#the reference photo too with the sunlight on the hair……..

[otaku553]

My qpp got a haircut and looks very gorgeous and I had to doodle them,

[echantedtoon]

Ocean Deep Ch2 Spectacles And Scales

((Warnings for mistreatment of the mers by the sideshow owner and some of the other people, Buying and selling of mers, mistreatment of animals briefly shown, etc.

 typed in random anime man into Google and this is the first photo that popped up so I'm using this as reference to what Akira looks like.

https://images.app.goo.gl/Kxk9rU7mkMZRiRXbA)

It was a beautiful day today. 

That's usually what the default positive thing you thought was whenever something went wrong or you were feeling bad. You'd look outside and even if it was raining, you'd still find something outside to think about. The clouds looked like funny bunnies today. The next the sky would be a beautiful blue. Those flowers look wonderful. The snow looked sparkly in the sunlight. 

Anything to stay positive in the crazy world ruled by creatures unseen and more powerful than the average human. You've never seen one personally thank the gods, but you knew something must've been going on with all of the disappearances that's happened for hundreds of years. Whether it's some humans, natural accidents, runaways, or something else you didn't know but you weren't going to be one of the ones that ended up disappearing. You had a plan for your life. 

You wanted to work on yourself and maybe find someone to settle down with, and then maybe have a few children later down the line when your career was solid and you knew you'd be secure enough. Maybe even adopt a few animals! You've always wanted a small pony! Maybe a big dog you could roughhouse and snuggle with. That'd be nice. Just you and a domestic life. But for now you were just content with just working at the local florist shop and putting your life together. 

It wasn't bad. You got to help with lots of pretty flowers all year round, there was always the pleasant smell of flowers in the air, it earnt you a decent living, it wasn't too far from your house, and your boss was a very kind old lady who's been doing this for years. You were lucky to have found such a good job. 

"Thank you for coming by. It's always so nice to see you again, Akira." 

You briefly looked up from where you were watering a pot of begonias with an old teapot. One of the local men was in today buying a small bouquet of peonies for whatever reason he wanted them. Being a decently big town, you kinda knew him but with the town still being big you also didn't. You knew this man, Akira, was the son of one of the fishermen families while his mother's family were glass blowers. You only knew that because your boss mentioned that Akira's mother's family were the ones that made the giant glass greenhouse connected to her house, she used it to grow all her flowers year round. But outside of that and just seeing him around every so often, you didn't personally know Akira. But he also had a reputation for being handsome. 

He certainly has the looks to back that up. Greyish-white soft hair. Silver eyes. A tall muscular physic. And a handsome face that looked like it was sculpted by an excellent artist. You only gave a brief look over your shoulder as the two spoke.. before going back to work. It'd be rude to stare while they spoke and you had a job to do which was to finish watering these plants. 

"You too, Mrs. Satoshi. And may I say you don't look a day over forty."

A strong of chuckles that had you rolling your eyes and inwardly groaning. "Oh, stop. You always say the sweetest things to people."

"I can't help it if I wear my heart on my sleeve.~ But while I'm here, I might as well give you this." You heard a distant sound of rustling paper and a moment later Akira spoke again. "Here! I've been handing these out for everyone to see."

There was a pause of silence before your boss hummed again. "Your uncle finally gotten that display up has he?"

"Absolutely! He calls it an 'ocean viewing through glass' and he's planning on showing it off at the end of this month!"

"Having a small tank of pet fish is one thing, but who's ever heard of people keeping giant tanks full of fish just for people to gawk at? Anyone can just go down to the beach and see most of the critters in the water."

Akira gave a deep chuckle in return. "Oh it's going to be be so much more than 'just fish's, Mrs. Satoshi. The opening night is free to everyone who shows up, and there's going to be plenty to see."

"I'll certainly think about it. Tell your family I said hi."

"I certainly will." Footsteps carried away the man from the counter before they slowly came to a stop right behind you. The sudden feeling on eyes on your back had you pausing before turning over your shoulder and finding Akira staring at you with a half lidded smiling face. "I can't forget about your lovely assistant now!"

You blinked and a second later a hand held up a piece of paper to you. F/c eyes glanced at the parchment and noticed that he must've pulled it out of the bag slung over his right shoulder since a few more corners of paper were sticking out and the top opening. The paper made some crinkle sounds when he waggled it at you pulling your attention back to it, and slowly you reached out to take it from him. Your eyes gazed over it and it became pretty apparent that it was a flyer advertising the opening of a new business. Hand written too, detailing the opening date and time and other things. 

"Oh...Thank you," you remained polite.

He smiled maybe a bit too widely but only turned to start walking away with the flowers in his hands. "I hope to see you there."

You watched as he left through the front door and slowly looked back to the flier in your hands.. before just putting it away and carrying on with your business. The roses were in need of the water and the flowers weren't going to water themselves.

"You know I think he likes you."

"...What?" Your head turned to the smiling older lady.

"He passed by here practically every day and he always gives a look at you through the window," she teased, "He's a rather handsome young man, and his family has such a profitable business."

You grimaced. "That's just really creepy. If he likes me then he can be a man and talk to me about it, and I don't even know him. We're strangers. Besides-" You turned back to the flowers pouring more water from the large teapot in your hands. "-he's not my type."

You just wasn't feeling like getting close to Akira. He gave you a bad feeling, and genuinely he really was not you type. He looked really handsome but it was more than good looks that counts. What about personality and character? Nah. The other girls could have him for all you cared. The older woman only hummed in thought before shrugging.

"If you say so, Dear. Just remember you're only young once. It wouldn't hurt to find someone nice to settle down with before it's too late."

"I also have my whole life ahead of me so I have plenty of time to settle down and find someone if I even wanted to. I don't want to rush into anything that I'll just regret later." 

You didn't want to end up like so many unhappy couples you've seen over the years. Fighting and yelling and having affairs- No. You didn't want that. You were going to take your time and if someone comes along then it'll happen. If not- Well you can always get that pony or dog you've always wanted to keep you company. You didn't need to be married or have children to have a good fulfilling life. 

Besides you were perfectly content right now with how things were. You didn't need anything changing or any surprises. Everything was just fine how they were. Not a single thing needs to be added. 

"Are you going to his uncle's grand opening? I think it would be quite interesting to see what all of the excitements about."

"I don't think so. It's just going to be a bunch of fish in giant tanks. If you ask me, that's too much work to maintain. Not to mention that the amount of cleaning the tanks and constantly hauling new water to replace the old sea water-..." You shook your head. "No. Not worth it if you ask me."

She hummed turning to grab a pair of tweezers and cut away the dead leaves off a miniature rose bush. "Well you never know. It might be fun to just go and look. It is going to be free after all. "

"Maybe."

You both left the conversation at that and didn't bring it up again. There was no point. You didn't want to go and really you shouldn't to not give Akira any more encouragement for his creepy behavior. It made a shudder run through your spine and you cringe in disgust. You'd definitely be avoiding him from now on. You'd just ignore him and everything would be fine again.

With a sigh of relief, you just went on about your day and ignored the feeling in the back of your mind. It was nothing.

You hadn't heard anything else for the next three days, and it was just business as usual around here. You were having a peaceful time with your work and had all but forgotten about the encounter with Akira or his uncle's 'grand opening' except for the occasional old flier on the ground or the occasional topic of it being brought up in conversation, but it wasn't very often and you'd forget about it quickly after anyways. But there was one strange thing that happened to at the end of the week. It was really a spectacle. Really it was. Not really a thing you'd usually see around these parts. You hadn't even noticed it really, with your back towards the roads. You were too busy helping your elderly boss pick up big plant pots outside that her frail body was too weak to lift. You'd be needing these for an upcoming big delivery for (ironically) Akira's Aunt Linna as you were informed by your boss. Apparently she was planning on adding a whole lot of giant rose bushes around her home and these heavy pots were gonna be used to transport the bushes over once they were ready in one of two weeks. Unfortunately your work was interrupted by your boss when the kind lady looked over her shoulder and gasped catching your attention.

"My oh my." She looked surprised with a hand to her chin.

You followed her gaze and paused surprised as well as a few other people on the streets around you. Coming from up the road was two giant stallions being pulled along by a strong looking middle aged man. He was cursing at the animals straining to pull along their cargo and angrily whipping the reigns with each curse.

"That's sick!" The words escaped you before you could even think.

A nasiating disgusted feeling churned about in your stomach as you watched as the poor animals strained and slowly came up the road and past you both. The sounds those poor ponies were making made you want to grab a whip and swing it at the gruff looking man as they slowly walked by you. The cargo they were straining to pull was...Well you couldn't tell what it was. It was BIG. At least six feet high, ten feet long, very rectangular, and covered by old wet tarps tied together by ropes. Your eyes widened looking up at the thing as it slowly pulled past you with the man yelling at the struggling ponies, briefly a shadow fell over you both and you froze solid as it continued to be pulled by you both. 

"It ..seems like they had come up from the beach. That's probably one of the tanks Akira's uncle wanted for his opening," your boss eventually broke the silence and pointed out the size of the presumed tank.

You didn't say anything about it for you were frozen in shock. For your eyes could have SWORN they saw the brief sight of a hand and half a face peeking out at you from a gap in the tarps..The light. You told yourself. It was just the light playing tricks on you. There's no way a human was under that tarp. You were seeing things. You shouldn't involve yourself in this. Forget it. Don't get involved in this. It wasn't worth it. Nothing good would ever come out of sticking your nose into other people's business anyways. You turned away from the sight of the cart disappearing and the distant cries of the man's cussing to place another heavy pot down off to the side, the last thing you needed was unnecessary drama in your life. 

Besides it's not like whatever Akira's family was doing would affect you.

[seiya-starsniper]

WIP Word Search Game

I AM 8 BAJILLION YEARS LATE WITH NO EXCUSES (that's a lie, I was sick so haven't written too much lmaoooooo) but thank you so much for the tags @five-and-dimes and @hardly-an-escape

My words are cold, warm, soft, hold, hurt and book, scare, red, hip, tree. Let's see what we've got!

Putting this under a cut because it got long!

Cold:

From an Untitled Dreamling Forced Marriage AU

Dream wishes he had tried harder to convince Robert to open their marriage. Then maybe he could have had someone else’s child, and taken the fall for an affair and run off, out of this cold, loveless place. But Robert had vehemently refused him even that small comfort, and Dream now finds himself hating his husband for it. Now he was trapped forever, with no escape. 

Warm:

Continuation of Untitled Portrait of a Man (I Want to Obliterate Me)

“Hey,” Hob greets warmly, breaking Dream out of his reverie and forcing him to reboot his brain. “Hob,” Dream says, cringing internally at how breathless he sounds despite Hob being the one breathing heavily at his door. If the other man notices, he doesn’t comment on it. “It’s bloody hot outside,” Hob replies. He runs a hand through his sweat soaked hair and Dream has to clamp his jaw shut before he blurts out something stupid like “it’s bloody hot inside too”.

Soft:

From the Untitled sequel to A Dream for a Viscount

He wakes to sunlight filtering through the windows, soft and gentle. Hob is snoring peacefully next to him, a rarity as he is normally an early riser while Dream prefers to sleep in. Dream’s last night of heat had been his most fervent, and he blushes when he remembers how desperately he had begged for Hob’s knot, had even begged the alpha to stay inside him until they both fell asleep. 

Hold:

Continuation of Untitled Portrait of a Man (I Want to Obliterate Me)

Dream doesn’t expect Hob to show up for their final session. He has every right not to. When he had left Dream’s apartment last week, Dream had buried himself in his work and his sketches. He obsessively stalked the man's social media accounts and downloaded dozens of photos to use a reference in case he needed them to finish his project. In case Hob decided to not come back. The photos don't hold a candle to the real thing though.

Hurt:

From the Untitled sequel to Break Me, Shake Me

Johanna explains to the group gathered who Dream is, and why he’s agreed to help them. Though many of the group regard him warily, as they should, they all fully accept that he's yet another person that's been irreparably hurt by Roderick. Dream wonders what it is they see when they look at him. Roderick has not left him with scars, nor starved him. But there must be something in his expression because Dream catches more than a few pitying glances. 

Book:

Continuation of Untitled Portrait of a Man (I Want to Obliterate Me)

“So are you going to let me see what you've done so far, or do I need to wait for the finished product?” Hob asks, settling himself back on the lounge and looking far too comfortable. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get dressed, much to Dream’s chagrin. It’s not that he minds Hob’s company, but he’s so horny he might actually explode if Hob doesn’t dress and leave soon. “When I have something worth sharing, you will be the first to see it,” Dream replies, more curt than he'd intended. Hob doesn't seem bothered by his shortness though, he simply huffs in amusement before he stands and walks over to where Dream is sitting as he finishes some additional lines on his sketches. On instinct, Dream pulls his sketchbook close to his chest when Hob is close enough, and when he looks up, he finds himself staring at the most brilliant amber brown eyes he’s ever seen. He almost tells Hob to sit back down just so he can sketch them.

Scare:

Not found in any of my WIP documents (but I'm sure that'll change soon enough!)

Red:

Follow up to SnowBaz Dreamling shenanigans, requested by @bazzybelle

“ ‘m not drunk,” Morpheus insists. Hob snorts. “Sure, sure, and I had the queen of England over at my place this summer,” Hob jokes. “I’m serious!” Morpheus insists, huffing and puffing out his cheeks like a small child. It’s absolutely adorable, if not absolutely terrible for Hob’s balance. Morpheus’s cheeks and lips are both flushed cherry-red from the cold, the most color Hob’s ever seen on the other man since they met. It was a really good look on him. A very tempting look. “Pretty sure your boyfriend would agree with me,” Hob replies, reminding himself that no matter how cute and tempting Morpheus looked, Hob wasn’t a homewrecker. Even if Baz would have thanked him for him and written him a check for enough money to pay the rest of his rent and tuition for the rest of the year.  Morpheus furrows his brow. “Boyfriend?” he asks in a confused state. “What boyfriend?”

Hip:

From the Untitled sequel to Break Me, Shake Me

“What do you like, baby?” Hob asks again. “Tell me, I’ll give it to you.” Dream wants to say, look at me. Tell me you can't live without me. Instead, he places a hand on the alpha’s chest, pushing him back and off of him until Hob is sitting on his ankles watching him, his eyes never leaving Dream’s. Then Dream turns and presents himself, bracing on his elbows and knees as he spreads his legs as wide as he can manage.   “Take me rough, just like this,” Dream whines. “I want to feel you so deep inside me, I forget everything else.” Hob growls and grabs him by the hips, before the alpha finally, finally does what Dream’s been fantasizing about for weeks and sinks himself into the omega’s cunt. 

Tree:

From Chapter 3 of Set the Night on Fire

“You need to leave,” Dream says, his voice low and dangerous as he hears the adventuring party  advance further into his territory. By his estimates, they would be at the bottom of the trail leading up the mountain in an hour.  “What? Why?” Hob asks, sitting up and now fully awake. Dream does not explain further, he simply grabs Hob by the waist, careful not to squeeze too hard on the soft human’s body, before he dashes out of the cave and jumps from the cliff, taking off into the chilly morning air. “What the fucking hell!” Hob yells as Dream carries them high above the trees, and as far away from the fast approaching humans as the bounds of his curse will allow. He cannot allow the humans to see Hob. He cannot allow them to think Hob is aligned with him. If they do, they’ll kill him, and Dream would not be able to stand it if he loses another human companion.

tagging @pellaaearien @bazzybelle @arialerendeair @blueberrymffn @beauty-of-nyx @tj-dragonblade @bruce-wayne-simp @delta-pavonis @lostelfwriting

Your words are: blue, rich, sky, jacket, and heart

[stardustviolet]

“I was at the supermarket, picking up some little pre-mixed martinis to enjoy in the sun, when I sensed the store manager hovering behind me. “Got any ID for that?” he asked, sighing protractedly. I didn’t. “But I’m 30 years old,” I said, motioning towards my face. “See? 30.” He laughed as if I were an over-confident sixth grader trying my luck. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, scooping up the cans. “Sorry, no can do.”

Right then I felt like kicking over a nearby cereal display, spilling Shreddies everywhere. Think I’m a teenager? Watch me act like one, then. But I’m 30, so…my impulse control kicked in.

People love to say “consider it a compliment!” when you get mistaken for someone a lot younger, but I don’t at this point. I graduated from college nearly 10 years ago. I’ve worked as a journalist and editor for almost as long, been in multiple relationships, and navigated intense life experiences. I own a Hetty hoover. I’ve published a book. I remember AOL! When someone says I look younger than I am, what I really hear is: None of that counts. I still don’t take you seriously. Not that people in their 20s don’t get taken seriously, but I’m a different person to who I was at 24, 25, even 26. I want that to show, externally.

I don’t think I actually look physically younger than 30. But—like other millennials—I possibly give off a younger “energy.” My arms are covered in stick ’n’ pokes from my 20s. I look at ease in a cozy hoodie and low-slung jeans. Plus, I barely scrape 5’2”. The way I speak and hold myself hasn’t changed much in the past few years. And I’m not alone in this: my friends, who are broadly the same age as me, could easily be five years younger. My fiancée is a full-time musician with bleached blonde hair and a penchant for motocross jackets. As a kid, I didn’t picture 30 looking like this. My high school teachers were 30. We definitely look different from them. We act differently from them, too.

Much has already been said about millennials’ inability to “grow up.” We’re lambasted for not owning homes or having kids soon enough (who can do either of those things unless you have a hefty two-income household and/or an inheritance?). We’re living with friends and roommates like overgrown students for a lot longer (plenty of my single friends can’t afford to live alone). And things like marriage, or toiling away in the same career, appear to have lost their shine for many. Even so, that doesn’t explain why we don’t always look like the 30-somethings of yesteryear—or why I can’t get served a pink martini in my local supermarket.

I’m not the only person to be mulling this over. TikTok is overrun with videos about why millennials don’t seem to be aging “normally” (“why don’t millennials age?” currently has around 19.4 million views on TikTok). Some have hypothesized that it’s because “tweakments” like filler and botox are cheaper and more widely available now. Others have joked that it’s because millennials “have depression, so we’re indoors all day, and we don’t let the sunlight age our skin.” Still others have wondered whether it’s due to camera phones, and the fact that we see ourselves more often than ever before, meaning we pay more attention to our looks and outfits. Or maybe we are aging normally, we just don’t think we are, so we don’t act like it.

There are likely countless reasons for this time-body-mind warp. One of my personal theories is that our image of a “real adult” is simply outdated, and fails to take more recent style and culture shifts into account. Your parents and grandparents didn’t post photo dumps, wear athleisure in the workplace, or DM their colleagues “lmao” in their 30s. But frames of reference evolve constantly, and that’s what 30-somethings are like now. You don’t just suddenly get a cropped haircut and start saying the word “trendy” as you age. We’re stuck with an image of a 30-something that is no longer relevant. I’m sure Gen X—the Britpop kids, the ravers—didn’t always resemble dads. It must have taken a moment to catch up.

Before I continue, I must add: I’m well aware that age is mostly meaningless, and that attaching labels to a person based on an arbitrary yearly marker is a disservice to their individualism. I know that most people don’t actually “feel” their age, because they just feel like themselves (same here). And I am so much more interested in a person’s mind than how old they are. But that doesn’t mean I am not intrigued and curious about how I appear to others now that I’m in my 30s. I find myself fearful of becoming a Benjamin Button-like character—like when you google a child actor and they look the same as an adult, just weird and with facial hair. Are millennials like child actors? Stuck, and frozen in time, forever?

One of the most frightening things about existing is that the world keeps spinning and time keeps hurtling onwards. Stop, you feel like protesting, I’m not ready yet, I’m not ready. But the universe does not hear you, and it doesn’t care anyway. That’s the great tragedy and gift of living. We all move forward. And one day soon, Gen Z will wake up and they will be middle-aged, and Gen Alpha will have children of their own, and their grandparents will not be wearing slacks and cardigans and taping money to Christmas cards. They’ll be wearing Juicy Couture and Post Malone Crocs and sending skull emoji reacts to their grandkids’ messages.“

[eoieopda]

hello, ms jade!

i’d like to request a hobi x reader for the drabblepallooza, to the song “only for a moment” by lola marsh.

congrats on 1k!

- 🔭

this is a certified gd bop™️ and it gave me several different ideas that i really struggled to choose from?? i ended up assigning them numbers and then literally drawing one from a random generator lmao. anyways, here’s this!! 🤪

listen here

ft. fuck buddy hobi who accidentally stays the night. it’s implied that he and reader knocked boots the night before. brief reference to nudity, but def nothing explicit.

you stayed only for a moment / i said, "stay with me a while" / you faded like a pretty snowflake / that I was holding in my hand

When you wake up, it’s not due to the sunlight blaring through your never-shut blinds. There’s no insistent beeping of an alarm, no great clatter from the neighbor’s apartment echoing through your apartment’s crêpe paper walls. It’s warmth, surprising but perfect.

Your eyes open slowly. As they adjust to the light — seriously, you need to remember to shut your blinds at night — they settle on Hoseok’s face. Still asleep, his bottom lip flutters just slightly as he exhales through a barely-open mouth. He’s never stayed before. He came over often — weekly, for months — after dark; he was never still around when the sun came up.

This feels special. A little treat, entirely unexpected and exclusively for you.

Really, you could stare at him like this all day and never allow yourself to blink. You could map the heights of his cheekbones, the sharp L-shaped angle of his jaw, and the adorably upturned tip of his nose. Hoseok is beautiful, even while he mumbles through his dreams.

Maybe he feels the way you’re studying him. As if you’d flipped some secret switch, his eyes crack open.

Based on the shocked arches of his brows, Hoseok doesn’t recognize his surroundings. He doesn’t sit up to join you or say a word, so you both simply exist there in silence. The quiet seems to get louder as you watch his eyes scan over every surface of your room. Though he’s been here many times before, you can’t say that he’s ever truly seen it.

There’s a tiny twitch at the left corner of his mouth that prompts you to look at whatever he is: a framed photo of you and your older brother at your high school graduation. There you were, a decade ago, with your short, choppy layers jutting out like porcupine quills. You should’ve been held liable for the abuse your hair suffered at the hands of your flat iron. Those split ends are visible to you now, even from where you’re sitting. You can almost hear the way they sizzled.

Just like Hoseok, you continue to quietly assess that embarrassing old photo. Unlike Hoseok, you steal glances out of the corner of your eye to gauge the reaction. He’s smirking at the sight of you back then, thoroughly amused by the unfortunate fashion you flaunted. For you, it’s like watching a car crash: painful but compelling. You find it extremely difficult to look away.

Maybe you could forgive the unfilled eyebrows, barely registering on your uninhibited forehead. That said, you’d never get over the bright purple eyeshadow smeared — not blended — over your eyelids. There isn’t a darker color in sight to even hint at a crease? That poor, misguided baby.

You cringe a bit and glance over at Hoseok, who still hasn’t looked your way. “You stayed,” You state the obvious and try to stash the giddiness away, out of sight.

“It looks that way,” Hoseok’s voice is heavy with the sleepiness still lingering. Slightly scratchy, too. So, this is what he sounds like in the morning. He reels in the arm that had been extended under your pillow. Had he cuddled you at some point in the night? Then, when he’s free to do so, he scrubs his hands over his face to wake himself up more fully.

For the first time, his eyes flicker over to you and oh my god, you want to be the first thing he sees every morning.

“Can we make breakfast?” Hoseok asks quietly with a hand on his bare stomach. Oh. You beg your pupils not to dilate when you remember the state of him. “I’m starving.”

When your heart somersaults in your chest, it takes a considerable amount of willpower to keep from doing the same yourself. Instead, you slip out of bed like a normal human being, grinning and nodding a little too eagerly. Quick as a flash, you re-introduce your baggy sweatshirt and sleep shorts to your body.

As you head off for the kitchen, you steal a quick peek over your shoulder at Hoseok, who still hasn’t gotten to his feet. He’s upright now and facing away from you. The well-defined muscles of his back nearly have you stumbling.

Beautiful, even more so in daylight. Could you keep him — like this?

You make a beeline for your cabinets to figure out what you have at your disposal — not much — and then you turn to the refrigerator. Bent in half with your face in the cold, you holler, “Kimchi eggs or dakjuk?”

Hoseok had made no noise whatsoever as he entered your kitchen, so the suddenness of his voice right behind you makes you jump. Your head collides with the underside of the freezer door. With a yelp, you wheel around with your hand gingerly rubbing the forming lump.

Instantly, you note the way he grimaces. Gently, he reaches out and places his hand on on top of yours. “You okay?” His hand is gone again before he continues speaking, “I’m so sorry. I thought you heard me come in.”

You blink. Did he say something? You were still buffering through the feeling of this rare, non-sexual contact. He’d touched you a thousand times in places much more intimate, but this is what makes your stupid heart skip a beat?

“Kimchi eggs or dakjuk?” You repeat, barely above a whisper this time around.

Hoseok smiles at you. Then, he steps closer. You wait, wait, wait, for him to kiss you; he simply glances over your shoulder into your refrigerator. He chuckles when he comes to the same conclusion you had: you need to go to the store. Your heart drops a little lower in your chest.

“Kimchi eggs,” He hums, then he provides an explanation you wish he hadn’t, “I have to head out soon.”

You force a smile, then you nod, then you turn around to grab the carton of eggs and container of kimchi from their respective shelves. Hoseok moved again when you weren’t looking — the reflexes on that man are simply absurd — and he now digs through one of your cabinets for a pan. There’s no reason for him to know where you keep them, so he’s either psychic or a phenomenal guesser.

He looks pleased with himself when he turns back around with a frying pan in hand; the triumphant smirk on his face makes you giggle. When you reach out to take it, though, Hoseok wags his finger at you, “If I’m eating the very last thing in your refrigerator, the least I can do is prepare it for you.”

“Are you sure?” You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from admitting that no man has ever offered to cook for you before. If you tell him that, who knows what else you’ll let slip?

Hoseok answers by shooing you away and clicking on the bottom-right stove burner. To your surprise, he hums while he cooks — occasionally getting so caught up in the song that he sings. You watch adoringly with your chin in your hand as he finishes, plates his masterpiece, and sets yours down in front of you on the kitchen island.

He looks so natural as he plops down on the stool next to you, but Hoseok has never joined you in your kitchen before. You want to linger at his side all day, but you know that’s not how this arrangement works. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t ache a little, though.

Clearly, you’re both famished because your meals and breezy conversation are both finished too quickly.

To your dismay, Hoseok glances down at his watch. He sucks a breath in through his teeth before he looks up to meet your eyes. “Shit,” he says sheepishly, “I’m so sorry to leave you with the dishes, but I’m apparently going to be late for —“

“It’s fine!” You chirp with a smile you’re sure doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s not, but who are you to say so? “Thank you for cooking.”

He flattens his palms against the countertop and pushes himself to him feet. Casually and gently, Hoseok bumps his fist against your shoulder with a sideways smile.

The only thing he says before leaving is, “Go to No Brand or something later, okay? Your refrigerator makes me sad.”

[oliveo-il]

Sunflower sure is neat, take some headcanons

They both absolutely love cats and talked about how they were gonna adopt one when they were kids. They did, he’s a brown gabby named Tofu.

Sunny is obliviously affectionate with touch and flustered by words and Basil is the opposite.

Basil is terrified of bugs despite being a gardener, he likes bees and butterflies but that’s it. He HATES ants with a passion.

Sunny doesn’t like working outside usually, but enjoys planting seeds and watering the flowers with Basil.

Sunny gets sunburns very easily while Basil gets freckles and a very light tan

Their favorite flowers to grow are sunflowers. 

Their home is practically drowning with plants. The curtains are never closed during the day so that they can get all the sunlight they need.

They like to go on walks together when it’s cool out. Basil stops to pet every dog he sees. 

Sunny really doesn’t like dogs but Basil just adores all animals.

Sunny loves art of every kind. He paints a lot, usually flowers and other still life. He writes poetry and is somehow always shy about showing his work to Basil. He’s obviously overwhelmingly supportive and showers all of it with praise.

They both hate pda with a passion and holding hands is the only exception. Mari teases them for being sappy as if she’s not shamelessly flirting with Hero half the time.

Basil is taller and stronger than Sunny, which he finds offensive.

Kel and Aubrey are both sports nerds and are always trying to get Basil and Sunny to play baseball/basketball. They will on occasion, and both absolutely suck.

Sunny is naturally thin but isn’t frail or weak. He’s still a twig compared to all his friends though since all his hobbies are calm and indoors.

Neither Sunny nor Basil like to go out on actual dates. They prefer to simply relax with each other, stay at home with their cats, and do whatever they want.

Basil is constantly taking pictures and has filled his photo album completely. He displays the rest of them on his wall with little fairy lights. He plans on getting a second album though since he worries that they’ll be damaged.

When Mari and Aubrey dyed their hair, Basil wanted to do it to. He was too nervous to go through with at the time but later on he dyed the tips of his hair light green.

Sunny loves that Basil wears a flower in his hair and is the one who picks them. Basil always wear Sunny’s flowers until they wilt.

Sunny loves horror movies and Basil can handle them but they aren’t his favorite. He doesn’t like them mostly because they’re unrealistic and too similar. On movie nights with the gang he just uses them as an excuse to cling to Sunny and fall asleep.

Sunny is an artist and is fascinated my hands. He likes to play with Basils hands and use them for reference. He finds it interesting how different their hands are and also compares his hands to the rest of his friends.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

It Will Be

For @whumptober 2022, No. 10. Using Alt prompt 8: Made to Watch

Jameson’s masterlist

CW: PTSD/trauma recovery, panic attack, references to past torture, noncon, murder, dehumanization 

-

It's too hot to move.

Nat’s air conditioning is broken, and while the guy fiddles around with it outside, Jameson lays splayed on the hardwood floor in the living room directly under the ceiling fan, his joints aching with the heat. 

Heat is supposed to help, he thinks, but his bullshit body only throbs worse with every trickle of sweat he feels moving slowly down his temples to soak into the soft hair growing in where his bald spots used to be. Still there… but less obvious now. 

Brief bursts of relief come with the brush of cool air from the fan, or when he manages to get his stiff fingers to close around a cold wet rag he’s keeping nearby to wipe his face with. 

He took his shirt off - only Nat and Vince might see him, and the scars aren't new to Nat. Vince is gone, off to meet someone and, he told Nat before he left yesterday, start unraveling this stupid pointless life. 

Nat told Jameson after he was gone that Vince is selling his house, planning to disappear and start over. Like he's one of us, Jameson has said, and Nat only smiled.

Very like that, she had said quietly. 

Jameson gets it. He couldn't go back to Nanda anymore, even if Nanda was still alive. Nanda would barely recognize him, and probably wouldn't like him like this. He wouldn't want to leave Allyn, either, and Nanda would hate Allyn's willowy grace and softness.

And Jameson wouldn't give them up to go back, not anymore. It feels like a betrayal to Nanda, but it’s not like Nanda is here to punish for it.

Jameson just isn't the pet any longer - and Vince, having slit a throat in his own house, isn't really just Vincent Shield. 

Nat likes and trusts them both, even though both of them are killers, murderers who didn't pull back when they thought their own survival was on the line. It makes Jameson wonder what Nat has done, that she's so unfazed by it all. 

Maybe they just aren't the first killers she's made a home for. 

The TV’s on, but he isn’t really listening to it. It’s just droning background noise, a pile of nothing important that lets his brain slide like syrup through his nonsense thoughts about Nat and Vince. It’s sort of nice to do absolutely nothing. 

Nearby, up on the couch, Trash Cat sleeps on her back, paws curled, her little pink tongue just barely visible peeking out between her teeth. One of her paws twitches, as if she hunts mice in her sleep and has caught one. 

For all the misery of the heat, it isn't so bad to just lay here with the air moving slow over his skin like Nanda's softest kisses.

“... investigation reopened by federal agents,” Drones the TV, Jameson barely aware of the words, “As new evidence emerges in the cold case involving longtime Rancher's Rest resident Robert Weber, recently revealed to be responsible for a string of disappearances throughout the Western United States over the past three decades when his own sudden death resulted in the discovery of more than two dozen bodies, many still unidentified. New evidence suggests that at least two of Weber's victims may in fact still be alive."

Jameson shoots upright so fast he lurches, stomach flipping as his back protests how he twists to look, wide-eyed, at the television screen. 

Robert?

A still photo of the front of Robert's house is right there behind the news anchor's shoulder, overgrown by now with a weedy front yard and little saplings popping up from unclean gutters, a broken window. Yellow crime scene tape winds around, muddy and faded with time and sunlight. 

How long has it been there? When did they find out about him, about his basement? How long ago did they find his house and realize what had happened inside? How long after Jameson had fled, begging his legs to cooperate until he could find somewhere safe to hide?

The yard looks awful, except for the bobbing bright yellow heads of too-tall dandelions, untouched and unencumbered, free to tip themselves up like tiny suns. 

Robert would hate it being so messy outside, Jameson thinks. Even the rosebushes look straggly and dead or dying with no one to water them. Robert loved his rosebushes. 

It's with a sudden flush of bitter, hateful satisfaction that he thinks, good. Everything you touched died, why not the roses, too, motherfucker?

Two unknown sets of fingerprints. One set… one set had to be his, right? He feels a droplet of saltwater escape the nape of his neck, dip under the neck of his shirt, and trickle slowly down the center of his back. His legs bend at the knee, just a little, without his consent or knowledge. He can't stand up.

"Sets of fingerprints lifted from inside the house have long been of interest to investigators," Continues the news anchor with an expression of carefully neutral severity, leaning into the seriousness of the subject while staying distant from it. Her voice is a burst of something floral on Jameson's tongue, like rosewater, but bitter. "The FBI now says that they have been able to locate a match for one set for the very first time."

All the sweat on Jameson turns to ice. 

He doesn't even try.

He just swallows, unable to look away as a photo of the man himself is on the screen, the little tagline Prints identified in Rancher's Rest cold case.

It's Robert, sitting at the kitchen table. Oh, Jameson knelt by that table for many meals, waiting to be fed whatever scraps the bastard put into a bowl and set on the floor, forcing him to eat without his hands or starve. In the photo, though, Robert’s seemingly alone, just smiling and drinking a beer. 

So who took the photo?

It wasn't me, Jameson thinks, even as he wracks his brain trying to find any such memory. He wasn't allowed to use his hands, ever, except for when Robert wanted to fuck into them and then laugh at the pet's defiant glare as he made him beg before he'd clean off the muzzle and his face. He wore those fucking mittens too much to have ever taken a photo. The fucking mittens. What Robert, cackling with laughter, called his paws. 

Oh, are they hurting today, dog? Maybe if you're good I'll let you have a couple drinks and settle that hurt down…

Jameson's fingers ache now, too, as if simply remembering summons the pain. He looks down to see them curled at the knuckles, not quite in fists, and shudders - but then he looks back to the TV. 

Seeing Robert's face… it feels like even after he's dead, he can make Jameson look at whatever he wants. 

Robert never, ever had people over, never let anyone in the house. He always had a victim in the basement, or at least all their rotting bodies stinking up the air-

Jameson groans, leaning over and pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes. He can still smell it, that's the worst part. Just remembering it brings back the goddamn smell. His stomach flips just recalling the decay, the sickly-sweetness layered underneath the Lysol spray or scented candles from the fucking Wal-Mart. It always smelled like death, underneath everything else. He jerks forward, fighting the heave that tries to travel up his throat. 

Robert knew his house smelled bad. He never let anyone in the house.

So who the fuck took the photo, if it hadn't been Jameson?

Had there been someone else before him, or after? Someone who wasn’t killed over moments or days or a couple weeks at most, someone who was allowed to stay in the cage in the living room, watching the light behind the curtains to track the passing days?

"The little town of Rancher’s Rest was torn asunder a few years ago by the discovery of more than a dozen bodies buried in the basement of a beloved, longtime local resident who turned out to be hiding a very dark secret."

Jameson flinches as if the Anchorwoman had slapped him when she speaks again. He'd gotten lost in his mind, distracted by the memory of Robert's smile, and the way he would press his fingers into the paws until he could feel Jameson's trapped fingers twitching, desperate to straighten out again. 

He wore the mittens all the fucking time except in the cage and the basement… until he left. He'd had them off when Robert tried to make him help bury the last one…

Did they find his prints on the shovel handle? On doorknobs, or the dresser where he'd gotten some clothes? 

But, no. Two sets and only one identified. Maybe it's someone else. Whoever took the photo of Robert, maybe. 

Please, he thinks with a desperate fear followed by immediate, painful shame for being so weak. Please not mine, please don't let them be mine. 

"Between multiple still-unidentified victims, implications found in Robert’s own belongings that he may be responsible for even more deaths than previously known, and the lingering question of the fingerprints, this cold case has never been far from the mind of FBI investigators. Today, at a press conference held at the Butte county courthouse in Chico, lead investigator Agent Roland Brandt announced a person of interest has been identified in relation to prints found inside the home."

There’s a second where she stops speaking, and Jameson can’t move. He can’t breathe. He can only think to himself, in a loop that lasts forever and happens in an instant, please don’t let it be me please please don't let it be me as the screen shifts to recording of a man in a dark suit standing before a small handful of reporters. 

Jameson's eyes close, but a hot breath that chills against his neck forces them open again. Watch, Robert whispers, voice dripping like oil inside him. A flash of cold white light. Jameson stops breathing. He can hear his own blood rushing through his ears, but it isn't enough to drown out the news. 

“I-I don’t want to-”

Watch, you useless goddamn dog, Robert says. The hair at the nape of Jameson’s neck moves, shifted by the air from the ceiling fan, but Jameson feels it as Robert’s fingers grazing the short soft hair just at the base of his skull. 

He does what he’s told.

No matter how hard he fought, he always did, in the end.

They'll know, he thinks, even his thoughts spiking with panic, barely even coherent, just fear, and the pain. They'll know I did it, they'll know I killed him, they'll find me and scan my barcode and send me back to WRU to be refurbished, they'll find Nat, they'll find Allyn…

They'll take me away from Allyn-

"... find some prints remaining on a series of photographs found in the deceased's possessions," The investigator is saying, sounding almost bored even as the hysterical wordless fear is rising higher and higher within Jameson's mind. 

His hands hover in the air, knuckles bent and twisted into a shape they are no longer forced to hold. His breath is short and shallow, gasps that barely have oxygen, and he feels dizzy as his lungs cry for more and he can't provide it. 

They won't even let me remember Allyn-

"Thanks to some accidental preservation due to being packed how they were, we have strong fingerprints, and now a strong match."

They'll take my memories of Nanda away-

"No," Jameson whispers. Tears run down his cheeks, blistering hot compared to the cold fear-sweat everywhere else. He blinks them away as they blur his vision. "I won't lose Nanda. You can't fucking take him away, I'm the only one who really knew him, you c-can't-"

"A recent arrest made in Idaho has given us our first break in this case in a long time. Unfortunately, the individual posted bail and disappeared before we received notice of the matching prints. I've distributed the mugshot of the person of interest we are searching for-"

Wait. Idaho?

Jameson feels Trash Cat rub the corner of her eye and her cheek against one of his frozen hands, as she pushes her way onto his lap, a warm slight soft weight that starts up a loud, cracked purring. 

The mugshot is the next thing on the screen. It's a man older than Jameson, by a decade, maybe a little more. He has short blond hair, kind of ashy-colored, slightly longer on top and shorn short on the sides. He isn't looking into the camera.

He has scar around his neck, an angular face with sharp cheek- and jawbones. There's a scar on his nose visible even through a television screen. It's small, but Jameson knows what it means. 

He knows what the neck scar means, too. 

This man has worn a collar before… and a muzzle. 

His eyes are empty, blank above a flat expression. He went into his own mind a long time ago, and maybe never came all the way out. 

Jameson knows that look, too.

"If anyone has seen this man or comes into contact with them, please let us know immediately. He is approximately six feet, two inches tall. Officers who arrested him stated he has an accent, probably European, but they weren't sure. He did not provide any answers to officers’ questions, and his identification was proven to be falsified. His current alias is Charles Ingvall, also known as Chuck or Chaz.”

Chaz? People are still nicknamed fucking Chaz?

“Charles Ingvall is currently wanted for human trafficking charges. We have reason to believe he has become involved with the criminal elements in the expanding pet liberation movement and is guilty of trafficking runaway pets over the border with Canada. Since his fingerprints matched one of the unidentified sets of prints in Robert Weber’s house, we believe he has information pertaining to Robert Weber's case and that he resided in the house for some time."

Jameson exhales. 

Someone else.

They're hunting someone else.

It's not him. 

Someone else left that house alive, and they're looking for that poor bastard, not him. 

Then he remembers the other set of fingerprints, still unidentified, and feels himself go cold and still again. If they ever check with WRU, they’ll know it’s him. They’ll tie it back to Nanda’s death, they’ll know…

Jameson curls over Trash Cat, who makes a soft mrrow of protest, but she doesn't try to twist away. Instead, she settles in, and purrs louder. 

It's not him they’re looking for…

Not yet.

But one day, it will be.

Told you, he nearly hears Robert whisper, with that awful laughter creeping around the edges of his tone, that I’d own your life and your death, too. And doesn’t this count?

-

For Whumptober taglist: @whumpworld 

Jameson’s taglist:   @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[llondonfog]

My diasomnia family Valentine's day headcanons 💚

Lilia presents his V-day gifts in the most frilly and gaudy heart-shaped boxes he can find. They sparkle in the sunlight and are covered in a bunch of cute little bat stickers he put on them. When his valentine opens the box, it's completely filled with Dark Matter. They pass out, the sound of his laughter echoing in their ears.

Sebek is only physically capabale of gifting people items that pertain to the young Lord, be it pocket sized photos of malleus, a self-made compilation of stories of malleus's greatest triumphs, or a one-use ticket that permits someone to directly look at malleus for five (5) seconds (the ticket idea was signed off by malleus).

Silver is incredibly thoughtful with his gifts. His father taught him all about how to be a proper prince and he really takes that to heart when it comes to gift giving. He'll pay close attention whenever he talks to his valentine and hone in on any mentions of things they like or desire. His gifts can sometimes turn out to be more practical than romantic (like giving his valentine a new coat because its been getting cold out and he remembered they mentioned not packing a thick enough one when they enrolled at school, rather than giving them chocolate or flowers), but anything he picks out always ends up being just what his valentine wanted.

Malleus presumes that others enjoy the same things he does - that being experiences rather than objects. He will invite his valentine to come visit some old ruins or abandoned locations with him, and he'll happily regale them about the history of the place and tell them all about the peoples who once lived there. He'll even use his teleporation magic and take them to go admire his favorite gargoyles with him. (Yes, he asks them to take photos of him and the gargoyles together).

incoherent blubbering noises about how wholesome these hcs are!!

Lilia — I LOVE THIS AND 100% AGREE!!! Somehow, I feel that Lilia gets more joy than he gives on Valentine's Day from his lovingly handcrafted gifts... He has to keep the youth reminded of the fact that fae can be so devilishly capricious, and irresistibly cute too!

Sebek — NOT THE HAND-WRITTEN AND HOME-STITCHED POCKET REFERENCE BOOK OF MALLEUS' GREATEST QUOTES, that has taken me out!! (Silver is staring at him in utter bewilderment as Sebek hands him his copy with smug exuberance and one slightly crumpled ticket as if the previous owner had a crisis of faith before handing it over to a certain sleepy human; as if your paltry gift of hair gel could even hold a candle to my offerings, Silver!)

Silver — Currently he's a bit miffed that Sebek didn't appreciate the effort that he went through to get him that hair gel; the poor boy was subjected to hours of the finer details of potion-making and hair care from Vil and Azul! BUT THIS IS SO SWEET, MY HEART? The fact that he'd try so hard to stay awake and pay attention to what his loved ones need to make their lives easier aaaaaa Lilia you can claim NO credit about how thoughtful and darling this boy is, we should just be thankful he wasn't ruined by your impudent nature.

Malleus — I WAS CACKLING; not prince malleus having zero social skills and a certain haughty demeanor to assume that looking at stone gargoyles for hours would be the perfect valentine's day experience NEVER CHANGE HIM!! He tried to take his family with him one time; Silver fell asleep on a gargoyle, Sebek was fretting over his every step lest he trip over exposed stone, and Lilia was more amused to see how many crows would land on Silver's shoulders before he woke up. Needless to say, it was only one time.

[muutosarchive]

bio for my earth ghoulette beneath the cut, & i'm going to be posting it to her page as well! tw for animal death (i guess, nothing graphic but discussions) keep in mind that this is a first draft, not well proofed so it will be probably worked on a bit here & there but the general story is here. things in the bio can be tweaked based on portrayal, for certain interactions.

Flora Ghoul (aka Fawn, Virgo, Fleur)

The second ghoul summoned by future Papa, Primo Emeritus I, in his early adulthood. (after 'Water' or 'Chain' Ghoul). She was given a feminine title, considering many factors. Though due to her never having claimed a favorite, some call her what they please. She does not care one way or the other. Even from her early days at the abbey, Flora was not prone to speaking and would only speak words on very rare occasions. She appeared with her elemental symbol forever engraved on either hand, which would be an ironic reminder of what Primo would later find out, were her undeniable gifts of elemental magic. That which he helped her hone, with care. Named in a feminine light, she does have this in spades despite her large form and lumbering movements. She's slow, careful & deliberate. So, as she is closer to the universe than humanity, she is less socially aware than other ghouls. She rarely so much as moves without it having a purpose, and in her earlier days she is a selective mute and does not speak often (and does so carefully). She's similar in size to mountain in and out of glamour, (or very large - larger than your typical Ghoul) and has child-bearing, wide set hips. She has long, hip-length hair that's snow white, and horns that resemble deer antlers, which eventually began to grow growing vines. These now lightly coat the entirety of the antlers. Her antlers are pale beige, like her skin tone, which also resembles a fawn. (It's a light beige on her face and down the front of her neck/down to mid chest, & at the back of her neck is where her fur begins and darkens to a darker brown with white spots). She has this fur everywhere except for the areas mentioned, and her hands. She also has deer hooves, and ears, and a black deer-like snout, though it does not protrude as far as a normal snout would). Here's a photo for reference.

She found out early that she enriched, and fertilized the soil that she touched or walked upon. She also affects and naturally enhances and/or helps the natural flora grow, as well as anything planted by man. As long as it grows in soil, she can affect it either positively or negatively. Though she would never think to do this negatively, as she is too empathetic and loving towards the earth. Inspired by Demeter, and the Virgo Maiden, she brings bountiful harvest. If the ministry wanted they could grow all their own crops and even make a killing selling what they do not feed their flock. She mostly affects the fertility of the earth, though if she notices that the plants require rainfall, it is rumored that she can summon the rain and it will remain for as long as the earth she presides over requires it. This is similarly said for the sunlight, and it has been reported that the Abbey has been struck by abnormal (but not unheard of) sightings of rain falling specifically over the building, and nowhere else. She has neither confirmed nor denied that this is true. Eventually she found that she could bring dead flora back to life. When she finds this out, she reports it to Primo, who then helps her hone her magic. However, in order to be able to perform Necromancy and resurgence, the Ghoul has to bind her vocal chords as sacrifice to Lucifer, to grant her with the power of resurgence. However, she still has a lot of work to do in order to perfect her craft to the point where she can actually resurrect a human, or a ghoul's life by returning their souls to their body. Primo helped her, though it was put on hold to a degree during his papacy and picked up more-so afterward. She helps maintain/maintains the greenhouse, and makes sure the grounds are lush and everything is running smoothly. with any plants needed for ritual practices or spells. She, over time, learns how to resurrect small animals (such as rats, squirrels, birds and bunnies), which eventually grows to roadkill like raccoons or cats and dogs. She also can heal wounds, and other ailments of the flesh. (which also starts small and grow with her other abilities). This is along with her ability to perform black magic of other sorts as well, and magic done by means of ritual as mentored by her summoner.

She is now fully mute from the day of her binding, though she does not mind. Primo learned and subsequently taught her sign language, and she can communicate this way to anybody who knows. She can also hear perfectly well, and can write and/or play with ouija to speak, although usually it is not required as she is already more comfortable not being a verbal presence. When Primo and the Emeritus brothers (even Nihil) were pronounced dead, she was stricken with grief. She tried to bring back Papa Nihil, though she was only able to bring his spirit to the mortal plane by using Necromancy, and was not able to fully reunite the Papa with his earthly form. She will eventually be the one to resurrect Papas I-III, and re-tether their souls to their bodies. Until that day she continues to practice, until she can revive the Emeritus brothers to their true former glory.

[hashanur]

Make Money Modeling From Home | Home Based Business Ideas

My Youtube video list: https://youtu.be/OAr8N0X6Mog

Welcome to PROMO HUB USA!

MODELING from home to make money is possible!

HOW TO START MODELING FROM HOME

What you’ll need to apply to agencies are digitals. These can easily be taken with your own camera or camera phone.

Here are some digitals that I took at home with the help of my dad. Very easy to do!

Many agencies will ask for the same type of digitals so having a set of digitals “ready-to-send” will save you time and stress.

How to set up Digitals

I would highly recommend taking digitals without makeup. Yes, you read that right. No makeup.

Use a plain wall as your backdrop. Make sure there are no shapes, patterns, or other objects behind you.

Use natural light whenever possible. This light can come from a window or if you can shoot outside, make sure that the sunlight is not directly on your face as it might make you squint. We don’t want that.

If the lighting on one side of your body isn’t balanced, use a light on the other side to compensate. For example, when I shot indoors, the window was giving light to my right side and my left side was a little too dark. I added a ring light on my right to balance out the darkened side.

What do you wear?!

Form fitting clothes like a tank top and skinny jeans are great. Agencies want to see the shape of your body.

Stick to neutral colors like black, white or gray.

DO NOT: Wear clothes that have bright colors or crazy patterns.

How about your hair?

Unless there are clear guidelines, the general rule is to keep your hair from your face whether it's in a ponytail or behind your ears. Especially for close ups.

What types of shots should I take?

This is a general list. Be sure to take these photos smiling and not smiling. This will give you a wide range of digitals to choose from when sending to agencies:

Closeup of your face

full side profile

¾ of profile

mid body

full body

full body side profile

full body back (facing away from the camera)

Different agencies ask for different photos, so it can get annoying when you have to re-take new pictures for every agency. But having the core group of pictures listed above, you can save time and immediately apply to those agencies you have your eye on.

Once you have all these photos, you are ready to start applying to agencies. This is all you need.

How to find agencies to apply to?

There are 4 ways:

Google “modeling agency in (X city/state)”. X being the city/state you want to be represented in. If you are not sure if the agencies you have found are legit, you can always refer to my steps on how to figure out if an agency is legit or not.

Google “talent agency in (X city/state)”.

Go to models.com . This is a great website to find legit agencies that you can apply to. Just click on the tab “agencies” and then you can easily search per country or city.

If you are petite, meaning under 5’7’’, and you are not sure which agencies are petite friendly, you can go to the list I’ve created here.

Once you find an agency you like, go to their website and then look for “apply”, “become a model”, “get scouted”, “contact us” or anything with similar wording to find an online form or an email address where you can submit your information, digitals and measurements.

If there is a space where you can write something about yourself, make sure whatever you write shows your personality. Be You. Be True.

And that’s it!

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[gyllenhaalstories]

THROUGH THE AFTERNOON — SUGAR DADDY!JAKE GYLLENHAAL 🎂

summary: why get out of bed to celebrate your birthday when you can be a pillow princess?

warnings: mentions of food, curse words, established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut (use of the princess pet name, daddy kink, praise kink, finger sucking, mild spit kink, biting & marking, nipple play, humping, eating out, fingering, masturbation, messy cumshot). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 3300

photos credits: @/gyllenhaaldaily (cropped) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and, just like last year, i’m making it everyone’s problem! this year’s self indulgence is that reader is clearly PLUS SIZE and the story includes descriptions of a fat body. i highly suggest you check out THIS FIC and THIS OTHER FIC to understand their dynamic. 🍰 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!    

Jake was putting things away. It was a special weekend, the two of you were celebrating your birthday. For the occasion, he sent all his at-house employees away. For privacy purposes, intimacy too, and mostly just so he could enjoy your presence.

And your presence, so far, had consisted of eating delicious cake and other desserts he purchased himself from a nearby, fancy pastry shop. In bed, out of all places. You shared a plate and devoured one delicacy after the other, reminiscing of the previous year and discussing your hopes and dreams for next one.

You also watched the day go by, the sunlight change and dance around the bedroom until it was late in the afternoon. You clung to Jake’s body, silently asking for just five more minutes of basking in his warm embrace.

Instead, he decided there had been enough of those five minutes that turned into hours and into the two of you relaxing the day away. “It’s a special day. We need to do something.” Jake kept repeating.

“The day is perfect the way it is.” Despite your reassurance, he still slipped out of the bed and left the room, bringing with him dirty plates and various cardboard containers. His black sweat pants laid low on his waist, giving you the best view of his Adonis belt when he leaned closer for one last kiss and of his back dimples when he left the room.

So. You waited for him to come back.

Not without hearing your exaggerated sighs and whines, Jake came back to the bedroom with empty hands, but with something much different about him.

You sat on the bed, the silk sheets wrapped around your chest to cover yourself. You watched Jake put away boxes of expensive watches, gifts from connections with brands and purchases he made on the regular basis to cheer him up.

He felt your eyes piercing through him and spoke while he walked in the direction of his comically spacious walk-in closet. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

You let the question sink in. There was everything and nothing going through your head. Thoughts were fighting, words were failing to escape your throat.

The silence worried him, he froze in place. Consequently, the symphony of noises as he put away his luxury clothing items stopped. “You heard me.” His head poked through the large doors, you could read the ounce of concern that cast a shadow over his face.

“You look good in my clothes.”

He was now standing in the doorway, head tilted with a strand of hair that fell off his both effortful and effortless swept hair.

“You heard me.” You chuckled and squinted enough to notice the blush on his cheeks.

“Thank you.” He gave you a wink and disappeared in the closet again. He spoke, louder so you could hear him. “Do you mind?” He referred to the creamy white sweater he stole from the clothes he kept for you at his place.

“Absolutely not.” As soon as he entered the room again, you gestured in a grabby-hands way to get Jake to come closer. You caressed the soft fabric of the sweater with your hands, smoothing it over his body.

The fit at the shoulders was a bit tight, not that he minded. The sleeves were slightly scrunched up around his wrists. But the rest fell softly around his sides, loosely, comfortably.

“I like it a lot, actually.” Your hands travelled to find his and give them a squeeze until you let your thumb rub on his skin and the bump of his veins. “You should wear my stuff more often.”

“Is that so?” He arched a brow until you answered with a nod. “I didn’t have to tell you to use your words. Such a good girl.” His right hand let go of yours so that he could place a finger under your chin and tilt your head up to place a kiss on your lips.

You pulled away to speak. “Will you think of me when you will wear the clothes you bought me?” It was his turn to squint, unsure of where you were heading with that question. So, you continued. “You’ll remember how we fucked by the fireplace in Aspen and I wore this gift you got me for the trip.”

His tongue ran over his lips when you marked a pause. “Keep going.”

“You can wear the black shirt you got me in a hurry when you forgot about a meeting and made me pretend to be your assistant only to tease me the whole time with your hand up in my skirt.” You looked up at him, through your lashes. “Or the blazer from the fundraiser gala we sneaked out of. Or the cardigan when we visited your business partner and you took me to his study. And that —”  

“Fuck.” He threw his head back with a wave of laughter, there was a hint of embarrassment too as he relived each and every memory you listed. “Now you got me thinking of them all at once.”

“What’s wrong, Daddy? You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.” You teased Jake, faking an innocent smile. “Welcome to what’s going through my head most of the time.”

Jake placed his hands on your cheeks and captured your lips in a second, much deeper, kiss. “I love knowing I’m on your mind so often.”

You pouted when he moved his face away from yours.

“Got Daddy on your mind like the good princess you are.” He presented his right pointer finger to your lips and you opened your mouth, slowly.

He took a long look at you. The bed sheets pooled around your tummy and waist, your chest rose suddenly when his digit pushed past your parted lips, swollen from all the kisses you exchanged during the day. You laid your hands on his hips, fists gripping on the soft fabric while you tugged on it.

He pushed his finger deeper inside of your mouth, he pressed on your tongue to keep you from twirling it around his digit. Jake’s jaw dropped when he inserted a second finger, as if he had not done this countless times before.

You kept one hand on his hip, resting on the barely apparent curve of his waist. You wrapped your hand around his exposed wrist, pushing his own hand closer in your direction.

He clicked his tongue at you, warning you about your eagerness.

You could practically watch the gears turn in his head from one look into his darkened blue eyes.

He was debating whether to keep up the act, teach you one more lesson about patience and manners that would go inside one ear and out the other before he would be done. Or, if he should oblige —  give in. It was your special day. But every day was special as long as you were a part of it. He swallowed thickly, blinked the thoughts away.

You let go of his fingers with a pop, his skin turned a pale shade of red after you basically left a faint hickey on them. “That’s all you want to do, Daddy? Just stand there and watch me?” You raised a brow at him.

His response was quick, instinctive. In a swift movement, he pulled the sweater up and over his head, tossing it on the plush carpet on the floor. His lips were pressed against yours, rough and hungry, he pushed you down so you could lay on your back while he climbed on the bed and hovered your body.

“That’s better.” Your cockiness was rewarded with a smirk that spread across his face and morphed into an amused smile.

He planted one hand on each side of your torso, right below your armpits to lock you in place. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

You rolled your eyes, his threats, more often than not, fell flat. They did now, at least, after you had gotten acquainted that there was nothing but an heart of gold behind his cold, stern, almost cliché facade.

Before you could open your mouth to retort, Jake’s teeth sunk in the soft skin of your neck and you felt the tip of his tongue gently brushing over the marks he left. He kept going, biting and sucking his way down to your collarbone and over your throat. There was an appetite burning inside of him to mark you up in places he tried to keep pristine. There was nothing on the calendar for the next couple of days. Plenty of time to heal.

Plenty of time to use you like his own perfect, precious toy. You moaned at your own thought, and at the feeling of his warm breath tickling your nipples.

His nose pressed on the flesh of your breast while he sucked more of your nipple in his mouth, lapping and sucking at the sensitive bud. He replicated the same action to the other nipple until the moans that left your mouth turned into needy whimpers that sent an electric shock straight to his cock.

While his upper half was exposed, and at the mercy of the scratching marks you left all over his back, his bulge was growing tight in his pants and you felt him press harder against your thigh. You slid your hands down his back so they rested on the curve at the end of it, pushing him more against you.

Jake pulled away from your chest, a strand of spit dripped down his flattened tongue. The strand broke when his body started to move against yours, determined to get off on the friction of humping your thigh. He let out a grunt when you dug your fingernails, your hands back up on his shoulder blades. “Wanna let me get a taste?”

You nodded frantically and begged for him to give you more. You repeated Daddy, daddy, daddy over and over again to the point you lost yourself in the thought of him as he trailed kisses down your body.

He pressed some more kisses on your belly while he positioned himself in between your legs. You had grabbed a pillow and rested it under your head for support. “That’s it Princess.” He praised you while your hands reached to your tummy, pulling on it.

At the same time, he pushed your legs open and back. He gave your right thigh a bite, similar to the one he first left on your neck. Kisses, always more kisses. He made his way closer and closer to your pussy that he exposed for his own viewing pleasure. His palms laid on your inner thighs and he pulled them out of the way, used his thumb to spread your pussy open. His eyes were filled with lust and, finally, after swiping his lips with his tongue, he leaned closer to lick a gentle swipe from your core.

You threw your head back on the pillow and exhaled audibly.

His tongue grazed over your clit, quickly replaced by his nose that bumped against it as his tongue explored your folds. “Sweet girl.” He whispered against you, just loud enough to let the words resonate in your mind.

Your mind, it emptied itself more and more while he licked, sucked and lapped at your pussy. He did not even mind when you had to get a better grip on your belly, hands slippery from the sweat brought out by the arousal and the warmth growing inside of you.

He closed his eyes and kept going, eating you out with such a passion that it made your toes curl.

“You’re not gonna cum right now. I’m just getting started.” He pouted while he spoke, his eyebrows curling into a fake sad, but mostly mischievous expression.

You groaned, frustrated that he stopped giving your clit the attention it deserved.

“You’re Daddy’s good girl. Isn’t that right?” His tongue pressed on your clit, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah!” You cried out, eyes shut from the desire. You tried to control the tears that started to form, not to give in for a few minutes of him eating you out.

His nails left crescent shapes in the skin of your thighs, anchoring your legs in this position that was making your hips burn with pain from the stretching. “Mhm.” He sounded displeased.” Try again.”

You opened your eyes, invisible daggers thrown in his direction. “I’m Daddy’s girl.” Surrender. You could not do anything but surrender when his tongue plunged into your entrance. You were so set on cumming that you did not even realize, all this time, that Jake’s hips had been working as hard as his mouth, humping the mattress like he did to your thigh.

He fucked his tongue inside your hole, his nose hitting your clit repeatedly and it was just enough to draw louder moans out of you, but still not sufficient to take you over the edge. His own noises were muffled by your folds when he rested there, tongue all the way inside of you. He shook his head from left to right, ever so slightly.

You tried to close your legs around his head, the pleasure growing so strong and so fast.

Jake was having none of it. He switched from pulling your thighs out of the way to pressing down on your legs, harshly. He sucked on your clit until he noticed you arching your back, your body starting to prepare for your orgasm.

Your orgasm that did not come. “Fuck!” You groaned. You let go of a breath you did not know you were holding and sobbed. You sobbed, and he laughed.

Jake laughed softly when he soothed the skin that rubbed against his short beard with small kisses. “You can’t blame me, baby.” He started to speak, voice raspy. He raised himself on his elbows and you let go of your tummy to hold on your legs.

Your body was on fire and it almost distracted you from when his middle finger, the one you sucked earlier, bottomed out inside of your pussy. “Please, Daddy, please!” Tears fell down your cheeks.“Need you to fuck me, please!”

“I love it when you get needy on me” He lowered his head against and licked your clit while his finger curled inside of you, trying to reach even deeper.

Through your lashes, you caught sight of him. His back was covered in a layer of sweat, his face was reddened from the intensity with which he ate you out, his whole arm was flexing while he fingered you hard and fast until he let you cum.

Finally. You felt it rise from the tip of your toes all the way up your legs, which were shaking in the air. Your hands fell down from them and you could not not even bring yourself to do something with them, grip Jake’s messy hair, or the just as messy bed sheets, or even your tits. The pleasure reached your stomach and pulled and pulled and pulled, your back arching and relaxing while Jake was giving you no time to breathe or register just how good it felt. And it reached your mind, clearing it of anything except the feeling of bliss that spread over you.

Jake pulled his face away from you and slowed down on the thrusting of his fingers until your clenched walls relaxed around him, allowing him to slide out of you. He sucked his finger clean while you tried to catch your breath. “Happy,” He spoke, kissing the spot where your hands were on your belly. “Fucking,” he reached up to the valley between your breasts. “Birthday.” He finished with a deep kiss so you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

You mouthed a very faint thank you and let out a surprised gasp when you felt something press against your sensitive core.

He started to hump you, still covered under his clothes that you lost no time soaking with the mess of juices and spit that he left between your legs.

You tried to tell him you were too sensitive, but words fail to leave your mind. Instead, you held him close and let him reach his own high. Your mouth was open, sometimes you would capture his bottom lip in between his but you left him as much freedom as he needed to let out all the moans. “Daddy?”

His eyes opened to watch you, thinking he would find confusion on your face as to why he preferred to hump you rather than fuck you out of your mind  — to be fair, he already did. Instead, he found pupils blown out with lust and love. “You did so fucking good for me.”

“Yeah?” He nodded and you noticed how his body started to twitch, losing the rhythm he used to fuck his hips against you.

He sat back on his knees just long enough to pull down his pants and finally free his rock hard cock from its confines. “Shit!” He exclaimed, jerking himself off with a hand that cupped his balls and rested at the base of his cock and a tight fist around the tip. His jaw clenched when drops of cum started to fall down on your skin and he grunted loud, he could feel it deep in his chest.

You watched him cum over your lower stomach, but most of it covered your puffy folds. His tip leaked a few more drops of cum before Jake went to lay down next to you.

He failed to catch his breath for a while, just like you did too. You helped him with thank yous, I love yous, and a soothing hand rubbing over his abdomen.

“Happy birthday to me.” You chuckled, exhaustion manifesting itself with heavy eyelids and laziness taking over your body.

“How about we take a quick bath to clean up?” You mumbled something that sounded like an excuse to lay there even longer — not only did you lay in bed through the afternoon, but you wanted to do it through the entire day. “We need it, Princess.” Jake squeezed your hand and brought it to mouth for a kiss with his swollen lips.

“Only if we go back to bed as soon as we’re done.” You negotiated, eyes squinting as you anticipated his response.

“Bath, dinner, then bed.” He raised an eyebrow, a hint of playfulness lit up his eyes despite the darkness of the evening swallowing all of the daylight that previously shined through the room. “I have a counter offer.”

“I’m all ears, sir.” You rolled to your side and he shifted too, giving you the place you need to reach for his cheek and plant a kiss.

The nickname did not go unnoticed, but he, too, was too tired to bring it up or think of any witty come back. “You can take a quick nap in my arms while we’re in the bed and after we eat, we cuddle for a movie.” He watched attentively the grin that appeared on your face, from one ear to the other.

“We reached a deal.” Another kiss, this time on his temple where his small vein was still bulging, sealed the business proposal. “Do I have to sign a contract this time?”

He smiled, realizing how he forgot about the papers of your peculiar agreement. “No need for one. I trust my partner.”

“So you trust me to make the water of the bath extra hot?”

His laughter made his chest rise up and down. “Yeah, that too.” He sat up and helped you, offering a strong, but tired, arm to pull you up. “Happy birthday again, my beautiful Princess.”

[littlemisspascal]

The Infinity Cube Part 20

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Word Count: 3400+

Series Summary:  When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: language, Devil!Dio deserves a warning for being Devil!Dio, making out, inspiration from Star Wars Rebels + JLU, references to previous chapters, fluff + angst, 

Author Note: One year later and here we are, the final chapter. I’ve had this ending in mind from the very beginning and I can’t believe it’s finally over 😭💜 I want to thank every single reader of this series, seriously y’all’s support has meant the absolute world to me and gave me the motivation to keep writing this crazy roller coaster. Fingers crossed y’all enjoy it and also be sure to keep an eye out for an epilogue coming soon 👀

Special shoutout to @beecastle​ for talking me out of losing my sanity several times and helping me cross the finish line 💗

PART 1 / PART 19

Gif by: @nicolethered

You find yourself looking up at a large, solid white house draped in ivy vines with circular windows and, if you squint enough against the blinding afternoon sunlight, a rooster weathervane on top of the roof. It’s a nice place, charming in its own unique way, but whose it belongs to and why you’re standing in front of it are two questions you lack the answers to. 

Despite being in an unknown location, you’re not afraid. There’s no hint of tension in your muscles or anxious thoughts spinning circles in your head. Instead there’s only a numbing sort of calmness, a sense of certainty telling you you’re in the right spot. 

You’re thinking about walking up the front porch steps and knocking on the door, but then, as if reading your mind, it swings open and an impatient Dio appears in the doorway, looking down his nose at you.

“Finally,” he says, enunciating every syllable with a punch of passive-aggressiveness. “Took you long enough. I’m starting to get gray hairs, Specs.”

Eyebrows lifting, you do a double-take of your surroundings, then look back at Dio, expression still bitchy.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, more confused than fearful. “Where are we?”

“Oh, right, duh, where are my manners?” Dio makes a show of smacking himself in the forehead. “Welcome to my own little corner of hell. Yes, yes, I know it’s beautiful so stop staring and get your ass inside.”

After huffing out an incredulous laugh, you obey, finding the inside of the house to be just as pretty and solid white as the outside. White walls, white floor with a white rug, white furniture and accessories all elegantly arranged. You stand in the living room, thinking it looks as if Dio copied a page out of Better Homes & Gardens, and the thought is so absurd it has you rubbing at your nose to conceal a smile.

“I asked if he robbed Pottery Barn,” a voice chimes in from behind.

You whirl around, finding a woman sitting in a chair nestled in the corner. One look at her face has your heart freezing solid in your chest. It’s quite possible your brain has stopped functioning too, because there’s no way it can be her, that she can be here with you in the same space.

“Stranger things have happened.”

Your eyes widen. “Can you…?”

“No, I can’t read your thoughts,” she says, mouth curling up with a smile. “Our face, however, is an open book. We’d be absolutely shit at poker.”

It’s so easy, so casual, the way she confirms who she is. And you would have laughed at her remark if your brain wasn’t too busy exploding.

You’d seen a photo of the thief and his dear, saw she wore the same face as your own. Still, being here together, looking at her as a real, living and breathing person, a carbon copy of yourself, is so fucking bizarre.

Dearheart, in contrast, seems calm and composed, expression almost serene. It occurs to you then with a bright flash of clarity, she’s finally free. After countless cycles of temptation and heartache and endless waiting, she’s no longer a prisoner of the cube.

Your eyes well up with tears before you can stop them, chest constricting with emotion, and a sob escapes your throat. It catches up to you all at once—you solved the Infinity Cube, the long journey has finally finished, you can go home. It’s all finally over.

Dearheart stands up and throws her arms around you, uncaring of how you immediately bury your face in her shoulder, sobs wracking your body with every gasp of breath. Your hands grab fistfuls of her shirt, finding comfort in her physicality, in her quiet shushings and murmurings.

“You did it,” she tells you over and over again, squeezing you tighter, and there are tears in her voice now too. “You saved us.”

You don’t know how long the two of you stand there, hugging and crying, but Dio’s patience only lasts so long before he’s pointedly clearing his throat.

“As much as I love witnessing touching moments,” Dio starts, completely unaffected by the twin glares directed his way, “we three have much to discuss.”

Although you hate to admit it, you know Dio’s right. You scrub at your burning eyes and wipe away the residual tears clinging to your cheeks. It’s actually more than a little embarrassing, being the one being comforted instead of offering it to Dearheart. Swallowing harshly against the thick lump in your throat, you manage to croak out, “Start talking, Dio. Why are we here exactly?”

Dio drops down onto the couch, arms casually stretched wide over the fluffy white pillows. “The cube brought you both here, back to where it all began.” He smiles then, a wide thing with too many teeth. “I never said congratulations to you Specs, did I? Welcome to the finish line, you clever girl.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” you reply, thinking of Javi’s help and of Dearheart’s hints along the way. You turn to look at her, finding her already staring back. “That was you, right? Marie Shaid and the book?”

“Not entirely. With my magic, I can’t create matter out of thin air, only alter how people perceive it. The book was real, in that universe, at least. All I did was make you see it a little differently,” Dearheart says. Her gaze falls to her hands then, turning them over palms up and wiggling her fingers. You swear you glimpse little sparkles of light leaping between the digits, almost like firecrackers. “That trick nearly drained me of my magic, but I had to get your attention somehow.”

You stay quiet, staring at her hands still faintly glowing. It makes sense she has magic—after all, the thief had also possessed it and Dearheart is from the same universe. Still, actually witnessing it up close is enough to send your head spinning. Just when you thought there wasn’t much more the multiverse could surprise you with, it throws you Dio, his picturesque white house, and your variant with magical powers all at once.

“Be careful, would you? I’m still trying to get rid of the magic stains from your partner’s failed attempt to steal from me,” Dio gripes, but there’s mischief glittering in his dark eyes, indicating he knows exactly which buttons he’s pushing. “We don’t want a repeat of past mistakes now, do we?”

Dearheart’s eyes narrow, hands curling into fists, and your own tongue burns as if it can feel the scathing retort she’s about to unleash. You quickly intervene before any furniture or limbs end up broken. “Dio, we made a deal, remember? I solve the cube and you make sure everything goes back to the way it was.”

Dio smirks, and it’s the same little mean curl of his mouth you’d previously thought made him look like a cat who caught a canary. It bothers you now to see it just as much as it did then. “Of course I remember.”

A beat of silence follows. The kind of quiet before a bomb drops, before everything irreparably changes and what was familiar is gone. Lost forever.

Your alternate self must feel it too, this almost tangible fizzle in the air, because she steps closer, arms brushing. A touch that says: you’re not alone. Not anymore.

The Devil sits up, bracing his forearms on his knees while pinning you with his stare. “I have a question for you, Specs. And it might just be the hardest one you’ll ever have to answer in your whole life, but once you do, I’ll send you home. Both of you,” he corrects before you can argue.

“I don’t like this,” Dearheart mutters, and you tilt your head in wordless agreement. Unfortunately, as guests in Dio’s home, you don’t have much of a choice.

Exhaling a quiet breath, you ask Dio, “What’s the question?”

He studies you for a long moment, like he can see straight through to your fractured heart and tender soul, expression uncharacteristically blank. The seconds of quietness stretch on, each one adding to the weight pressing down on your lungs.

And then, “Do you wish to forget?”

Your heartbeat stutters. “Wh-what?”

“Not many can say they successfully fulfilled a deal with the Devil. You’ve…impressed me, Specs,” Dio says, and a beam of sunlight bounces off his silver star earring, as blinding as it is surprisingly beautiful. “So, I’m giving you a choice. Carry the memories of all your precious Brown Eyes back home with you, or leave them behind.” 

You’re uncomfortably aware of the two pairs of eyes watching you, waiting for your response. You turn the question over in your head for a second, thinking about how you feel, about your conversation with Javi. He’s already forgotten about you. Everyone you’ve ever met across the multiverse has had their lives reset, none the wiser you ever crossed paths at all. 

Is it really so bad to want that same blissful ignorance they have?

You make the mistake of glancing at Dearheart. One look at your face, and she already knows what you’re going to choose. One look at hers, and you know she’s okay with it. 

Somehow, that makes the small pang of guilt hurt all the worse.

“I’m sorry, I just, it’s…” You make a face at your tongue’s clumsiness, fumbling for a way to explain everything, how it feels like the memories will continue to fester inside of you until there’s nothing left of who you are. There’s just too many of them. You’ve lived too many lives.

She smiles, and it’s soft and devoid of judgment. You blink harshly against the burn of returning tears. “You don’t need to apologize or explain. I already know.”

“But—”

“You’ve done more than enough for me, Specs,” she cuts you off, gentle yet firm, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You deserve a peaceful life with the one you love. The life the multiverse intended for you.”

“You deserve that too,” you blurt out, impulsive yet sincere. 

Dearheart blinks with surprise, visibly taken aback for a second, before letting out a quiet laugh. “It’s hard to imagine it. A pair of thieves settling down together, living a quiet life. Then again,” she gives you a pointed look, one eyebrow arching up, “strangers things have happened, yeah?”

 It startles a laugh out of you. “Yeah,” you nod, smiling wide. “Yeah, they really have.”

“And I’ll hold onto them. Every single one,” she says, lifting her hand from your shoulder to tap her temple. “Maybe write a book or something.”

“Well, well, well, wouldja look at that,” Dio remarks, pitching his voice higher to reclaim the spotlight once more. He stands up, moving closer to stand in front of you both. “Everybody gets what they want and goes home happy. I thought endings like that only happened in fairy tales.”

“What are you going to do with the cube, exactly?” you ask, carefully watching his face.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little mind about it,” he answers flippantly, but the cracking of his knuckles does little to mollify you. “It won’t be a problem for you or your Brown Eyes anymore. That’s what you’re really asking, right?”

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

“You do you, clever girl.” He shrugs, looking like he could honestly care less about your poor opinion of him. “Now, let’s get this all wrapped up already. I’m a busy guy. I’ve got other souls to play with. Punishments to inflict. Deals to arrange.”

The tempo of your heartbeat accelerates, the realization that this is it buzzing through your nerves. “What–” your voice cracks under the weight of emotions suddenly springing to life inside of you. “What do I do?”

Dio chuckles, a genuine-sounding one, like you’ve just said something funny. Then, without sparing a second to explain himself, he licks a long, wet strip up the center of his palm, a strange symbol lighting up in the center of it, before he begins chanting in a language you’ve never heard of before, words tumbling out of his mouth rapid-fire in a low, steady stream.

Your whole body goes stiff, limbs held in place by invisible strings. You open your mouth to yell or curse at him, only to find you’ve lost your voice, just a weak gasp of air escaping your lips. 

“Don’t fight it,” Dearheart tells you, voice breaking through the thunderous sound of blood pounding in your eardrums. “Just breathe.”

It feels like you’re being torn apart from the inside out, all of your atoms burning one by one. A scream presses against the backs of your teeth, the taste of blood sharp on your tongue. You might be crying; you can’t really tell anymore.

Dio continues his chant without any sign of stopping.

“Breathe,” Dearheart says again, sounding so close it’s as though she’s inside your head, wrapped around you, holding your hand. “It will all be over soon.”

Her words are a balm against the worst of the pain, and something inside of you relaxes upon hearing them. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to follow her command and breathe. In and out, in and out, even as numbness starts to creep up your legs. Along your spine and abdomen. Inch by deadening inch.

Your senses are next to go. Dio’s voice fades away seconds before the floor disappears. And you’re left with the sensation that you’re floating in a sea of nothingness. A second passes, then another, and another, and then—

Then you’re falling.

~~

The room is full of open doors.

That’s the first thing you realize upon opening your eyes and regaining your bearings. Every direction you turn your head there’s dozens of doorways leading to unknown locations. The air is still, neither hot nor cold, and the entire space is as silent as a tomb. It’s…unsettling, to say the least.

A tugging sensation prompts you to start walking, even though you have no idea what or where your final destination is. There’s no sky here, no light source, but somehow you’re able to see the path in front of you clearly, each step sure-footed. 

Every doorway you look through when you pass them reveals glimpses of the same woman and man in different settings. There’s a sense of vague familiarity, a name sitting on your tongue you can’t quite recall. Sometimes they look happy, obviously in love, other times they’re fighting, spitting curses and crying tears. Their physical characteristics change, too, hairstyles and ages and the appearances of scars. For all the variations though, there is one single constant.

They’re always together.

In one doorway, they’re sitting on a beach, the woman leaning back against the man’s chest while she holds up seashells from a small collection pile for him to see. Whatever the man says about one of them makes her laugh, tossing her head back against his shoulder, and he hides his crooked smile by burying his face in her hair.

The next shows them with a little baby girl crawling across a carpet floor. She’s got a head full of curls and a pair of beautiful, sparkling eyes matching her parents’. The man is videotaping her, the widest of smiles on his face, while the woman watches from the sofa with an expression you can only think of describing as pure contentment. 

Another reveals them in an office arguing over a gemstone clutched in the man’s hands. The woman makes several attempts at grabbing it only for him to keep evading her reach, holding the item close to his chest as though it were his most precious treasure. You don’t know what’s going on, why the gem is the source of their strife, but you have the sinking suspicion their situation is about to go from bad to worse.

There’s a split-second you actually think about pausing—to do what, you’re not exactly sure. Yell at them? Reach through the door and take the stone for yourself? But then that internal tugging starts up again, more insistent this time, urging you to keep walking.

So you do.

The doors keep emerging from the blackness on either side of you, far more than you can count, and vanish just as soon as you pass them. This is without question the most elaborate dream you’ve ever had, but curiosity overrules your desire to wake up. If there is an ending to this, you want to see it through.

Eventually, after what seems like miles even though your feet don’t ache at all, you reach a fork in the road, discovering two doors which look different from the rest. On the left, light pours out of the open doorway, so much you can’t even tell what the scene is inside. On the right, a door which has been shut, offering no clues as to what’s on the other side of it.

Wary of the closed door, you approach the left one first, squinting against the brightness until you can make out the shapes of furniture and people. A green leather sofa. A massive fireplace. The man and woman are wrapped in a passionate embrace, kissing each other as if they’re starving for it, hands roaming over each other’s bodies. 

You must make a sound, a gasp or something, because the woman’s eyes lock onto yours as she exposes her neck for the man to continue lavishing with his lips. 

And then, as if it isn’t awkward enough already, she wiggles her fingers at you. At first you think she’s waving, or perhaps shooing you away, but then the door abruptly slams shut like it’s got a mind of its own, causing you to leap backwards with a yelp. 

“Curiouser and curiouser,” you murmur, blinking at the now-closed door.

The only option left, whether you like it or not, is the other door. Nervousness twists a knot in your stomach, growing a little bit bigger with every approaching step. There’s nothing outright scary about the door—it’s literally just a door. Rectangular piece of wood with a brass knob. But the unknowing of what awaits you on the other side has your hand hesitating. After all you saw on your walk here, the possibilities are endless.

Okay, okay, okay. Stop overthinking things. You can do this. It’s no big deal. Just turn the knob. Just. Turn. The—

You tilt your head, a faint sound tickling at your eardrums. Your brow furrows, recognizing it to be music playing, and then your eyebrows climb up your forehead in disbelief when the lyrics click within your brain. That’s a One Direction song. And it’s coming from behind the door.

As if reacting to the beats of the song, the tugging in your chest starts to synchronize with it. Come on inside, it seems to say. Don’t be afraid.

You take a deep breath, pushing down your fears.

And you open the door.

~~

You may not look it—bobbing your head along to the One Direction song blaring from your computer, shamelessly mouthing the lyrics—but you take your job quite seriously. You’ve been an archivist for the FBI’s art crime division for a little over a year now, responsible for cataloging, organizing, and examining recovered museum artifacts with gloved hands and a pair of specially designed spectacles hanging from a chain around your neck.

It’s tedious work, no doubt about it, but if not for this job you never would have met your boyfriend, Marcus, aka the man of your dreams. And for that mere fact alone, you wouldn’t trade this life for any other.

“Hey, Specs, you ready to head home?”

You look up from your computer, locking eyes with Marcus standing in the doorway. He’s dressed in his usual dark blue suit, but after a long day’s work his dark hair has been ruffled by restless fingers, striped tie hanging undone around his neck, and overall looking eager to cuddle on the couch in your apartment and watch a Netflix documentary.

There’s something about him that looks especially beautiful today, you can’t quite put your finger on it. You’d seen him earlier at lunch, but the strange ache in your chest, heart overwhelmed by a sudden burst of adoration, makes it seem like it’s been years or something. God, he’s turning you into such a hopeless romantic it’s ridiculous.

Turning off your computer, you go to him, greeting him with a kiss on the lips, soft and tender, a little teasing nip at the end promising more to come later. You nuzzle your nose against his before pulling away to grab hold of his hand, loving the way his fingers immediately intertwine with yours. He really is perfect.

And he’s all yours.

“Yeah, Brown Eyes,” you say, smiling and pulling him along. “Let’s go home.”

[fivelakesinwriting]

hii!! id love it if youd make a rafe x reader enemies to lovers fic where the reader gets a nipple piercing and rafe sees the piercing thru their thin/tight top? reader tries to tease him but rafe tries to ignore it and shit gets FREAKKYYYY lollol

Author's Notes: Y'all are little freaks...and I love that about you. I named the girl in particular for this story, sometimes it's just easier! Please let me know what you think if you have a moment. If this was your request, I hope you love it! xoxo

Warnings: Talk of piercings (might make people uneasy), Swearing, Drinking, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos, Smut *(biting, rough sex, mentions of choking , unprotected sex - please be safe out there, your choice how! ) All Characters are 18+

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

To say that Rafe loathed his sister Sarah's friend - Evie - would be an understatement. He didn't know why he disliked the girl so much, she had never really done anything to him to make him dislike her so much. There was just something about her that rubbed him the wrong way.

Maybe it was the way she didn't move out of the way for him when they crossed paths in the hallway at Tannyhill, the way she called him by his full name - Rafe Cameron - or perhaps, because she looked like the kind of girl that wouldn't give him the time of day. And that bothered the shit out of him.

It was a lazy Summer afternoon and Rafe planned on doing nothing with his day. Topper and Kelce weren't available for golf, and Barry was out. So Rafe cut his losses and decided he would hang out at home by the pool and drink beers all day.

As he descended the stairs towards the kitchen to begin his afternoon he heard his sister's laugh and the distinct sound of Evie's laugh just after. Rafe exhaled heavily as he rolled his eyes, succumbing to the notion that his relaxing afternoon would have the background noise of a witch's cackle.

"Ladies." Rafe grumbled as he quickly made his way through the kitchen, a beeline towards the fridge to grab a beer.

"Rafe Cameron, nice to see you." Evie smiled over the top of her phone as she showed Sarah a photo.

"Evie, see they rescheduled your burning at the stake." Rafe glared as he popped the top of his beer, sipped, then made his way out the patio doors towards the pool.

"Rafe!" Sarah scolded as she picked out a piece of fruit from the bowl on the counter in front of her, and threw it at the door as he closed it behind him.

Just as Rafe started to get settled on the lounge chair by the pool, the sun hot on his chest and face, the patio door opened and the girls came outside still giggling.

"Do you need to be here? Can't you take the car and like, leave?" Rafe sighed as he turned his hat back around to shield his eyes from the sun to properly glare at his sister.

"Last I checked this wasn't your house, Rafe. So, we're staying. Deal with it, or go back inside." Sarah replied with a roll of her eyes as she stepped into the pool.

Rafe let out a long, dramatic sigh as he pulled his hat down over his eyes but kept it high enough that he was able to see the pool just under the brim. He crossed his arms over his chest and listened intently to the conversation the girls were having.

"So, you and Anthony are done?" Sarah asked as she waded further into the water.

"So done. Couldn't be more done." Evie stated firmly, and Rafe heard the sound of clothing drop to the deck of the pool.

"That's what you said the last time, and then I had to come pick you up from that party and your knees were all scratched up -" Sarah stated a smirk evident in her voice.

Rafe's ears perked up at the turn the conversation was taking. He knew his sister had a tendency to pick friends that were less than good influences on her. But this? Oh, he would stay and listen to this.

"And that's why I got these done. It's my gift to myself for kicking that loser to curb. And my constant reminder every time I see it." Evie replied with a laugh.

Rafe was beyond curious as to the gift she had given herself. His mind raced as he thought of all the possibilities. And he had not even known she was with someone until that moment. Rafe pulled his hat back up over his eyes, squinting against the sunlight, then stood up from the lounge chair as not to seem like he had been eavesdropping.

But he was.

"Oh, Rafe Cameron! Wait up." Evie called after him as he headed back into the house to grab another beer.

Rafe gave the door a push to keep it open for her as he continued his walk inside the house again, the air conditioning cool on his skin. He opened the fridge doors once more, but felt uncomfortable, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he felt a pair of eyes on him.

"Stop staring at me." He ordered as he grabbed another beer and closed the door of the refrigerator harshly.

"Just waiting for you to move, Rafe Cameron." Evie smiled while she leaned against the island counter, her sunglasses pushed up on the top of her head as her eyes scanned his body.

"Can just ask." Rafe grumbled as he shifted out of the way, flicking the tab of his beer can. He felt uncomfortable under her gaze but also confident, and powerful. He didn't know which way to go.

Witch.

"Thank you." She nodded as she made her way passed him to open the doors of the fridge again and peered inside.

Rafe looked over at her through the corner of his eye as best he could, trying to figure out what she had been talking to Sarah about. What was the gift? He cursed his inquiring mind with a bite of his top lip and quickly turned on his heel to leave again.

"Oh, wait. Rafe? Can you help me? I can't reach the glasses up there." Evie asked with a strain in her voice.

Rafe turned around again with a sigh, placing his beer down on the counter then walked back over to the short girl trying to reach a glass in the high up cabinets. He easily reached above her head, grabbed a glass and placed it in front of her.

"There you go." Rafe mumbled as his fingertips trailed over the countertop as he backed up a little to give her some space.

"Thanks, Rafe Cameron." Evie nodded as she turned around to face him, leaning against the counter.

It was then as she was leaned up against the counter, arms holding her body up as Rafe noticed what Evie had been telling Sarah about all along. It had been under his nose, and under her tiny t-shirt the whole time.

"Who's Anthony?" Rafe asked with a clear of his throat he hoped wasn't too obvious before he pointed to her nipples, pierced, very visible through her white t-shirt.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Evie grinned as she got close to him, close enough that he could smell the chlorine from the pool on her and whatever perfume she used. She brushed by him, her nipples grazing his bare arm as she exited the kitchen and Rafe shivered.

Witch. Bitch....fuck, she's hot.

Rafe growled low in his chest as he turned around, grabbed his beer and took a big drink. He pushed the door open to the pool area again and stalked out to see Evie sitting on the pool deck, her feet in the water as Sarah floated on an obnoxious flotation device shaped like a swan.

"You didn't bring a suit, Evie?" Rafe muttered as he took another generous sip of his beer and placed it on the table beside his lounge chair.

"This is my suit." She replied as she kicked a leg out of the water.

"A white t-shirt and bikini bottoms?" Rafe inquired, attempting to keep his tone even.

She didn't reply, only tossed him a smile as she placed her leg back in the water while she leaned back on her hands. She extended her neck back, letting the sun hit her face as she let out a content sigh.

Rafe didn't like to be teased.

"Sarah, go pick up Wheezie." Rafe ordered as he finished off his beer and adjusted his hat on his head, turning the brim backwards.

"Why do I have to do it? You're the one with no friends and nothing to do." Sarah replied with a glare over the the neck of the swan.

"I'll get us all dinner if you go and pick her up. I don't like that Samuel kid she hangs out with." Rafe grumbled as he leaned back in the chair.

"Do you like anyone?" Sarah sighed as she pulled herself over to the edge of the pool and climbed out.

Sarah asked Evie if she wanted to come along, but Evie declined. She said she would stay here, dry off and make sure that Rafe didn't fuck up the dinner choice for them all.

"You want a beer, Evie?" Rafe asked once Sarah had left and it was just the two of them and the tension he wasn't sure how to label.

The two of them stood in the kitchen, looking through take out menus and avoided conversation. Rafe's eyes flickered over the top of the menu he was pretending to read and zeroed in on her nipples, still visible through her shirt and he was reeling.

"You should change your shirt before Wheezie gets back." Rafe mumbled as he quickly looked back at the menu in his hands so she didn't catch him staring.

"For whose benefit? Hers or yours, Rafe Cameron?" Evie smirked as she tossed the menu she was holding onto the counter, then leaned on her forearms and looked up at him.

"Listen. Maybe this Anthony character liked to be teased and have you shove your tits in his face, but I don't. So quit it." Rafe growled as he dropped his own menu to the floor and reached over the counter to take hold of her face, making her look right into his eyes.

"You don't like my tits?" She questioned, hands pressed to the counter as she started to climb onto it to get closer to him. The other shoe starting to drop.

"I love them." Rafe practically whined as Evie climbed onto the counter and crawled over to him. He tugged off her still wet t-shirt, dropping it to the floor before he reached for her breasts.

"Gentle!" She hissed with a yank of his hair as he tugged at either of the steel bars that pierced her nipples.

"Hurts?" Rafe breathed out as his nose brushed over hers, his palms kneading her breasts a little more gently as he let her pull on his hair.

"Not too much. You just look like you can get rough." She muttered as her other hand reached for his bicep and squeezed.

"Can be, yeah. Won't be this time if you don't want that." Rafe exhaled while his lips got closer to hers. She still smelled like chlorine, and her perfume was some sort of flower he couldn't name. He loved it.

Evie twisted her fingers into the hair at the back of his head and pulled his lips to hers, the other shoe finally dropping. Rafe groaned against her mouth as he released his hold on her chest in favour of wrapping his arms around her instead, pulling her close against him.

"Don't bite! Your sister will notice the marks." Evie gasped when Rafe removed his lips from his and kissed down to her collarbone, sinking his teeth into her skin still warm from the sun.

"Give you one of my shirts. Have to cover these anyways." Rafe mumbled into her clavicle as he reached up to palm at her breasts again.

"Because Sarah and Wheezie coming home to me in your clothes isn't more suspicious, Rafe." She scolded as she reached for his hair to tug his face up, making him look at her.

"Let me worry about them." Rafe growled as he grabbed her hips to lift her off the counter then placed her on the cool tiled floor in front of him. He spun her around and pulled her bikini bottoms down her legs, his breath in his throat at the naked woman in front of him.

"Here?!" She squealed as she tossed a frantic look over her shoulder at him, eyes wide as she waited for his next move. Rafe ran his hands from her shoulders down her back to her hips, simply admiring her form.

"Too much for you?" Rafe grinned, an eyebrow raised to challenge her.

"So, teasing is okay as long as you're the tease?" Evie shivered as her head dropped down, forehead pressed to the countertop as Rafe reached around to roll her nipples between his fingers again.

"Yes." Rafe stated simply, as if this were a fact she should have known upon walking into Tannyhill. He bent down to press a kiss to the back of her neck, a groan in the back of his throat as she pushed back into him.

"C'mon, Rafe." Evie whined as her right hand reached back to pull at his hair as he bit down on the creased of her neck while he untied his swim shorts, letting them fall to his feet.

"You're so whiny. So bratty. I fucking hate it." Rafe growled into her neck as he lined himself up with her entrance, choking out a breath at how wet she felt against him.

"Are you sure?" She exhaled and Rafe could hear the smile on her face.

Fucking witch. Beautiful, pierced, whiny, wet and warm fucking witch.

"If you wanna keep this gentle I suggest you keep your mouth shut, sweetheart." Rafe breathed in her ear as he pressed his tip inside of her, and he swore his heart stopped for a second as she clenched around him.

Her back arched and she let out a pathetic little whine that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he sunk inside of her completely. She reached a hand back to grab his wrist, her nails deep in his skin as he settled inside of her to let her adjust to his size.

"Damn." Rafe groaned as he pulled his hips back, fingertips pressed into the skin of her hips to keep her steady as he thrust back in. He sunk his teeth into her neck again, loving the way she bounced back into him when he did.

"More, Rafe. Please." Evie begged breathlessly, her neck extended to the side to let him mark her up. Rafe pulled his calloused fingers over her hips and up to her breasts again, kneading them before he rolled her nipples between his fingers.

"Hate how good you feel. Goddammit, Evie." Rafe growled while he wrapped one arm around her chest to pull her close while his other hand reached between her legs.

"Shit! Too much!" Evie gasped, her eyes wide when Rafe gave a firm thrust that sent her forward to the countertop once more. Her nails scratched over his forearm as he pressed his middle finger to her clit, finding it easily.

"Can't handle it?" Rafe grunted as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his middle finger circling her clit as he pounded into her from behind.

"Fuck you, Rafe Cameron." Evie sobbed out, back arched as she pulled one hand down his forearm and the other reached back to pull at his hair.

"You already are, and I can fucking feel you coming. You always this easy? Hmm?" Rafe panted as he unwrapped his arm from her chest to press his large palm to her collarbone, bringing her upright against him. He wanted to wrap his hand around that delicate little neck so badly, but he would wait. She had asked him to gentler with her, and he was trying so hard.

"You're a fuc - " She cursed but was cut off by Rafe reaching up and pushing two fingers in her mouth.

"Shut up, and just cum for me." Rafe growled as he pushed his middle and index finger further in her mouth, a shiver going down his spine as he felt her tongue swirl over the pads of his fingers.

As she came around him, whining around his fingers, Rafe was reconsidering his deep hatred for Evie. He chased his own release and kept an obnoxiously bruising grip on her hip with his free hand. Rafe groaned against the back of her neck, pressing his palm flat against her stomach to keep her flush against him as he finished inside of her.

"Shit." Rafe breathed out against the back of her neck, removing his fingers from her mouth. He gave her a soft kiss below her hairline as a thank you, and he hoped she didn't feel the way his breath shook on his exhale.

"I still don't like you very much." Evie whispered as she rested her head back on his shoulder, her eyes closed as she twisted his hair between her fingers.

"Don't like you all that much either." Rafe scoffed as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, although he had to admit in that moment just the two of them in the quiet house wrapped around one another - he didn't hate her all that much.

"I might let you do that again, though. If you give me a shirt, and order me food." Evie responded, her eyes opening just a little to watch as he kissed her forehead to the tip of her nose and then her chin.

"If you don't get burned at the stake first, be happy to do that again."

Hotties:

@anonymousobxfan @starkey-babie @barrysjumpsuit @sodasback

@fashion-fasting @vintageobx @babeyglo @rottenstyx @pogueslandia @soph0864 @whcclxr @beauvibaby @plutooryectors @rafecameronspolo

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[helloalycia]

lose you [one] // leigh shaw

summary: after Leigh ignores your existence for a few days, you decide to force her out of her room and spend the afternoon with you, but it ends up leading to something more

warning/s: mentions of grief and implied death

author's note: this was requested and I finally got around to watching Sorry For Your Loss (which is so good by the way! i'm so mad it got cancelled), so here is a little Leigh Shaw imagine! It's a three-parter so stay tuned :)

part two | part three | masterlist | wattpad

"Where is she?"

Jules, her sister, pointed up at the ceiling, referring to upstairs, as she finished chewing on a grape. "What did she do now?"

I refrained from rolling my eyes at the reminder that Leigh had been ignoring my calls and texts for the past few days.

"Nothing," I mumbled before leaving her in the kitchen to eat her fruit.

I'd been friends with Leigh long enough to invite myself into her house and let myself head upstairs. When I reached her room, I knocked on the door and tried to hide my impatience with a sigh.

"Jules, I'm not in the mood," her voice grumbled from the other side.

Ever since losing her husband a year ago, Leigh's personality had become more... erratic, if you will. Understanding her mood changes and temper tantrums was a skill in itself, but I was determined to stick by her if it meant she'd be okay. Like now, for example.

"It's not Jules," I called back. She didn't reply, so I said, "You better have clothes on, I'm coming in."

Without wasting a second, I opened the door and found Leigh laying on her bed, thankfully dressed, and looking up at the ceiling. Her room was slightly messy and the curtains were half open, like she'd been in the same position for the past few days. I wouldn't have put it past her.

When I entered, her eyes glanced my way before she continued to stare a hole into the ceiling. I breathed out, unsure what to say.

"Don't look at me like that," she said quietly.

"I wouldn't have to if you'd replied to any of my texts," I retorted, though my tone was anything but harsh.

"I've been busy," she mumbled.

My eyes raked the room once again. "Yeah, I can see that... it's two in the afternoon."

Suddenly, she sat up and narrowed her eyes at me. "Look, if I wanted a lecture, I'd have let Jules in here. If you've not got anything nice to say, you know where the door is."

Rolling my eyes, I ignored her flippant attitude and went to the set of chest drawers pushed against her wall. I rifled through them, earning complaints from behind me, before pulling out some clothes and throwing them at her.

"We're going out," I told her sternly, crossing my arms.

She removed the clothes from her face and gave me a disapproving look. "No, we're not."

"I'm not leaving unless you come with me, so..."

She could be a bitch when she wanted to be, but she knew I could be, too. Our stubbornness was our weakness, since neither of us could back down in a fight. Nowadays, it usually ended with me giving in because I pitied her, but not today. Today I was adamant on cheering her up.

"Fine," she said through a sigh of defeat. "Just get out already."

I smiled victoriously. "See you downstairs."

After waiting for Leigh to get ready and out of the pyjamas I was sure she'd lived in for three days straight, we got in my car and I began to drive.

"Where are we going?" she asked, glancing over at me with mild annoyance, like she'd rather be anywhere but here.

"Not sure yet," I admitted, ignoring the disbelief on her face.

"Then why did you make me come?!" she asked, her attention fully on me now.

I shrugged. "Thought you could use the break." Shoulders relaxing, I added, "I also thought we could spend some time together since we haven't in a while."

I didn't want to say it was because of the fact that she'd been avoiding me, or at least been making no effort to talk to me. I also didn't want to make her feel bad because of those facts, but she seemed to take it personally anyway, resorting to a good old-fashioned Leigh-specialty eye roll.

"I'm not sorry for grieving," she said knowingly, getting comfortable in her seat and looking out the window.

I gripped the steering wheel harder and tried not to let her words make a difference. She had a bad habit of twisting my words or making things seem worse than they were and I knew it was a coping mechanism of hers. She only tried to cope when things got too much, which only confirmed my reason for taking her out today.

"You don't have to be," was all I said, before focusing back on my driving.

—

Halfway through our drive to nowhere, I pulled the roof of the car down so we could feel the wind in our hair and the sun on our backs, since it was a nice day. I also put the radio on, hoping it would ease the tension on Leigh's end of the car.

Pop songs blared through the speakers, some that I knew and some that I didn't. Of course, the ones that I knew I immediately sang along to. Leigh definitely didn't like that, opting to roll her eyes and pretend I wasn't there. But eventually, I knew she wouldn't be able to resist and she began to hum along, making me smile.

On the road that led to nowhere, I noticed a public footpath leading into the forest and decided to take a pit stop, utilising the car park nearby. When Leigh noticed what I was doing, she straightened up and looked around with confusion.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyes falling to mine.

I tried not to laugh. "We, my friend, are going on a walk."

"You're kidding."

"I'm really not."

I felt her eyes on me as I parked up and turned the engine off. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I opened my car door and met her judgemental gaze, noticing she wasn’t making a move to leave.

"You coming?" I asked with a raised brow.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course," I said, not quite stepping out the car but hanging my feet out. "You can either come with me on a nice walk through the forest, or you can stay here and roast to death in the car because of the heat whilst you wait for me."

"Or I can steal your keys and drive home without you," she offered as a third option, smiling bitterly.

Grin on my lips, I hummed in agreement. "That's also an option, yes."

Letting out a sigh through gritted teeth, she wordlessly got out the car and I smiled with satisfaction, knowing she'd give in. Getting out the car, I stretched my arms before locking the doors and joining Leigh's side. She sulked like a child, but allowed me to lead her to the trail ahead.

It was a lovely day out, warm but with a slight breeze that cooled our skin as we walked. Sunlight peeked through the tall trees, reflecting off the greenery and filling me with a sense of awe as I appreciated mother nature up close and personal.

Glancing over at Leigh, I noticed how she fell into step with me but remained closed off. Hugging herself, she focused on the path ahead and stayed quiet, jaw clenched and lips pursed. Streams of light that shone through the trees shone onto her, spotlighting her and making her hair look golden, blinding but in the best way.

I'd never admit it aloud, but I always loved the way her green eyes sparkled in the light, and even when she turned to glare at me, I felt my heart rate speeding up at how beautiful she looked.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," she said dryly.

Not letting her mood get me down, I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo, making her smack my hand away. I laughed and, for her sake, pretended I didn't see the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"That's one for the books," I teased, putting my phone away.

"It's fine, I have plenty of you," she mumbled.

I smiled to myself but said nothing. We continued to walk through the woods, following the trail and myself remembering every turn we made so we could make it back the right way. There were a few other people out, but we passed them with a quick hello (from myself since Leigh was still sulking) and moved on.

Twenty minutes into our peaceful walk, I noticed a wooden footbridge up ahead, possibly built over a stream. Excited, I stopped and looked to Leigh who noticed I wasn't beside her and turned around to see what was up.

"Why d'you stop?" she asked, pulling her hair up into a ponytail impatiently.

I smiled eagerly. "I'll race you to the bridge."

"Y/N," she breathed out, raising her eyebrows. "We're not kids."

I walked forward slowly, smile fading into a frown. "Fine. Sorry for trying to liven things up."

She rolled her eyes and continued to walk beside me in silence. But my pace picked up, as did hers, and I exchanged glances with her, realising she was walking faster than usual. Before I knew it, we were breaking into a run, trying to reach the bridge before each other.

"Thought you didn't wanna race!" I said between heavy breaths.

"I don't!" she called back, her pace picking up as she managed to get ahead.

I sucked up a breath and pushed on, tailing her as she reached the bridge. When she got there, she began to cheer and point at me obnoxiously.

"Ha! I win!" she said with a grin, as I slowed down and bent over to catch my breath. "Sucks to be you."

Her laughter filled my ears as I straightened up, hands on my hips. She looked so happy, even if it was momentarily, and I watched her with adoration, not even caring that I'd lost. She was stunning when she was smiling and I could only hope she'd do it more as time went on.

"I let you win," I joked, waving my hand dismissively.

"Sure you did," she played along, leaning on the bridge's railing as she watched me with amusement.

"You literally exercise for a living," I told her with a shrug. "S'not fair."

"Whatever," she said with an eye roll, smile still dancing on her lips as she turned around to look over the bridge. A gasp escaped her lips as she said, "Wow."

I joined her side, holding the railing to see what had taken her breath away. Then I saw it. A stream ran beneath us and was framed by some beautiful flowers and tall, transcending trees whose branches curled outwards and were covered in green leaves. The sun's rays filtered down through the leaves and made the water look like it was sparkling, rippling with every rock it pushed past.

"Looks like something out of a children's book," I said with disbelief, smile of amazement on my lips.

Leigh hummed in agreement and I glanced at her, seeing a similar expression on her face. Glad she was in a better mood, I looked back to the picturesque view before us and leaned on the railing, merely appreciating the sight.

"This is nice," Leigh said quietly, after a moment.

I tilted my head to get a look at her. She was already looking my way, leaning on her arms and meeting my gaze.

"Thanks, I put it all together myself," I said playfully, making her nudge me with her elbow as I chuckled.

"I'm serious," she said, before looking ahead again. "It is."

Knowing that was her way of saying thank you without actually saying it, I nodded in agreement. "It is."

We admired the sight for a few more minutes before deciding to head back, taking our time as we followed the route I remembered. Leigh was a little less tense this time, seeming to relax into her surroundings a little more. She even had a smile on her face at times which was all I wanted.

"You hungry?" I asked when we reached the car park.

"I guess I could eat," she said with a shrug.

"Well, according to this sign," I said, pointing to a board beside the start of the footpath, "there's a café a little way down the road. Wanna go?"

She motioned for me to go first. "After you."

Green eyes shone bright with amusement as she looked to me with a suppressed smile. Losing my words, surprisingly startled by her gaze, I cleared my throat and took the lead, making her laugh.

I sometimes wondered if she knew the effect she had on me or if she just liked catching me off guard. Maybe it was both.

—

After having a late lunch, or early dinner depending on how you saw it, Leigh and I got back in my car and I began to drive us back to hers. It was quiet, just like our meal was and just like she'd been for most of the afternoon. I was fine with that, I guess, but I felt like she was holding something in.

Turning off the radio, I earned her attention.

"You should try screaming," I suggested casually.

"Excuse me?"

I felt her eyes boring into me with confusion as I got comfortable in my seat. Looking in the rear view mirror, I noticed there were no cars behind us or in front of us. The road was empty as I drove on the edge of one of the many beautiful cliff-sides in Los Angeles.

"Scream," I repeated to Leigh. "It'll feel good. Watch."

Wasting no time, I began to scream at the top of my lungs, being sure to stay focused on driving at the same time. My voice flew into the air as my car sped down the road, leaving me feeling liberated.

"Geez, a warning would be nice!" Leigh snapped, uncovering her ears when I was done.

I laughed. "I did say to scream." Giving her a sideways glance, I added, "Come on. Try it with me. On the count of three."

"This is stupid," she decided, leaning back into her seat and pushing her hair from her eyes as the wind blew it about.

"No, it's not," I said with certainty. "Three."

"Y/N."

"Two."

"Stop it."

"One."

"Y/N!"

I looked to her with a grin before screaming at the top of my lungs. When I didn't hear her join in, I stopped and pouted.

"You gonna leave me hanging?" I asked, looking between her and the road. "C'mon. Last chance."

"Y/N–"

"Three. Two. One."

This time, to my surprise, she joined in and we screamed together, our voices echoing into the hills around us. It was exciting, thrilling and freeing all at once. Once we were out of breath, we stopped and caught it back.

"Felt good, right?" I asked with a grin.

She began to laugh, quietly, slowly, then loudly and hysterically, making me join in. Though, when my laughter faded, I realised she was still laughing, and then I looked over to her and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. With concern, I reached over to comfort her, but stopped when I realised it was weird to do, even for a friend.

"Leigh, I'm sorry, I–"

"No, no, it's fine, I'm fine," she cut me off, wide smile still on her lips as she wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her jumper. "They're happy tears. Y/N. They're happy tears."

I furrowed my brows with confusion, eyes flickering between the road and Leigh. "Are you– are you sure? Because it's okay if–"

"I'm okay," she promised, resting a hand on my arm. "I am. And the screaming helped. You were right."

I almost made a joke about how I'm always right, but my concern for her, despite the smile she wore, was still present. Teary eyes watched me with reassurance and she squeezed my arm gently before getting comfortable in her seat.

"Okay, if you're sure," I said, still uncertain.

We continued driving when I noticed the sun setting and decided to stop the car off to the side of the road. The hills were the perfect place to watch the sunset since it had a perfect view of the city whilst leaving enough space to see the sky in all its glory.

"Now why are we stopping?" she asked, though her voice didn't carry the same venom it did earlier.

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked rhetorically, getting out the car and motioning to the view before us. "We're gonna watch the sun set!"

I thought she'd put up a fight or complain like she had with everything I'd been recommending today, but to my ease, she simply got out the car and joined me. The two of us leaned against the car door as we watched the sun dipping into the horizon, casting an orange-pink hue across the skyline and the few clouds in the sky. It always reminded me of a watercolour painting, like someone had dipped their paintbrush in water and dragged it across the sky.

"Thank you for today," Leigh said, pulling me from my admiration. "I actually had a really nice time. As in, the part I spent with you and not the part where I moped around in bed."

I gave her a half smile. "Anytime, Leigh."

She winced, shaking her head in disagreement. "No, I mean it, Y/N. For everything, not just this." She paused, and I tried to ignore the way the last of the sun's rays made her skin glow and eyes shine brighter than anything I'd ever seen. "You've been here for me, even a year later when other people would have left."

"That's what friends are for," I reminded her, and her eyes flickered to mine, holding a million questions that I couldn't decipher.

"I'm not the best company," she admitted.

"You're not that bad," I said dismissively.

"I wouldn't want to be around me," she continued.

"Who likes to be left alone with themselves anyway?" I said jokingly, making her sigh discontentedly. Smile fading, I lost my humour for the moment. "You're not as bad as you think. And even if you were, I'd still stick around."

She locked her jaw, looking down to her shoes silently. I crossed my arms and looked back to the sun, it lowering into the horizon further and further as each second passed.

"I didn't mean to force today onto you," I said hesitantly. "I just– you didn't reply to any of my messages and I was worried."

She scratched the back of her head awkwardly. "I haven't really checked my phone."

"I figured." Finger playing with my shirt mindlessly, I said, "I got a promotion at work. That's–" I cleared my throat. "That was why I called you the first time."

She looked up, eyes wide with apology. "Oh my God. Y/N, I'm so sorry! That's amazing! I should have–"

"It's okay," I reassured her with a small smile, dropping my arms to my side. "I just wanted to tell you because, well... I just wanted to tell you."

I wanted to tell her because that's what we did. We told each other everything. She was the first person that came to mind when anything good happened in my life. Of course, with everything going on, it was hard to tell her the good stuff when she was going through so much.

"I'm so proud of you," she said softly, and I looked her way when she grabbed my hand. "You worked really hard for this promotion and I knew you'd get it."

A smile crept onto my lips at her words. "Thank you, Leigh. You know that means a lot."

She nodded, mirroring my expression, before squeezing my hand gently. I wanted to look away after a few seconds, but she was still holding my gaze, eyes piercing mine as if conflicted. I suddenly became hyper-aware of her hand in mine, fingers gently tugging mine subconsciously, and the way her shoulder brushed against mine, the contact so natural I almost didn't realise it was there.

When I finally decided to break our staring contest, deciding I'd never know what was going on in her head, she took me by surprise and pulled me forward before kissing me. Her lips pressed to mine quickly, hand letting go and resting on the back of my neck dominantly.

It happened so quickly, my mind working overtime as it tried to decipher Leigh's soft lips against mine, the shiver that ran down my spine from her hand on my neck, the tenderness of her cheek as it came into contact with my nose. I didn't even get chance to react, to kiss her back like I wanted, as she pulled away in an instant.

Seemingly startled by her own actions, she let go of my neck and took a step back. I already missed the contact, my lips feeling cold as she pulled away. I, myself, was taken aback, still frozen with shock at the fact that she'd just kissed me.

"Th– that was a friendly kiss, obviously," she stuttered out, eyes avoiding mine.

I licked my lips awkwardly. "Yeah, obviously..."

"To say thanks," she added unconvincingly. "Y'know?"

"Mhm."

Neither of us looked up as we stood apart trying to understand what happened. Why did she do that? Did she actually want to? Was she caught up in the moment or was she just seeking comfort? I wasn't sure. But I knew I wished I had reacted quicker than I had.

"We should go home," she mumbled.

I nodded in agreement. "Right. Yeah. Home."

The two of us got back into my car, neither of us saying anything as I drove her back to her place. The radio played quietly in the background, filling the uncomfortable silence that formed between us, and I hated that a good day had ended on a bad note.

Pulling up outside her house, I chewed on the inside of my mouth with discomfort. She cleared her throat and still didn't look my way as she spoke.

"Thanks again for today," she said, before opening the door. "I'll, er, see you whenever."

I nodded, eyes focused on the steering wheel. "See you. I, erm–" I wanted to say something about the kiss, but she clearly didn't and I didn't want to piss her off. So, I said, "Tell Jules and your mum I said hi."

"Will do..."

With that, she got out the car and headed to her front door, leaving me sat there for a moment as I tried to comprehend the situation I was now in.

Why did Leigh have to be so confusing?

[late-to-the-party-81]

Checkmate Epilogue

AN: Here we go, lovely ones, a short and sweet little epilogue. If you have any thots or scenes you wanna see with these two, then please send me an ask. This series is un-Beta'd. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Mood-board by me but photo credits to those who took them.

Edit: Now includes art by the amazing @vibraniumcollar!

Series Master list | Chapter 24

CW: Fluff, breast-feeding, references to Smut, references to pregnancy, Genderfluid Loki.

Word count: 600

As Loki walked up the front path of his home he realised he was smiling. Happiness suffused his entire body in a way he had once though impossible. He opened the door and as he closed it behind himself he looked out the hallway window, the last of the summer flowers in the garden swaying in the breeze. He could hear Chess humming, and his smile widened to a grin.

He walked up the stairs, a rough section of the bannister rubbing against his hand for a moment until his magic smoothed it. One of the treads creaked under foot, until that too, was magicked away. The afternoon sun blazed through the upper windows and through partially closed doors.

He could hear the humming more clearly now, a classical tune that Chess had told him reminded her of him. He walked along to the end room and pushed open the door, and he was bathed in the warm sunlight. A few more steps and he was stood by the rocking chair, looking down at Chess as she held their baby daughter to her breast.

Her small mop of black hair stood out at all angles and she was trying to focus her large, blue eyes on the world around her, but was fighting a losing battle against her milk stupor. The delicate eyelids finally fluttered closed, the small pursed mouth falling away from his wife’s engorged nipple as the infant succumbed to sleep.

Grabbing a cloth from on top of the changing table, Loki placed it over his shoulder before taking his daughter from his wife’s arms. Resting the child against him he gently rubbed and patted her back, Chess smiling up at him as she tucked herself away. The babe let out a sleepy hiccup and Loki moved her so he could cradle her in his arms. Chess stood, arms around Loki’s waist, snuggling into his side as he looked in awe at the child they had created.

“Has my little Hel been good for her mama today?”

“Do I need to remind you again that her name is Helen, and yes she has been good, although you shouldn’t prescribe the notions of good and bad to a baby.”

The stood together for a while, looking out of the large nursery window as the sun slowly set on the early autumnal afternoon. Loki settled the sleeping baby into her crib for her nap, before fully embracing his wife.

“I was thinking, ildflue, that when we feel ready to give this little one a brother or sister, I would like to be the one to carry it. I know that we would need help with that, but to carry a baby, nurture a life like that, it’s just something I would really like to do.”

He fell silent, wondering what Chess would think to that plan. But she just held onto him tighter and lifted her face for a kiss.

“I think that I would love you even more pregnant. The way you loved me round with our child, I would love you the same. In fact the very thought of it is quite arousing. Although I’m not sure the reality of living with a hormonal you for 9 months has quite settled into my brain yet. But, let’s wait until this one is a little bit older, yes? I feel that I might need some proper sleep before we consider a second.”

“Well she is sleeping now, you could have a nap too – you know, sleep when the baby sleeps?”

“But if I went to sleep now I would miss out on you making love to me”

“Well, if you insist?”

“I do. Your Valkyrie demands it of you, my prince.”

End

Tag list: @sidepartskinnyjeans @christywantspizza @xoxoviva @animnerd @turbolisedcomet @goldylions

[potteresque-ire]

Commentary ~ Little Red Little Green Episode 18, “Fruits & Found Family”

Link to original post in Chinese, posted 2021/05/23. Link to official English translation.

(Disclaimer / Notes + Commentary under the cut!) (TW: possible eating disorder)

Disclaimer / Notes:

While the posts by Little Red Little Green (LRLG) are among my most favourite candies, I’d like to remind everyone that they are fake rumours, and should be read and enjoyed as such. ie, all CPN below!

The English translation linked above is the only one authorised by the Fake Rumour House; therefore, please treat all content below as a very casual, very *unofficial* convo between fellow turtle friends! ❤️💛💚

With Chinese being a highly region-specific language, my reactions to it is necessarily filtered through my background, which is, admittedly, somewhat removed from Gg’s, Dd’s and LRLG’s. However, it is not uncommon for even c-turtles (and several times, LRLG themselves) to be lost with what they read / heard due to regional differences ~ which reflects the reality of communicating in the Sinosphere. In fact, the regionality of the dialects used by different “characters” in LRLG’s dialogues is among the most critical elements that make these posts so authentic-sounding, and so difficult to replicate. A fun activity of following LRLG is to watch c-turtles patch their regional knowledge together, from local slangs to food choices, to make sense of what’s going on. 

Okay, with that all said *phew* ... onto the commentary! “p. X” refers to the panel number in the official English translation (there are 7 total in the Twitter post). 

p1. “Fairy”

Likely referring to the similarity between Gg’s current role for 玉骨遥 (The Longest Promise) and LWJ. Dd was praising Gg for being “fairy-like”; Chinese “fairies” (仙) have a certain style especially in visual media, similar to ... LWJ’s ~ otherworldly, white robes that billow in the wind, peaceful to the point of distant, scholarly, delicate. In between the lines, Gg likely said he was simply playing LWJ (hence, the ”act another me” in the translation), which Dd protested... and said Gg was simply playing himself. Whether that means DD IS NOT LWJ!!!!! 😡😡😡 or something else, we’ll know what we get to watch the show!

p1-p2. “Heat”

Yes about the Chang’e 嫦娥 reference!! Despite Houyi 后羿 shooting down 9/10 suns and saving the day, his wife is, indeed, more famous (and therefore the star, the more powerful one), because she’s frequently featured in Mid-Autumn festival art, along with her pet rabbit 玉兔 (”Jade Rabbit”),:

(Chang’e with her bunny, traditional Chinese painting. Source.)

Below is Gg’s rendition of Chang’e / Jade Bunny pair ~ Chang’e being the superman in the drawing while Jade Bunny is crouching on the planet!! 

Guess of the missing convo from Gg’s side: Gg had wanted to bring something to Hengdian (where the filming of The Longest Promise was taking place) to cool himself down, and Dd had said it wasn’t necessarily. Hence Dd’s “My bad my bad” and the promise to send that something to Gg.

The loveliest line in this segment for me—and for many c-turtles— is the one about white hair. Turning grey a common, but very old-fashioned way of expressing worry and poor Dd, who hasn’t even turned 24, is claiming he was turning white because he got so worried every time Gg complained about the heat (Aww). 

Turning grey with worry isn’t limited to romantic situations — it may happen to doting parents with wayward children, for example, or to ancient patriots over their crumbling kingdom. However, it’s also one of the more (very!) dramatic ways to communicate tragic love in Chinese fiction before Western influence allows “love”, as a term / word / character, to be used explicitly in writing romance. 

Here’s a little example, a little diversion that may be of interest. Those who are familiar with the Wuxia classic Return of the Condor Heroes 神雕俠侶 by Jin Yong 金庸, whether it’s the book or its numerous visual adaptations, may remember how the hero, Yang Guo 楊過, went white at his temples overnight after his Shifu and lover, Xiao Long Nv (小龍女), didn’t show up at the cliff at the end of his 16-year wait for her.  

Set photo from a TV adaption of Return of the Condor Heroes, 1995. Turtles may find the actress playing the perenially white-wearing, calm-to-the point-of-aloof Xiao Long Nv, Carmen Li 李若彤, familiar ~ she also played Lan Yi in The Untamed. 

The 16-year wait, the invitation to Carmen to play Lan Zhan’s ancestor (when the two shared similarities in aesthetics and personality), were two of the three references from Return of the Condor Heroes I picked up from The Untamed (the last one was more specific—WWX mentioned Yang Guo’s master 獨孤求敗). This tribute is unconfirmed, but MXTX did say before that Jin Yong’s works were her inspiration. I also read a (small) discussion on whether LWJ’s hair carried a few pieces of white in the final episode, or if the lighter strands in it were a trick of the sunlight. (Here’s a screenshot of the approximate place to look!!) 

While I lean towards the latter (the sunlight), turning white with worry, with love, is a tradition in Chinese storytelling. Here’s a little something I’ve noticed too, on this note ~ both in the actual interviews and in these fake rumours, Dd’s word choices, the way he conveys emotions are sometimes surprisingly traditional. It can be because of his background (which would require a study of how Luo Yang people and Koreans talk); it can be because the traditional way of talking allows for fewer words to be said, fewer things to have to be explicitly explained (example: LWJ), but the effect is that Dd has supplied the most romantic lines in LRLG’s posts because of that ~ romantic because it harks back to the rhythm, the themes of old poetry, of ancient stories that, as were true everywhere in the world, were about love. 

Okay, back to the rumour (and hoping Dd won’t look like Bad Wig Yang Guo in a few more summers!) ....

The line after the one about white hair ... the way I understand the original Chinese sentence is “Heat is The Reason”: ie, anything Dd wants Gg to do and Gg disagrees, Gg would use heat as The Reason (R) to not do it. This anything may be eating, for example, which also has a strong possibility as conventional Chinese wisdom says that heat causes people to lose appetite. Dd’s worry would therefore be: Gg refusing to eat because he claims it’s too hot to do so.

“Corny joke” ~ the Chinese for this is, literally, “cold 冷 joke 笑話”, which becomes a pun as the gzry (team members)’s joke was about the (cold) winter and black hair. So... Dd threw a corny joke to combat a corny joke :D .

p3. “Apple”

The first half I also had to rely on c-turtles to help me interpret what it meant! Regional dialects aside, LRLG has captured dls’s very quick wit, the way his ideas freely hop from one concept to the next and this hopping carries traditional + popular cultural references that I know only a fraction of, not being a local after all. 

I’ve read an additional interpretation of this segment: “big fruit” 大果兒 (as in dls: “Those are all big fruits, all big fruits”) is a Northern Chinese, traditional slang for women—dls might have connected that with the previous line in the convo about being Guowang, as explained in the translation, and “big and juicy” + “touch to feel” being suggestive phrases. Then, given the rare usage of the big fruit = women slang, dls expressed surprise that Dd understood what he meant, went on to say he expected Gg to know it (implying Gg could’ve taught Dd the meaning) ... 

Which led to the entertaining part of this segment. Dd was like “You guys (= Gg + dls) talked?” Dls appeared to have thought of the scenario customarily inviting this question (scenario: someone on the verge of catching their spouse cheating) and began playacting that scenario, started to stammer ... as if he had just been got caught trying to chat up someone’s spouse  ~  ”I-I-I....how to say it ...”. Dd caught on dls’s playacting and went along, continued with the “accusation”: “You’re stammering”. Dls then noted that Dd’s accusation was scary and Dd smiled, ending the playact ~ so, ah, readers, never mess with Dd’s spouse!! Dd gets scary!! 

(BTW: ”nijia na kouzi” 你家那口子 was explained in the translation for a reason ~ It’s a warm, friendly term for a dear friend’s spouse. 😊)

p4. Lychees

Lychees. Has everyone tried them? It’s important not to over-eat them though...

In which the “Feeding Gg” saga continues! This segment is one of those that are wonderful for fic writers who wish to capture Gg and Dd in words. Gg, like many brought up in traditional families, has trouble saying “no” outright, which is often considered rude. As such, he resorted to delay tactics, something he had also done with the fried noodles in The Makeup Room BTS. 

In the BTS, his delay tactics had been to argue that Dd hadn’t eaten his box of noodles and therefore, he couldn’t start (~2:35 mark)—as proper manners indeed dictated. In this dialogue, his delay tactics was to say he’d eat the lychees later, that the lychees would make him too full for the proper meal (rice). 

A cute thing about this convo is that rather than pouting and grumbling his only being LWJ’s replacement (as he had hilariously done in the BTS), Dd had, apparently over the last three years, become an expert on countering such delay tactics. He peeled the lychees, which not only removed a major obstacle for eating, but also set a timer as peeled lychees get dry quickly (and Gg, despite being a picky eater, didn’t seem to like to waste food). He said the fruit could make appetiser. He got the help of their team members, who assured Gg that two lychees would be all right.

Gg’s response to the assurance... takes a little time to explain. 

The original Chinese line for “Great, great, you’re so awesome” was 絕了絕了你們絕了。 “絕了”, a popular phrase used by Chinese netizens, was repeated three times.

絕, literally, means the extreme, the absolute, the end. 絕了 means pretty much the same ~ a thing that is 絕了 is standing en pointe at the edge of the cliff that is The Absolute End of a spectrum. It is the Ultimate. It can't be surpassed. It’s unbeatable. 

絕了 is usually used in a positive sense, as in the English translation, with the positive being implied. If I say the LWJ photo above is 絕了, for example, I don’t need to specify that the extreme in 絕 stands on the good end. It’s understood given the audience of this post are mostly turtles (HELLO *waves*). We’re all heart-eyes here. We agree, without saying, that this photo is The Top, The Pinnacle; it can’t be better. 絕了 is higher praise than Excellent; it’s so good that there are no adjectives for it. Its own presence defines How Good It Is. 

But 絕了 doesn’t have to be positive. If my audience is Su She ... he’s likely to take the same “This LWJ photo is 絕了” to mean the Mariana Trench kind of Absolute—the bottom of the bottom, the Unbeatable, Adjective-Defying Worst. 

絕了 allows for that understanding too.

In this scenario, I interpret Gg’s 絕了 as taking the meaning of both extremes (which make it a fantastic phrase choice!): that Gg thought Dd and the team members were being both the Absolute Best (for thinking of Gg, caring for him) AND the Absolute Worst (for going against his wish to not eat!) Gg’s 絕了 also signals defeat; if Dd and his team members were The Absolute ... Whatever, then poor Gg had no choice but to yield to their wishes. I can already imagine his “I can’t believe I lose this way” Look (see: every rock-paper-scissors he lost, which was ... pretty much all of them), mixed with, perhaps, a healthy amount of bunny tooth warning (how dare Dd et al banded up against him)...

Those bunny teeth had to be taken care of, right? And so Dd went on to say lychees being good omen that ensure things would go smoothly for the eater... targeting Gg’s being a, as c-turtles call it, 小迷信 (literally, “Little Superstitious”, a young + adorable + superstitious person). Dd said that to help Gg justify the choice to eat, to make Gg feel better about his defeat. 

(Of note: I had actually never heard of lychees being associated with good luck before, and a quick search online also didn’t yield any result. This could be a relatively rare association Google failed to catch ... or something Dd made up on the fly to make Gg happy.) 

(Lychees have, however, been associated with romance. If Emperor’s Smile 天子笑 was The Love Drink in The Untamed, then what is Concubine’s Smile 妃子笑? Answer: it’s the RL name of a type of lychees, lychees being the fruit very much adored by Yang Yuhuan 楊玉環, the consort of the Emperor Xuanzong (685-762 BCE) of the Tang Dynasty and one of the four most beautiful woman in Chinese history. Since lychees had only been grown in southern China, the emperor had had the fruit couriered, in express mode involving many horses, to the palace up north to please his favourite wife. Lychees had become a symbol of love from that historical tale.)

Did Gg get Dd’s message then, the love and care packaged in those peeled, sweet fruit awaiting his bite? Yes, but not without a little more fight! “Eat eat eat, (I’ll eat) until you go bankrupt” is a literal translation of his final line. Tonally, I can see the following as being an alternative translation: 

“Fine fine fine. I’ll eat, it’s not like I can bankrupt you by eating anyway!”

If it sounded a little sulky, that’s because it did ... a little sulky AND fiery. As expected from our favourite Chongqing Big Pepper 😂😂😂 (Poor Gg).

Dd smiled at that, needless to say. He won!!! He got Gg to eat!! The world shall rejoice!! 

p5. “Showtime”

There’s a show coming up for Dd (the YH concert maybe?), and Gg offered suggestions. 

The sweet point of this segment is about half-way down the conversation, in the piece of paper 📄 Gg gave to Dd (after “This is for you.”). Dd took the paper, noted the many words on it, and started saying 我把我整個靈魂, translated as “I bring my entire soul”.

c-Turtles have, based on these words, hypothesised that Dd was about to read out a quote that Gg had written on the paper, with the list of items Gg thought Dd should take, before Gg stopped him with a call of his name (“WYB”). The quote was included on the translation (”I give you my entire soul...only, a little good, love you.”) I have also talked about the same quote, in more detail, here.

I’m equally stumped on the final line of this segment. (Sorry!!)

p6. “Found Family”

It’s a heartwarming segment. While LRLG had previously noted that the TTXS bros had communicated with Gg, this segment made clear that they care for him like they do for Dd ~ as family.

* dls mailed Gg a lot of fruit for sharing with the film crew. “Family member needs to be impressive” is a rough translation, but this line does defy simple translation because 排面 a highly cultural concept that has much to do with the equally complex, Chinese concept of face (which this article explains... somewhat adequately). The message to take home is that dls cared enough about Gg that he wanted to make sure Gg wouldn’t lose face in front of the film crew; that, by having enough gifts (fruits) for everyone, Gg wouldn’t be viewed as cheap or inadequate or stingy, or whatever adjective that wouldn’t befit his top idol status. Because dls saw Gg as a member of his family. 

* The prescription from hg had been mentioned in a previous LRLG rumour. 方子 is a Chinese medicine prescription, which, unlike Western formulations, is individualised both to the discomfort / ailment and to the “body constitution” of the person who'll take it, the latter deciding the kind of ailments the person is susceptible to, and which ingredients are expected to be more effective. Chinese medicine also places a strong emphasises on long-term conditioning, whether it’s for recovery from a certain condition or for general good health. A good 方子 is therefore a far more complex and personal thing than, say, a scribble of “paracetamol” / “acetaminophen” on a piece of paper. :D

* fg’s gift for Gg (xx) is something for the waist. A brace support, maybe? For example?

My favourite line in this segment is when hg asked what will Gg and Dd do when they reach hg’s age. Given that the last two items (the prescription and xx) were health-related, I interpreted it as hg worrying about Gg and Dd’s health when they grow old... with all the health problems they already have. It’s the kind of thing a worried parent say to their children ~ my mom has said the same thing to me as well. 😢

p6. “The Cat Paw”

Not quite sure what’s happening here ... not sure what the cat paw is. (Sorry!!) But that é in the translation is Dd’s signature laugh (collection here), which is written as 鵝 (”Goose”) in Chinese 😂.

p7. “The Cat Toy”

Dd appeared to be shopping for a cat’s toy (something that can “hook the cat” in the translation, such that the cat can entertain itself and not rely on human companionship as much). Gg had already bought the toy though and sounded quite proud of it, told Dd to return the toy. The implied cat was, of course, Nut (堅果 Jianguo)... which had been repeatedly referred to in LRLG’s posts as Gg’s daughter.

p7. “Cool vs Cute”

Gg is often viewed as cute, and Dd as cool. Did Dd dislike Gg taking cute pictures for public consumption? Were they scheming an exchange of image? :D

And that’s it for this issue! Ooh, this took unexpectedly long ... I apologise for the ridiculous delay between the original post and this commentary! 

(I wrote half of it, then RL struck and I forgot about it.) (I’m hopeless.) (I need a 方子 for poor memory!!)