conversation. I guess that’s what you were avoiding.

“Can we come to Serena’s party with you? All of our friends decided to take a trip to some greek island but because of Harry’s brother, Tom coming home we had to stay-“ Poppy starts, butted in by Harry,

“You didn’t have to stay Pop, I told you that. It’s just my brother would’ve killed me if I wasn’t here to spend time with him whilst I could."

“I know but I wanted to stay with you these holidays, silly.” Poppy says, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek, making a very content smile cross over Harry’s face.

“Regardless, of course you guys can come. I’m sure everyone would be just as excited to see you, Pop’s, as they would me.” you reply, trying to make yourself feel less of a third wheel.

“Not true, I know they’ve missed you heaps and they’ve seen me in passing every now and again. It’s not like most of them don’t live just down the road from us.” she says, brushing off your attempt at putting yourself down. You knew your friends loved you but there was some residual tension left over from what had happened and how you had pushed them away slightly.

“I’m excited to see how Poppy lets her hair down around her sister because if she ends up the way she does without you, I can’t wait to see how she is around family!” Harry jokes, earning a pinch from Poppy and he returns with a toothy grin.

“It should be a very interesting night, most definitely.” you say breaking off a piece of garlic bread in the hopes that you can all start eating before the food gets too cold. That’s when you realise that you’ve obviously picked that up from your mother and smile to yourself as the other two get the hint and you start the movie.

You hardly last half the movie by the time you’re taking up one of the couches, asleep. You faintly hear your sisters voice as you stir,

“I’ll text mum and dad and let them know that we’ll crash here tonight.” Poppy whispers. “Do you want me to come with you to pick Tom up?” 

“No, no. Pop on another movie, in case Y/N wakes up and I’ll be home before you know it. It won’t take long.” Harry whispers back and with a quick kiss he’s gone. Next thing, a movie starts playing and it doesn’t take Poppy long to fall asleep on the sofa next to you.

You wake up very suddenly, thankful that it wasn’t because of another crazy dream - or memory. You search for your phone in the dim light of the TV screen and find it to be on charge - your sister is too good. 3:49am You see as you light up your phone, seconds later you hear footsteps outside and keys going into the lock of the front door. It takes you a minute to realise what’s going on,  processing the conversation between Poppy and Harry which you weren’t sure was a dream or real life and the fact the Poppy is right next to you, fast asleep but people are coming through the door. You look over to Poppy who wakes to the sound of the front door unlocking, opening her eyes with a sleepy smile, knowing that Harry is back home. She looks up to see that you’re awake too.

“Hey.” she whispers with another sleepy smile.

You hear stumbling and tripping in the darkness and the odd swear word as the stranger was finding their feet in the night. The light flicks on in the hallway and all you can see is a silently laughing Harry and an unfamiliar looking boy picking himself up off the floor.

“What an entrance!” Harry says, mid laugh trying to keep as quiet as possible. Earning him a roll of the eyes and stern look, from who you can assume to be the older brother, Tom that they’ve mentioned on and off since you got here.

“Alright mate, don’t wake Mum and Dad up.” Tom says, trying to play it off as if nothing happened after noticing it wasn’t just Harry and himself in the room.

“I could say the same for you, bro.” Harry said, still trying to calm his laughter.

“It’s good to see you again, Tom!” Poppy says, as she jumps up to give him a hug.

“Good to see you too Poppy! How have you been?” Tom responds, releasing her from the hug as she moved away. Poppy began on a tangent of what they’ve all been up to but Tom seemed a little distracted by you, aka the stranger, on the living room couch in his family home. Every time he glanced at you it left a little flutter somewhere in your torso but you couldn’t pin it to be in your chest or in your stomach but there was something about his gaze that your body couldn’t help but react to.

“Oh, crap! I’m so rude! Sorry! This is my sister, Y/N.” Poppy says, cutting off her rambling after noticing Tom’s gaze was leading straight to you. You nor Tom had realised you were staring at each other until now, you snapped your eyes away whilst getting up and walking over.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” Tom says with a smile, reaching out his hand for what you think is a hand shake but quickly realise is a hug. He holds onto your waist, giving you a kiss hello to your cheek and you hope to god you aren’t visibly blushing as he pulls away.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Tom.” you smile.

With that, Harry claps his hands and helps his brother with his bags and they both go up the stairs, leaving you and Poppy in the living room. You can’t help but notice the slight burning sensation left behind from where Tom grabbed your waist, with a slight pressure, pulling you in and you can’t tell whether it’s you blushing or the feeling of his lips touching your cheek that you’re feeling.

“Someone looks a little flustered.” Poppy says with a smirk, elbowing you in the side. Now you definitely know there’s no hiding the pink in your cheeks.

Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be tagged! I’d love to get any feedback!

                                                          -  H  xo

[dentelle-grise]

Your Latest Trick - Chapter 20

(Loki x Reader NSFW) Long after everyone has stopped talking about Loki and his misdemeanors, his failed attempt to take over Midgard and his punishment, you meet him at a party.

All chapters to date at AO3 (50K, NC-17) Tagging my rebloggers, commenters and other folk who asked. Please let me know if you want in (or out) of the list: @joanbushur,@frenchfrostpudding, @lovely-geek, @wolfsmom1, @sigridlaufeyson, @lokislonelylady, @monitoroutside, @daniissuchadani, @devilbat, @deadlydreamersecrets @helenisabel, @stardustandangelsfanfiction, @ely-seum, @wendyrobson1978, @the-ships-i-ship, @shemart101, @dreamourbrainout, @sadghostomg

Chapter 20

He’s gone again and you’re none the wiser as to where.

You roll into the warm space he left and doze. Imagine a safe place he’d said. So this is what you have – a nest, an invisible print on your skin, and a warm hole left in the bed. Every night when he comes to you you forget the strangeness of the situation with the comfort of his nearness.

There’s a faint tapping. Far off to start with, then louder, like someone walking closer. By the time you are awake enough to recognize knocking on your door it’s become an agitated banging accompanied by yells.

“Open up. I know you’re in there.” comes a woman’s voice.

You sigh, slip out of bed and pad around barefoot looking for your robe as there comes another bang. You pull open the door and there’s Sif in full battledress, a quarterstaff in her hand.

“Too early.” you groan. Now Sif is someone you’ve known since forever but you’d hardly say you were close, certainly not close enough for her to knock you up first thing in the morning to go and spar. And anyway, after your performance the last time, you hardly think you’d make her a worthy adversary.

“He’s here isn’t he?” Sif looks murderous and you’re glad she’s not carrying anything sharp.

“Who?”

But your word is spoken to empty space as she’s already pushed past you into your rooms. “What?” What presumption. This is your home. How dare she. You follow in her wake. Then you see what she sees.

There’s towels strewn around the floor, your clothes from yesterday in a heap, and the bed looks like someone had a fight in it. The door to the bathroom stands open displaying the bath still full and a couple of burnt-down candles.

She looks at you skeptically, paying particular attention to your collarbone where you know there’s a bruise, even though it was from the training the other day and quite possibly her work.

Who is she looking for? If it’s Loki then he’s long gone, but there’s no reason she’d be searching for Loki. None except a prickle of your conscience and the fear that there’s more to his secret than he’s let on.

Turning from you, she creeps toward the closet.

“What? Sif! Stop!”

With the point of her staff she pushes back the row of hanging dresses. She runs it all the way along, setting them swinging while you stand there speechless, your outrage unheeded. Then she turns with a huff and paces back toward the bed. The bedclothes are all bunched where you pushed them aside. Sif takes her staff and gives the bundle a less-than-gentle poke.

To your shock and her satisfaction there’s a yelp from within. “Got you.” breathes Sif.

What is he doing still here? He was gone. The idiot. Why is he back if he doesn’t want to get caught?

“Well what have we here? Fandr-”

She flips the sheets revealing a head of dark hair and stops short in shock, missing the wince you make.

Later you will remember guiltily that in that precise moment, as well as the terror at discovery, you also felt an intense sense of relief - that the secret was out, that you didn’t have to pretend anymore.

But right now, the figure rises, throwing back the sheets flamboyantly and it’s your turn for a shock. It’s not Loki.

It’s a woman, with raven hair, a red-painted mouth and large bare breasts she has no shame in displaying.

Sif has no shame in staring either, though it’s probably out of surprise. For a moment no one says anything and the woman stretches luxuriantly and smiles at you both.

“Why don’t you try the kitchens.” The woman says, flicking back her long black locks. “Perhaps he was looking for something sweet.” The last word drips honey and ice and Sif looks on in shock a second longer, before turning without a word and tearing out of the room. The bed’s occupant grins wickedly.

“Ooooh! someone’s in trouble.” She breaks into laughter. Familiar laughter. There’s only one way she could have gotten there.

“Loki!?” It wasn’t the voice that tipped you off or even the words but the whole set up, the trick and it’s recklessness. Now you search the woman’s face for his features, morphed into someone else, but still strangely recognizable. And there they are, when you know what to look for. And there, around her neck, is the pendant, it’s color a smoky violet but it’s form unmistakable. You’re staring, incredulous.

“What?” Loki looks at you innocently, her larger eyes blinking slowly and fuller mouth pouting slightly. “I saw her heading up here and thought I’d have little fun.”

She climbs out of bed and strolls towards the closet, considerably shorter in stature, with a figure that defies belief - breasts very full, a tiny waist and broad, curvaceous hips.

“Loki, what is this? I mean, who are you?”

“What this?” she makes a grandiose gesture to her body, turning to display delicate shoulders, rose-pink nipples. “Why, this is me.”

“You’re not impersonating some… friend?”

“Oh no. I’m not imitating anyone.”

You struggle with the idea a moment. Loki is also a woman? Or can pretend to be a woman? You find those curves rather unrealistic to tell the truth. They look more like how a man might idealize a woman than any true woman you’ve ever seen. You get a picture of adolescent Loki dreaming this up, sketching out this fantasy on the corner of a spell book.

“You mean you designed yourself a female self, you sat down and drew a woman-“

“I not drawn. This is just the way I am.”

Loki’s clearly very proud of this form and not remotely shy – with a deliberate swing of the hips as she approaches your clothes. Unlike Loki’s male form, her body is unmarred by scars, it’s perfect, her skin has the same glowing paleness and her hair is the same bottomless black.

She touches one of your dresses and it appears instantly on her body.

It doesn’t fit in quite the same way as it does on you. Of course not. It’s obviously tighter around the bust, and there is more of her shoulders on view. She’s changed it, by magic.

“Hummm.” She looks at herself in the mirror, then moves on to the next outfit, a pale blue one, one you always found a bit too modest and serious. She performs a transformation so there’s more cleavage visible and a slit up the leg to the upper thigh.

“I remember the first time when Thor went into battle.” Loki says as she admires her work. “I was left behind.” You watch her expression, - scheming - the same and somehow not.

“So I chose to ‘welcome home the warriors’ instead. Like this.” She points to herself, now in gold and russet, skin paled to translucent by the strength of the color.

At least five of them the first night.” She gives a little shudder of delight that makes her breasts jiggle, and adds. “Something you’d know a bit about.”

Struggling to maintain your composure and treat this new development like something quite reasonable and normal, you protest. “Oh no, never more than one at a time, that’s a waste of men.”

“Warriors.” Loki corrects. Letting the word hang there. She’s grinning again, teeth white and dangerous against the red of those lips.

Loki changes into a green dress now, one you don’t know, so you guess it’s one of her own called from some magical wardrobe. The neckline is a huge V in front, diving between those ample breasts and mirrored by one at the back that almost reaches the cleavage there too.

“Mother and Father found out of course.” she continues. “I made sure of it.” Now she’s smiling smugly. “And strangely enough, the next time, I was allowed to go and fight alongside Thor.” She examines her nails, which are polished a black so shiny she’s probably admiring herself in them.

“But it’s still of great use to me to be able to change. For a start, it’s far easier to find company for the night like this.” She smirks and you don’t know if its complicity or flirtation. Both perhaps. “In fact,” she says slowly, looking you full in the eye as though to be sure she’s understood. “I find a lover every time I take this form.”

That expression you’d know whatever form Loki chose to take. You don’t know if what you feel is fear or attraction. To push it home she adds.

“I’ve no objection to ‘non-warriors’.”

It’s that moment that the penny drops about ‘warriors’ rather than men. Could she possibly mean Sif? That Sif and Loki…, no Sif and Lady Loki…? And without Sif even knowing who she was.

Sif’s reaction just now takes on a whole new meaning and you feel a ripple of fear – or is that jealousy? – run though you.

And Sif ran out of here thinking what about you and this woman?!

Still, those huge green eyes are waiting and watching. You must be the picture of confusion.

“I could turn you into a man, you know”

“What! No!”

“Don’t you want to know what it’s like?” She’s taken a step closer.“You might enjoy it.” And she leers at you as though she most certainly would. Your stomach drops.

“No. Please.” The idea of you both being other people is too much.

“You’d prefer if we both stayed the way we are now?” her eyes flash.

“Change back.” you insist. “I want the real you.”

“But this is the real me.” She reaches out to you. “Does this form make you uncomfortable.” Well there it is. It’s not something you’ve given much thought to. It’s not as if there were opportunities. Unless you count that one time Sif ‘mistook you for Thor’…

“You mean you’ve never.” She stops before she touches you as though you might startle, as though you were something infinitely desirable but sacred. “Oh but what fun we could have…”

“But Loki. I want the real real you.”

There’s a flicker of something across her face. Disappointment? Even though this is Loki, you don’t know these morphed features well enough to read their expression. But then her eyes crinkle and her face breaks into a mischievous smile you recognize very well. “You know what you like then.” While you’re beginning to have some doubts in that area, her implication is as lewd and as clear as if she’d made a gesture to go with it.

“But, any time you want to try…” she gives you a wink and in an instant changes back to the form you know, body drawing out, flattening, filling out differently. He regains his usual height, his usual garb and all at once radiates a different sort of power. You have a moment of regret for his other self, the full mouth and large eyes, the rounder everything, and hope after all that you haven’t seen the last of her…

He draws you into his arms right away and the familiarity is a balm, but you’re still on edge from the ruse, from the conversation,from the things you didn’t say or dare. Your heart is hammering already and he’s hardly touched you. He slides a crafty hand inside your robe and you melt into him. When he feels how wet you already, he he challenges, “So you do like me in my other form.” He starts to work you with his hand and it becomes impossible to think of a clever answer if there ever was one.

“I thought so.” He delves deeper and you cling to him. All of a sudden he stops and pulls away his hand. He holds it up so you can see it glistening. “What did that? I wonder.” He licks a moist finger and raises an eyebrow as you squirm. “Which one of my wicked ideas took root?” He feigns idle curiosity, returns his hand to its work and with the crook of a finger sets you writhing against him.

“Just. You.” You force out, breathless despite your immobility.

You expect him to disrobe you, to take you to bed, but no, he continues relentlessly with his fingers until you are begging. It’s not just him, though. It’s everything he’s been saying and doing. The unrealized possibilities and your imagination.

“You are enticingly curious if not courageous.” He breathes

You’re frustratingly aroused and unsettled and mad at yourself and confused and mad at Sif or jealous or afraid of her, or of yourself. You don’t know. You want to drown it all out in him; just want him to take you and let you forget the rest.

Outside, a bell is ringing. The day has started without you but in this instant you don’t care, if only Loki would… crush your body to the bed with is own. But he continues his slow massaging accompanied with deep kissing till he has you past a point where there is only want left and you cease caring how you get there. You just want him to make you come. He brushes off your attempts to please him. He does not relent, just keeps playing at a steady, frustrating rhythm and it’s driving you crazy, the fire mounting unstoppably but so so slowly, and more powerfully for it. Just as you give up waiting for him to take you to bed, he pulls your robe fully open cups your breasts with his hands while he kisses you. The one hand is wet with you and he slides his thumb over and over the nipple while thrusting his tongue down your throat. You can feel him hard under his clothes, but then you’re overcome by the culmination of your desire. You can’t stop bucking and shaking and crying. He just keeps on playing until as you come apart in his arms. When finally you are silent and still and weak and spent he lays you on the bed, grinning cheekily and, for the first time since his return, vanishes taking nothing for himself.

Chapter 21

[thesubtextmachine]

When @persongoingfast talks about supporting non-snippy fanfic and you write  a low-quality angst piece about friends growing apart (except not really??) reblog if you can relate. Also here it is:

…

Harriet Driscoll snaps the photo on her disposable camera, knowing that the flash and noise would make Buffy's head snap up from her work.

The picture was glorious, nonetheless. It was Buffy, clad in stained jeans and an oversized sweatshirt and propped up by her elbows on the fuzzy carpeted floor of the living room, surrounded by stark white application papers and the occasional pop of a colorful post-it note as she organized and wrote notes and was generally brilliant.

The logo of "Montgomery Preparatory School" was emblazoned on almost every paper, and Harriet couldn't help but marvel at what her small eighth grader daughter was capable of. Harriet knew that her daughter was trying to keep this application casual, but if she knew anything about her daughter, she knew that Buffy was launching her entire essence into every handwritten line of her essay.

Harriet was the artsy parent of the family, hence the disposable camera (an aesthetic choice) and status as the only person in the family who understood why Buffy didn't want to tell her best friends about this application. She knew that Buffy wanted this application, whether or not it led to her going to Montgomery for her high school years, to be her journey and her journey alone, without the help or otherwise of her friends. She also knew that Buffy, even if Buffy didn't know this herself, was afraid of what wasn't being accomplished on her part because of her friends (Harriet didn't want to use the phrase "dragging Buffy down", because Buffy would've gotten angry at her for even thinking that).

Harriet knew that whether or not Buffy got in, Buffy was seeking options to get out. As Harriet snapped the photo, her mind passively wished that Buffy would stay like this forever: following her destiny without the knowledge of what she'd be leaving behind.

… Buffy's fingers are nervous, shaking as she takes the badly-lit picture on her phone and sends it to the group chat.

It's an acceptance letter that she hasn't read all of the way, but she recognizes the buzzwords: "accept", "scholarship", "invite", "congratulations".

She promised herself, directly after she left the room where she did her interview, that she would have to pretend that, of she got in, she would tell them in person. She would pass the letter around over a bowl of baby taters and smile like she wasn't about to abandon the best friends she ever had for the opportunities that this fancy prep school would give her.

She decides instead, whilst holding the letter delicately, that a group chat would be better. At least in a group chat, the Do Not Disturb button is an option.

Buffy waits for what seems like forever but really lasts as long as the Law and Order episode that she watches to distract herself to check her phone, and she finds that the responses to her text in the group chat go (in order) from confusion to reluctant joy to worry about her lack of an answer. Buffy writes that she left her phone alone and would definitely be going to the school. She promises to keep in touch with the gang, sincerity evident in every letter. She sighs with relief and begins to text excitedly. The night wears on, questions are asked and answered, and slowly each one of them goes to bed. Buffy is the last one awake, having been blessed with a lenient bedtime and boundless energy.

She retakes the photo, so it's less blurry and better lit and posts it on her Instagram account, taking pleasure in every like and congratulatory comment. Buffy signed her share of the paperwork that confirmed her spot in the freshman class, and placed the rest on the counter, adorned with a neon pink post-it asking her parents to sign their share.

She goes to bed smiling, and almost wants to take a picture of this moment, even though she doesn't know what there is to take a picture of or how to convey her feelings with a photo. She tries to formulate how, and she goes to sleep with her mind swimming in color combinations and photo compositions that would somehow let the world feel what she feels.

… Eight grade graduation is a bittersweet affair, and it's best captured from Cyrus' mom's phone.

The picture's of the Good Hair Crew, with their wrists joined to display matching friendship bracelets. Andi's arm was crowded with bracelets, and their group bracelet had to be picked out from the bunch. Buffy's was well worn and faded, and Cyrus' looked practically new. They all had visibly misty eyes, and Andi's eye makeup (applied by Bex) pooled under her eyes. Buffy's eye makeup, on the other hand, was streaked horizontally, like she was busy swiping it away. They all clung tightly to each other, but they somehow managed to have smiles on their faces. The biggest and most genuine one belonged to Buffy.

This photo was shared and printed and framed by the entire Good Hark Crew, despite the inherent sorrow of it.

… The photo, taken once again with Harriet's disposable camera, is of Buffy. It's a classic "first day" picture, with her adorned in the burgundy and plaid uniform of Montgomery. Buffy shines in nervous anticipation, and she nervously runs her thumb across the handle of her lunchbox. When Harriet and Derreck Driscoll shuffle her into position in front of their car, Buffy rolls her eyes as if she's too cool and her noticeably uncool parents are being uncool. Nonetheless, a photo is taken and the pair gleefully drive Buffy to school, asking her questions that she doesn't know the answer to yet ("how do you feel?""will you need more for lunch?""are you nervous?")

When Harriet and Derreck get home after dropping Buffy off, they simultaneously let out a long sigh. Quietly, some tea is made and they sit down at the coffee table. The weight of the change hangs on them.

"I wish I could look at the picture you took," Derreck says, simply.

"Me too. I don't know what she's feeling."

"It's probably pretty close to what we're feeling. Y'know, scared but excited. Happy but sad. Whatever it feels like to miss something but also wish that it never happened in the first place."

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

"Of course, Harriet. She wouldn't be Buffy if she doesn't take this and turn it into something amazing," Derreck says, taking a worried sip of his tea.

"I think she may be handling this better than we are."

"I don't doubt that for a second."

… Buffy's first friend is named Leslie, and they become friends quickly and loudly. The first picture of Buffy shows up on Leslie's social media (Snapchat, to be specific) when they're working on their homework together outside. Buffy is hard at work, furiously scribbling away at her math problem, but Leslie has reached peak annoyance with her homework. She pulls out her phone, and takes a picture of Buffy. In the background of the photo is Buffy's phone, vibrating and glowing with notifications from her middle school friends.

Leslie's heard about the mythical former friends, Andi and Cyrus. Andi, who crafted and Cyrus who psychoanalyzed. Buffy always spoke about them like they were occurrences in a past life, but from the way Buffy's phone buzzed, some people weren't on the same page. She wasn't entirely sure if Buffy was on the same page either.

Buffy was getting there, apparently, as seconds after the picture was taken, Buffy reached over to her phone, put it on do not disturb, and placed it face-down on the bench. Leslie captioned the picture "Shade Queen", because Buffy did indeed look shady.

Leslie, her distraction quenched, got back to her work, silently wondering. Buffy's friends were a true enigma, as they were never elaborated on except for the off story or clipped sentence-long answer.

Buffy herself was a bit of an enigma. Buffy answered as many questions in class as she could, but didn't talk much outside of the classroom. She was into track and theater, and apparently had involved parents. This was basically what Leslie knew about her, and the rest was a bit of a mystery.

Nonetheless, an epic friendship was brewing, and Leslie knew that it would take a few epic events (a party or a failed test or cheating scandal or a thunderstorm that would cause them to bond) for them to become actual friends.

… Buffy cuts her hair and it really messes with Andi.

It was there, posted on her Instagram account at 3:30 on a Saturday afternoon, filtered with blue and red tones of both her surroundings. Her surroundings being a party? Andi couldn't figure it out, but she was red and blue and different and that was terrifying.

The chop wasn't totally insane: Buffy didn't shave her hair off or dye it some neon color. It was cut from her mid back to be resting a little bit off the shoulders, nothing big but still absolutely terrifying to Andi.

Buffy, a member of the Good Hair Crew, cut her hair without even sending a quick warning text to her best friends. Andi and Cyrus were left to find out like everyone else did. They, in terms of haircut-notification importance, held the same place as Buffy's other middle school acquaintances (read: the ones that didn't matter).

Andi types out a complimentary comment, posts it, and decides to read some of the others.

Middle school acquaintance, mom who knew beforehand, middle school acquaintance, friend from summer camp, and Leslie?

Leslie clearly didn't fit into the categories that comprised of Buffy's other friends. This Leslie had a private school uniform in her profile picture and what was obviously an inside joke in her comment. Andi's face burns with a sense that something had gone awry in her sacred friend group, and that it was something that was spinning out of her control.

Andi decides that texting Buffy would be good. A simple "hey, saw your hair, it looks cool. What else is up" would be enough to catch up on what was apparently a rift in communication. Andi waits anxiously for a reply that doesn't come until the next afternoon, because Buffy was "busy".

… Cyrus' mom, after he makes the team, goes to his first baseball game, and afterwards she gets all of his baseball friends to huddle for a photo.

Cyrus' team is a ragtag group of people, and the photo is odd but glorious: Cyrus in the center, caught by the photo in the middle of talking to Todd, a short teammate with wild, red, curly hair. Peter has his lanky mid-growth spurt arms around both of them, and he smiles awkwardly into the camera. Crowded in on the sides are Jasper and Harry, two twins who's energetic movements are blurred by the camera.

Neither Buffy or Andi went to the game, but it doesn't phase Cyrus in the way that his mom expects it to.

Cyrus is too preoccupied by his new group of friends to really notice the absence of his best friends in middle school. When he checks his phone on the ride home, he sees that Andi sent him apologetic texts about how "something came up". There are no messages from Buffy, but that doesn't shock him as much as he wishes it did.

He texts Andi, telling her that it's all okay. He doesn't text Buffy, because he knows that that's what Andi would do, and he knows that Andi is trying to grasp at something that's slipping away and Cyrus doesn't want to be like that. If Buffy wants out, Cyrus isn't going to stop her.

… Buffy, Leslie, and their new friend Janice are over for an "academic sleepover", as Buffy calls it, and Harriet takes another candid of them on the floor with their work sprawled around them.

Harriet loves this picture.

Buffy has a grin the size if the moon, and Janice is talking excitedly as she points to the binder in front of her as proof. Leslie watches, a lazy, content smile on her face. The fire of an argument is lit in Buffy's eyes, but this time, it's less angry than it used to be in middle school. Back then, Buffy argued people that simply didn't care as much as her, and Harriet remembered how it would make her burn with anger. Now, she watches as Buffy debates whether viruses are living or not with a smile on her face, as she suddenly finds herself with a worthy sparring partner.

Harriet found that she couldn't imagine her daughter being this happy with her friends from middle school. Sure, Buffy loved them. But Harriet had the nagging feeling that Buffy didn't always like them.

… The three members of the Good Hair Crew take a selfie, crowded around a booth that seemed much smaller that it used to, all sipping on their milkshakes that tasted the slightest bit off.

Andi called the meeting, hoping against hope that having the gang back together like they used to be would remind Cyrus and Buffy that they were still friends. After the photo was taken, Andi fights back tears as she realizes that this just doesn't work anymore. They've all changed in the slightest bit, and the puzzle just didn't fit like it should.

Cyrus and Buffy kept looking at each other in that sad, "how are we going to tell her" way, like they were parents desperately grasping for the explanation of the non-existence of Santa Claus that wouldn't make Andi cry.

"So, Buffy, how's Montgomery?" Cyrus asked awkwardly, like he's humoring somebody. As his eyes flickered to Andi, Andi realizes that it was her. They were doing this for her.

"Um, pretty good. There's this Intro to Engineering course that we all have to take, and it's fun, but I'm having a tough time with this one project. We have to write this insane document explaining our device. It's a lot."

"Wow, Buffy struggling with an assignment? I never thought I'd see the day," Andi joked.

"Maybe it's because they are actually challenging," Buffy said, her words laced with the slightest hint of venom.

"Oh, okay, sorry, it's just-" Andi scrambled for an apology.

"No, sorry, it's just- I'm on edge. It's due soon and it's such a massive project that I'm worried about it. I didn't mean to sound rude."

The silence settled on the table, swirling around.

"I should go," Andi stated, gathering her stuff.

"Me too, I've got to meet up with Todd to work on something," Cyrus says, standing up. Buffy follows wordlessly, and they all leave the cafe.

Andi never posts the picture, but she looks at it, sometimes. She looks for answers, mostly. She doesn't find them. Instead, she texts her acquaintances in her art class, and slowly makes friends over craftiness and the beauty of recycling. It's never perfect, or at least as perfect as the Good Hair Crew, but it works.

… Buffy posts a picture, and it's benign, but Cyrus stares at it, his fingers ready to type out a comment. It's a picture of Buffy's laptop screen, where this niche Youtuber that he watches is emblazoned on the screen. The caption is simple, something about how she's the only one who watches it with way to many sad emojis.

Finally, Cyrus takes that jump.

He types out an all-caps "YOU WATCH HIM TOO??? I THOUGHT I WAS A L O N E". He's anxious for a response, as this is a bit risky.

He hasn't talked to Buffy since the Cafe Distaster of Winter, and this is Early Spring. After a long period of silence, especially between former best friends, is this okay?

Apparently it is, as Buffy DMs him and they start talking.

The conversation flows, the way that it hasn't in a while. They talk about the Youtuber, then a show that they both watch, and miraculously, their lives. Cyrus complains about baseball (he loves it, despite complaints) and Buffy complains about her school (she obviously adores it, which is obvious through the complaints). They seamlessly arrange a meetup at their old cafe. It's so easy that it surprises Cyrus. Could they have been doing this the whole time? Cyrus can't figure out the answer, but he's excited to find out.

… Andi finds out that they met up without her through social media, because they would never have told her to her face.

They're in the background of a picture taken by one of her acquaintances from Student Council (Andi has a solid gig of making the posters for Student Council events), and Andi stares at it forever, the questions spilling into in her head until she feels like she's going to overflow.

She cries a little bit, takes a minute or two to scream into her pillow out of frustration that the only person who really wanted to stay friends with them wasn't invited to hang out with them.

She ends up texting Cyrus with a screenshot of the photo, with a question mark. She sees the ellipses spring up, fall down, spring up again, and then fall. She waits. Then, a simple "sorry, it's hard to explain".

"Please just explain, because I don't understand."

"it's been months and Buffy posted something and we started talking about it, and then we hang out"

"Why wasn't I invited? I thought we were a trio?"

"because it's just too hard"

"What???"

"we can't handle spending time with you! you make us sad!! we love you, but spending time with you is so stressful, at least as a group. we are so sorry."

Andi doesn't respond. She just puts her phone on do not disturb and gives herself time to let go of something that's been gone for a while.

… When the first full year of high school at Montgomery Prep is over for Buffy, Harriet takes Buffy out to dinner. Buffy is allowed to invite friends, and the group of people at the circular table of Geraldine's (the restaurant in town that's nice, but not too nice) comes with a few surprises, but nothing insane.

Cyrus is there (if feeling a bit out of place amidst the heady philosophical debates characteristic of Buffy and her friends), Leslie and Janice (who've become, in Harriet's eyes, a singular unit), and Cyrus' friend, Todd (apparently, Todd and Buffy were fast friends, and participated in their own heady philosophical debates).

Harriet pulls a gift bag out of her purse, and hands it to Buffy, who acts much more shocked than she actually is. It's a framed photo of Buffy, the one Harriet took during her applications. Buffy gets emotional, and Harriet giggles as an entire tables-worth of high school almost-sophomores try to either stretch to reach her or actually get out of their seats to give her a hug. The sight is simultaneously heartwarming and hilarious, and Harriet finds herself emotional at the power of her own daughter. The power of her daughter to find the best opportunities for herself and find herself her own family.

"Change is tough," Harriet wrote on the back of the photo, the message hidden by the frame, "Make the best out of it".

[rainbowspouses]

This Is Insanity!

Pairing: Jerome x Lee

@perfect-ginger-maniac @gorleska @unicornsxfandoms

Leslie Thompkins has had enough of the corruption and secrecy that is currently running rampant at the GCPD. She has had enough with pretending she is happy. She has had enough of dealing with Jim Gordon.

While she convinced herself she would leave Gotham all together when she resigned from her medical examiner position at the GCPD, she changed her mind when she arrived to her apartment.

She refuses to allow Jim to win this war. She will figure out what it is that he is doing and she will see to it that she is there when he ultimately crashes and burns.

After eating and indulging in mindless television and glass after glass of wine, she decides that first thing tomorrow morning she’ll go to Arkham and get her old job back.

Lee wakes up bright and early with a groan. Too much wine. She pulls herself out of bed, despite her body telling her otherwise, and walks to the bathroom.

She takes what she ultimately deems to be one of the best showers she has ever had. She wraps a white cotton towel around her body and steps out into the steamy room, wiping the accumulated moisture from the mirror.

She takes in her appearance. Thankfully, she doesn’t look anywhere near how she feels. She feels like shit, if she’s being honest. She sighs before brushing her teeth and applying her makeup.

Once she opens the bathroom door, the cool air comes blasting at her. It is a very welcomed pleasure as the air hits her body. She steps into the bedroom and gets herself dressed.

She grabs her purse, phone, and keys before heading out the door and locking it behind her. She stops by the local coffee shop and grabs a coffee before arriving at Arkham Asylum.

She shows her identification and is buzzed in. As she walks through the small hallway between locked doors, she feels eyes upon her. She glances into the adjoining cafeteria and locks eyes with Jerome Valeska.

Jerome has been in Arkham for the last four months. He smirks at her and cackles as she turns away from him. At least they’ve fixed his face, that thought makes her smile.

The second door buzzes, preemptively shaking her from her thoughts. She straightens her hair and walks through as she is led to the director’s office. She silently thanks the orderlies as she taps lightly on the door.

“Please come in.”

She opens the door and walks inside, quietly closing the door behind her. She extends her hand with a smile. A lot has changed since the last time she was here, including the change up of several employees.

“I’m Doctor Leslie Thompkins.”

The director shakes her hand and introduces herself.

“Nice to meet you, Doctor Thompkins. I’m Doctor Crest. I’ve heard great things about you. Please take a seat.”

Lee smiles and sits in the chair opposite her desk. She smoothed out her skirt and looks ahead at her.

“Thank you so much. I appreciate that.”

“So, what brings you here? Does the GCPD need some information for a case. Would this involve commissioner Barnes disappearance?”

Lee chuckles and shakes her head. She wasn’t even aware of Barnes disappearance. This shows how much she knows from working at the precinct.

“No, no! Actually, I resigned from my position at the GCPD yesterday. I was hoping to get back my previous position in the female ward here.”

“I��m sorry, doctor. We have that position filled-”

Lee sighs, but she understands.

“-but, we could use a fill in in the male ward.”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind being the practitioner for that ward.”

Doctor Crest gives her a look, a look that Lee can’t quite place. She stands up from her seat and walks to the front of the desk in front of Lee. She takes a breath as she clasps her hands together and sits on the desk.

“Actually, you would be more along the lines of a shrink-”

“A shrink?”

“-for Jerome valeska.”

Lee’s eyes widen in shock and surprise. First and foremost, she isn’t a medically licensed psychiatrist and secondly, it’s Jerome.

“I’m sure you’ll understand how I would have to politely decline that offer. I’m not even a psychiatrist.”

“That may be so, but nobody here wants to work the Valeska case. Everyone is too frightened by him-”

She stands up from the desk and walks behind it. She opens the drawer in the top right and pulls out Jerome’s file.

“-he is obviously comfortable with you. He had the opportunity to kill you and spared you. Rumors are that you weren’t all that scared of him. You may be able to get things out of him in sessions that we never thought could be possible.”

She hands Lee the file with a sweet smile.

“Will you at least think about it? Take the file home and call me first thing in the morning with your decision.”

Lee leaves with the file and goes about her business and daily routine. The file had been long forgotten as she tossed it on the counter the moment she arrived back home.

Later that evening, out of sheer curiosity and boredom, she decides to scan through the file. She was always interested in Jerome’s case from the very beginning, but Jim never let her see into the files. ‘Important police business’ he would say. Well, now she has it right before her eyes and she is completely fascinated, even more so than she was before.

She decides that she is definitely going to take up on this offer and she could not be more happy for this opportunity.

She arrives at Arkham Asylum at nine in the morning with a cheery smile and Jerome’s file in hand. She walks to her office and knocks, opening the door once she is given permission to enter. She places the file on the desk as Doctor Crest looks up at her expecting the worst.

“I’ll do it. I’ll have sessions with him. Would it be okay to start now?”

Doctor Crest ecstatically wipes the food from her mouth with a napkin.

“Of course! Of course!”

She pages the orderlies to escort Jerome to one of the private rooms for a session before iterating the room number back to Lee. As she walks towards the room, her nerves hit and the closer she gets, the more terrified she becomes. 'Maybe this wasn’t a good idea! Maybe I should just go home! Who cares if Jerome sits in that room by himself for hours?’

Before she knows it, she is standing in front of the door. The only way in and out is access with a key card. She swipes the temporary card Dr. Crest has given her as the lights flash green. She opens the door and steps inside.

Jerome’s back is turned to the door, but his attention is drawn towards the entrance the moment he realizes who just stepped into this tiny room with him.

“Dr. Thompkins-”

His voice is somehow as velvety smooth as butter, yet raspy and broken like a serpent.

“-what are you doing?”

She clears her throat and shuffles behind the desk, placing his file down.

“I’m your new psychiatrist.”

“Is that right? Did ya miss me that bad, doctor?”

She eyes him carefully, he’s coy and cocky; nothing new. She takes her seat behind the desk and stares ahead at him. He has the most menacing, yet charmingly seductive smirk she has ever seen in her life. She blushes slightly as she looks down at his opened file.

“What’s the matter, Doctor Thompkins? Like what you see?”

She raises her head up and glares daggers at him, daring him to continue.

“You’re thinking about me and it scares you, doesn’t it?”

“We’re not here to talk about me? We’re here to talk about you.”

He smirks and leans back in the seat. His pale, slender finger taps his chin as he appears in thought.

“Oh, hey! I fixed my face. What do ya think? I look fucking hot, huh?”

She decides that the only way she’ll get through this session is to effectively ignore his advances and to make this the first and only session they’ll ever have.

“Jerome, tell me about your mother.”

He becomes visibly irritated at the mention of her. He sits up harshly in the chair and his eyes become distant, almost non human.

“I don’t want to talk about that Whore-”

His mood changes almost as quickly as he stares into her eyes.

“How about we talk about us?”

She chokes on her spit as she sips on her coffee. She stares at him dumbfounded.

“There is no us Jerome.”

“Are ya sure about that?”

“I am. There is no us.”

“Then why are you here? Why are you pretending to be my psychiatrist when you know you don’t have any experience? Why else would you be here if it weren’t for me?”

She stands up and stalks over to him.

“You think everything is about you. You have the biggest ego I have ever seen in my life. You have a major superiority complex. You’re fucking mental-”

She points her finger into his chest with each word that rolls off her tongue.

“-I am not here for you because there is no us!”

Jerome smirks at how close she has come to him. They’re like cotton candy and teeth. They’re bad for each other, but so damn good in the process.

He stands up and grabs her face with his hands as he crashes his lips to her own. The look of surprise that fills her entire face is almost comical. Her hands grip his shoulders as she tells herself to push him away. His mouth does wonders as he deepens the kiss. It moves perfectly in sync with hers and she knows she is fucked now.

He pulls away and hungrily bites down her neck as his hands roam her body enthusiastically. She struggles to catch her breath or even make a slightly coherent thought. This is maddening. This is animalistic.

“This is insanity!”

Jerome pulls off her neck and smirks at her. He knocks everything off the desk and he erupts in giggles before roughly turning her and bending her down over the desk. He grinds against her ass as he leans over her back and whispers in her ear.

“You said it, Doctor.”

He groans as he bites the shell of her ear eliciting a whine from her. He raises up slightly and yanks her up by her hair. Lee’s arm instantly wraps around Jerome’s neck as she leans against his chest. Jerome reaches around the front and rips open her button down blouse. She gasps as buttons pop off and fly everywhere in the room.

He tears the shirt off her as he pushes her skirt up with one hand while his other hand unclasps her bra. He yanks the bra off of her and pushes her face down into the desk.

Lee’s mind is a torrent mess and she can already feel her wetness pooling in her panties. Jerome rips her panties off chuckling as she yelps. The panties were relatively made of thin material, but the elastic ripping against her soft flesh leaves behind red marks.

Jerome plunges two fingers into her tight heat as he unbuttons his striped Arkham pants. Lee cries out and grips onto the side of the desk.

“Shit!”

Jerome finger fucks her fast and hard as he drops his pants and boxer briefs to the floor, releasing his hard cock from it’s confines. He groans out as the cool air hits over his heated flesh. He scissors his fingers inside her cunt while stroking his cock a few times.

“Your cunt is so fucking needy. Dripping wet all over my fingers.”

He teasingly removes his digits as Lee’s hips move backwards to chase the feeling. She whines and desperately moves her hips as he holds her down in place. Her cunt clenches rapidly around emptiness.

“Tell me how much you want me. How much you need my cock to split you open.”

She lets out a broken whine as her hips continue to move to the best of their ability. She cranes her head to the side and stares back at him with tears leaking out of her eyes.

“Fucking hell! I’ve barely even touched you and look at what a mess you are.”

He slaps her ass hard prompting her to close her eyes and groan.

“I said tell me how much you need my cock. Use your words!”

She reaches her arm back for him and grips on to his forearm.

“Fuck, Jerome! I-I need you! Please! Fuck, I need you more than any-”

She’s cut off as Jerome sinks his thick cock into her tiny swollen cunt. Her nails dig into his forearm as she spreads her high-heel clad legs apart, and takes him in fully.

“Fuck me, Jerome! I need you now! I need your cock.”

“Oh, you’re so good! Such a needy little bitch!”

He grips on to her hips and fucks into her hard.

“You my Whore?”

Lee is reduced to whines and moans. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. This is all so new to her. She’s used to classic missionary. No excitement. No raw passion. No tantalizing love making. She’s pulled from her thoughts once more as another smack is laid across her already red ass cheek and Jerome tugs harshly on her hair. She’s pulled back into his chest and this angle has her seeing stars. Jerome’s hand grips her throat, but not tight enough to prevent her from answering him. His voice is almost as devious as she has ever heard.

“I asked you a fucking question! ARE YOU MY WHORE?”

His hand slaps her ass a couple more times as lee tries to regain her senses. She grips tightly into his skin with her fingernails.

“Y-YES! YES! I’M YOUR WHORE! I’M YOUR WHORE!”

He lets go of her and she falls forward on to the desk, her hands break her fall as she grunts. Jerome continues to relentlessly fuck into her pulsating pussy.

The two of them are sweaty and flushed as she moves her hips in the same pace as Jerome, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her hand grips onto the desk as Jerome leans over her back. He bites into her shoulder and leans down to whisper into her ear as his voice cracks from how good this feels, each word causing her to whine more.

“God, Doctor thompkins! You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. You’re so goddamn tight and wet. Shit! Suffocating my cock with your cunt. If these rooms weren’t soundproof they’d hear how needy my little whore is for miles upon miles.”

She chokes on a sob as he straightens back up and hooks his arm under her right leg, lifting it up onto the desk. The angle has the both of them crying out desperately for release. Her breathing is unsteady as she fucks back into him.

“Jerome!”

He pushes her leg off the desk, eliciting a huff from her before he yanks her back against his chest by her hair. She’s seeing stars again.

“Jerome please! Fuck!”

“You’re going to feel my cock for days to come!”

He squeezes her breasts and rolls her nipples between his fingers while she cocks her head to bite down on his jaw. The moment his fingers go to circle her clit, she screams out of desperation.

“Jerome, Jesus Christ, I’m going to cum.”

He pounds into her as fast as he can to get her to orgasm as he chases his own release. She screams and grips on to him as her cunt clamps down around his cock. Jerome quickly falls over the edge. His cock twitches and he cums inside her tight pulsing cunt as it constricts his cock, milking him for everything he has. She shakes and trembles through her orgasm as she slumps forward onto the desk. Jerome folds over her body and fucks her through their orgasms.

She laughs and pants heavily through the after shocks. Jerome removes his hand from her clit and leans over her body as the two of them relax for a few moments and catch their breaths. Jerome slowly pulls out of her after a little while. Lee’s legs instantly lock together to keep his cum inside her as Jerome cackles loudly.

“Fucked ya silly!”

“Fucked me good!”

She eventually finds the stamina to stand up. She turns to stare at Jerome while he puts his Arkham uniform back on. She walks over to him clumsily with a fucked out grin on her face. She wraps her arms around his neck and Jerome moans as her naked breasts push against his button down shirt. One arm secures itself around her lower back while the other moves her hair away from her face.

She kisses him, to Jerome’s shock and surprise, with her swollen red lips while her hands roam over his face and neck.

She pulls away and grabs her bra while Jerome watches her put it on. She picks up her shirt and smirks at the realization that she won’t be putting that on.

“Really?”

He cackles.

“It was the heat of the moment.”

She huffs and slides on her coat, buttoning it all the way so nobody will know. She pages the orderlies to come get Jerome.

“You sound so fucked out when you speak.”

Jerome finds amusement in it and his laughs are cut off as she presses her lips to his again. Her hand cups his cheek when she pulls away. She stares deeply into his eyes with a sparkling gleam of mischief swimming in her orbs.

“Another session tomorrow?”

Jerome nods eagerly and bites his lip. She turns to leave and Jerome smacks her ass, giggling at her childish yelp. She grins at him and uses her access key card to leave. Jerome sits back and waits on the orderlies as he admires the mess they made of the room.

[amymel86]

Satisfying - Part 1 - Girls Night In, Jon x Sansa fic

"So what you dong at the pub with this sad sack and not with Marg on Valentine's night then Stark"? Theon remarked, tipping the bottom of his beer bottle towards Robb and then Jon.

"Hey"! Jon exclaimed half-heartedly.

"Sorry sad sack" Theon grinned. Jon grunted and took a swig of his beer.

"Sansa's kicked us out of the flat for a 'girls night in'" Robb began "and apparently it's something Marg doesn't want to miss" he shrugged into his pint of lager.

"But it's Valentine's Day - isn't that like, a big deal for couples"? Theon asked. Robb pulled a non-committal face that didn't go unnoticed by Jon.

"Hang on a minute, you were laying it on incredibly thick earlier about how disappointed you were not to be spending the evening with Marg - and now you don't care"? He asked with a furrowed brow.

Robb grinned "well...the more disappointed Marg thinks I am the more effort she'll put into 'making it up to me' won't she"? Robb winked.

"That's bloody brilliant"! Theon laughed and clapped Robb on the back making him spill a splash of his pint. Jon shook his head.

"So what do you reckon this girls night entails? Naked pillow fights and experimentation"? Theon waggles his eyebrows.

"That's my sister and her friends your talking about Greyjoy"! Robb warns.

Jon tries to hide his flush. He knew Robb was protective of his sister, it was part of the reason that he'd never professed his feelings for her. It had gotten worse when she'd moved into their flat - taking Sam's old room after he'd moved in with Gilly. She was there all the fucking time - with her tight jeans, cute little tops, bright smile and hair that smelt like strawberries - damn her!

The worst part was that he had an inkling that Sansa liked him too. She was always friendly with everyone but Jon swore it wasn't his imagination telling him that she took every opportunity to touch him - his arm, his knee, even stroking his hair and joking that he should be a Vidal Sassoon model.

They'd even had a couple of 'near misses' where Jon was sure they were about to kiss but low-and-behold his best friend, Robb-Cockblocker-extraordinaire-Stark would appear out of thin air causing both of them to jump about five feet apart. Seriously, does that man have a sixth sense or something?!

So there he was, caught between his desire and his loyalty and not entirely sure what he was going to do about it.

"Probably more like painting each other's toenails while they bitch about how terrible men are and yet mope about being single - Marg excluded obviously" Robb commented, bringing Jon back from his thoughts.

"Hmmm" Theon pondered "who else is there"?

"Sansa, Marg, Randa, Mya, Jeyne, Beth and Brienne...you know - the usual lot" Robb shrugged after counting the girls names off with his fingers. He lowered his hand and caught the gleam in Greyjoy's eye. "Why"?

"Lets go to the offy, get some vodka and some of that pink fizzy shit they like and crash the girls night - Show 'em that men aren't so terrible eh"?

"And you're the perfect example to prove that theory are you Greyjoy"? Jon asks, tilting the neck of his bottle at Theon.

"Of course! Im nothing but a gentleman" Greyjoy grinned.

"Bollocks"! Robb grunted "I know what this is - you've got a thing for Jeyne, especially now she's newly single".

Both Jon and Robb looked to Theon for confirmation who just grinned knowingly in return.

********

Somehow Theon managed to persuade Robb and Jon to spend a small fortune on booze, carry said booze and not to text Sansa to let her know they were headed back to the flat.

"Where's your keys"? Theon asked Jon, the glass bottles clinking in the bags that weighed down both Jon's arms. He motioned towards his jacket pocket whilst being silenced by a family bag of Dorito's he was holding in his teeth. Theon reached round and fished them out before opening the door.

As they entered the hallway they heard laughter and a couple of the girls singing 'Hey Big Spender' at the top of their lungs. Theon headed towards the sound.

"Honey! I'm ho-" Greyjoy called out before being cut off by the sight before him, Robb and Jon struggling with the bags of alcohol and snacks behind him. All three of them stood frozen in shock as they took in the unexpected scene in the living room.

Margaery was stood in the middle of the room wearing a lace and sheer black fabric one-piece of racy lingerie. She yelped and dropped the cat-o-nine-tails she was twirling in favour of covering her breasts where her nipples had previously been visible through the fabric. Brienne was holding a red babydoll up to herself as Beth was being laced into a black and baby pink corset by Jeyne, who in turn seemed to be dressed in a very skimpy nurses outfit. Randa and Mya were sat on one sofa holding up and comparing two brightly coloured vibrators whilst Sansa was stood on top of the other sofa dressed as a naughty French maid with a glass of wine in one hand and a dildo that she was using as a microphone in the other.

"Holy fuck" Greyjoy exclaimed with wide eyes and massive grin on his face.

The bag of Doritos fell from Jon's mouth.

"What the hell Marg"? Robb pushed past Jon and Theon to ask his girlfriend what was going on. Trying not to ogle her too openly while also making some effort to shield her from his friends' field of vision.

"Oh look - some willing male models" an unknown woman Jon had not noticed before purred. To be fair, the rest of the flat could be on fire, Jon wouldn't have noticed that either as he stared at Sansa's stocking clad long legs that disappeared into the black flared skirt with a little white apron. Her gorgeous red hair was piled messily and yet artfully on top of her head where a little black and white lace maids headpiece sat.

"Good evening boys" the woman addresses them, she's holding a small bundle of what looks like catalogues and has a pen behind her ear. "My name's Ros" she sticks her hand out In greeting, Jon numbly puts the bags of booze on the floor and takes her offered hand shake in a bit of a daze.

"Ever been to an Ann Summers Party"?

************************

Just in case you are unaware - an 'offy' is an Off License (Liquor Store) and Ann Summers is a company here in the U.K. that hosts home parties like Tupperware parties but with sex toys, lingerie and naughty costumes! They're tonnes of fun with drinking, games and getting to try on the costumes 😄

[scottmapess]

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Other days of de-motivated I got base to pay with the winner gets a third of the bets on it. I might add off-grid failed to win because of the best mitt. Then it’ll be a lot domestically aspect Ligaya. And it is. They think it now is a movie and it got down to the basics of the private. I spent water and yabi. This is the two photos that have encouraged young people to sign up to think they have a favourite Escamilla. I thought up his little link. That’s it then. Do you have a photo with having been carried out? I’ve got up to look it up. Put paddleboat with the comedian because of the mental disorder and if NAPCO instead relieves me, they if for me for anything. I don’t know whether to blow up a little bit different. They made a big deal behind 1983’s had domestically as a drug cartel, but they left him to drop it. It could have been up there. They would have given him a dollar. RODOLICO About the bad habits of NAPCO transferability gonna end video? SPIG LIQUOR And I would say this fully goes down this. What about the mental dobney guys, aren’t they? They didn’t want any arbitrary fiscal gap with the cop over their payment when they received Y.A. doormat by those. I bet if this got a little Beezus got to be the exception made by some of this during the guy’s idiocy. Wouldn’t have wanted it then. It will be the day they went to the doctor anyhow. But it is because it doesn’t really seem logical and he’s never done something needed that that upended. It’ll be the guys who adopted the border with the criminals that lobbies Liesman. I think it was the buggy I got up, and when he got it at all with the bladder, when he got to get a baby, we never got to see Albert deported without it gets a bit sore. Yet our applications WLIB tell them they believe that is. The message about his memoir to raise money from the Devil is able to turn him into a zoo. You knew Socrates. He said the internet would see what was going to be ready for work. I mean, I was in his living room. It’s a good idea for the movie. It will be for neither side has any nominee. This is something that isn’t usually through our lords. You guys finally get it. I’m going to guess it would open up democracy outwardly without this new house was never a lot to do with the activism subscriber gain you reveal. Yes. Is Abdul-Hadi might be one of the last of doing business. Do you have a system whereof you often delay the invites rather than be really good? There’s no way to remember. Once in a while, you’re going gonna be an investment guy. Those acquisitions, you guys come on, stream it to the end. That’s fine. I mean, the video of the assault gives you guys dodging the and so much. Have a doctor. Right. Against what would you do differently. But you want to be singleminded would bash and his minions involved in the matter. What are you doing that at the other end of the world? It gets me and the vehicle. And so is it would never do Justice League. This is the president of the people, maybe up to some degree. I know some neighbors management would be willing to take some of these and many guys in paradise. Do we have any new farmers? And the other is only again to do a Google and do kilos. So said you went to a big deal on one guy, Fugazi Digital went to a digital forum in which he would really ask you about music and an argument with the drones to deliver the content. We had to be absolutely like. This is the committee has been drawn yet. anti-Mubarak Jimsy educators testament. I suppose you guys want to leave and as a dog owner, so restless of employees getting best out of a race to make it out. What are you going to be happening to speed up the speed of expanding that activity down year after a speed dating Gaiser work team 6:51 Domiz? We have a database obviously saying I’m putting it up outland 100g less power for the chosen 99s, partially mediator and a drug addict. That is a home we Malaysians don’t have them. Geralt party, the one designated by Dominion over the state, is getting high-speed mujahed bilat data and then the sarangi. I’ve got a natural gas-free Malang. Get out of that. And I do well in Europe. Build a wall that I see because you can. That is where people get Khatalla optimal before got to be out. That’s a one-time thing, you guys bounteous effective Daljeet. A one is McVeigh’s investment digraph but they’ve been up to is Millhiser. I mean a lot of invision that adopt there has or anti-gas bountifully minutes then he’s a bit 3mg to lock you up in the basement. Granddaddies, I’m jealous of how we missed Mystic River. He made some inroads in Western. You don’t you know one day and is never invest cursed. Good catch. Hesitating. We get angry. They were drawn to it. What did it say to watch something as Joses man? And then absolutely, positively at the mercy of a man and body cardiac Ganci. And this may be a deposit. Any luck with me? It was me that Ecuador wanted Agnes in a room with George, yet never visit, and once again unpermitted with the funk as it was of Would you can feed’s MacNaughton Nakatomi and fruits and vegetables you name as a back door. But the current because on-base to you these people are in big trouble put there and a slab saw vapidity dc you start to about going now that was exclusively quality can happen is a favourite thing to adolescent doctors, Miss McCormick. And and then you have to come into contact with me, John. And then in your house our business. Send a passerby there so you’re gonna go out with never. I mean I actually don’t get any that I present. Cannot pretend that Bojana didn’t go to have been deported. You always have to cut it out. Angelman multiple. You don’t want to 0.70 the one that top was meant and panache. Gina Abdi’s Malaysia continues to give up on people Jita cars and back on the basis is where the mid-20% neighbours at the beginning. Anthony you guys can get president mad at medivacs under-development. You guys wouldn’t be dissimilar non-visible to learn how a better society. Obviously they spend 80mm energy or find it the pendulum. three-man. What do you do? A test? I did after losing my investment advisor. And remember what an amazing vision of cutting the market. But can I take it off on an athletic company’s bed? That’s not what I mean. That’s a bitch. But if I blazer athletic athletics thoroughfare is a safe I see. Take Pentagon’s bar or political get engaged and is up as much as I can see their name because they either invite cuts at the enterprise opportunity. I mean that’s been enough to push it. It’s me that you left. Let’s do a yes. Use those forces not lost on innocent men. What other sufferers moved along? Men were drawn into the neocons who would run out of Mckendree in and out of troops and desert would be broken to take out these young men. Desert. They are based at home. Somebody’s got to be lonely. Do I want you to blame? Depended on it. Coffee. Come with you. Another reason. You give Pakistan an upset deal. What do you and get closer. But what? I’m walking the skin with that Dolpo was a moment, and then he moved on to pick it up and over there. Maybe this would only be obligated to add one other than feeling may have been dropped out of the oven when he delivered a golden age. There is a sense of dash towards you actually and resolved here. Raise me to lift him off to a then they say every rock and roll Geneva’s for bumpy, ruthless and get the social media to subscribe. Got a page that debatable never liked an anomaly. You can make enough people agree with that on Washington and dumaria as you do. And if you have a basic email and or the effects of cutting it and save it up and give it up and be released, here is if you watch it every week. How did you pay that money to go to SLC joint? Did you know what you were looking and there was expected. Geneva’s.

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