#this goes for all my sweet cherubs

[wholoveseggs]

Hello lovely! I was wondering if you could whip up a little something about the reader because self conscious and comparing herself to Hayley maybe she’s a little chubby and such so when Hayley comes back into their lives she’s a little worried. But Elijah always the gentleman comforts her with some good ol sex 🤪🤪 if not feel free to ignore 💕

Reminder

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Your relationship with Elijah feels like its unravelling with the arrival of Hayley and a cutting nickname from Klaus. Fortunately, Elijah knows just what to do to make you feel loved.

♡♡ Thanks for the request, this one goes out to all my thick thighed brothers & sisters. May you all find an Elijah to suffocate between them. ♡♡

4.5k words - Warnings: smut, face sitting, Klaus being cruel, Elijah being sweet.

When you are a vampire time passes differently, things change around you, and sometimes you feel like the odd man out. When you first met Elijah everything was different. Culture, language, even the food and the music. He was captivated by you instantly, he whisked you away from your difficult life and kept you in his bed. Making sure you knew how much he loved every inch of your body. He was your first and only lover, the man who turned you and showed you a world you never thought was possible.

Centuries had passed with just the two of you, then Klaus returned to your lives and with him came the lovely Hayley Marshall. Pregnant, doe eyed and absolutely beautiful.

You weren't jealous at first, Elijah was devoted to you and only you. His heart was yours, that was all you cared about. But Klaus brought his chaos with him, and your noble lover had to keep Hayley safe. She needed to be protected, so Elijah spent more time with her and less with you.

You were alone, and it left a hollow feeling in your chest. You felt forgotten and unloved. Elijah did his best to spend time with you, but it wasn't enough.

Then your mind started playing cruel tricks on you, making you see Hayley and Elijah together. She was so pretty, her body was tall and thin, while yours was plump and soft. You had nightmares of Elijah touching her, kissing her, making her moan his name.

It made you want to throw up.

The whole thing made you feel irrational and insecure, Elijah loved you, he told you all the time, but still the thoughts lingered.

It wasn't until Klaus gave you a certain nickname, that it truly got under your skin.

Little wolf he would purr, calling Hayley to him, the words fell off his tongue like honey. It was such an affectionate term, one with many layers of meaning. It was beautiful and sweet, and Klaus seemed so proud to call her this.

But then there was his nickname for you, Elijah's little cherub. 

It was not meant as an endearment, but as an insult. Klaus was right, you did look a little like a cherub, soft, round cheeks, and a full, thick body. It hurt you, even if you tried not to let it get to you. You told yourself that Klaus wasn't important, his opinion didn't matter. But the words he spoke stuck in your mind.

Everything was going fine, you had mastered keeping your insecurities under wraps, until Klaus and Elijah announced that they were throwing a ball. 

It was Elijah's first time hosting one since the two of you moved to New Orleans. He was a natural at hosting parties, he knew just how to make everyone feel welcome. It was a trait you didn't have. You were too quiet and reserved, people would get bored with you and leave. Elijah was the life of the party, everyone wanted to be around him. You were afraid you would ruin it for him.

You never felt good in gowns, you felt big and bulky. The ones you tried on just made you look worse. You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked like an overstuffed pillow. There was no way you could go out in public like this. You even dug out an old corset to try and make yourself look smaller. It just made your breasts spill out over the top. You were mortified and threw the thing in the garbage. You were starting to wonder what Elijah saw in you.

When he entered your bedroom, you were sitting on the bed, resigning yourself to the dress that you knew didn't suit you. He had been busy with the ball, and hadn't noticed your sour mood. He was all smiles, telling you how beautiful you would look in your dress, and how proud he was to have you by his side. He was dressed impeccably as always, and you felt frumpy and out of place. How could you possibly look good next to him?

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied in a small voice, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

You walked downstairs and the guests began to arrive, all the while Elijah's hand rested on the small of your back. He left you to go greet some guests and you spotted Klaus. He grinned and you saw the flash of his dimples as he made his way over to you. You knew he was going to make a comment, you dreaded hearing what it was going to be.

"Hello, little cherub," he smirked, and your heart sank.

"Please don't call me that," you whispered, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.

"Why ever not? You do look like one," he said, his eyes roaming your body.

"Klaus, stop it," you warned, not wanting to deal with his teasing.

"My brother certainly does seem fond of you, which is odd, considering his type usually looks more like..." he gestured to Hayley, who was across the room talking with Elijah.

You frowned, trying to swallow the insecurity bubbling up, but Klaus still noticed, "Did I hit a nerve?"

"No, why would you?" you lied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't be too upset, cherub, you may not be his usual type, but he seems to enjoy the extra cushion."

His words hit like a punch to the gut. You couldn't believe he would say something like that. It was true that Elijah was quite fit and lean, while you were much softer and thicker. It made you insecure and now that he pointed it out, it felt even worse. You looked over at Elijah, who was talking to Hayley, they looked so good together, she was a perfect match for him.

"You really are an ass," you told him.

He chuckled and said, "I never said it was a bad thing, I think you are rather lovely,"

Elijah glanced up and saw the distress on your face. He immediately excused himself from his conversation and came to you. He could tell that something was bothering you.

"What did you do?" he asked Klaus.

"Me? Nothing," Klaus shrugged. "I was just complimenting your lovely companion," he continued, smirking at you.

Elijah's attention was on you now, he knew something was wrong. His brow furrowed, he could sense your anguish. But before he could say anything Hayley joined the group, her eyes moving from Klaus, to Elijah, and then settling on you.

"Oh, hello," she said, trying to sound friendly.

You nodded politely, not wanting to be impolite, despite the way her presence made you feel. It wasn't her fault, she had no idea you felt this way.

Elijah's hand brushed over the small of your back, trying to comfort you. He didn't realize it, but his touch was having the opposite effect, it was making you even more self conscious. Did he feel obligated to touch you like that? Did he do it for show? Was he just being polite? Your brain was coming up with every reason possible to feel terrible.

You didn't know how much longer you could stay here, watching them, surrounded by a sea of beautiful people, feeling more alone than ever.

You looked over at Elijah, and saw him gazing at you. His eyes were filled with adoration, but it was hard for you to believe it. The voice in your head kept repeating, that Klaus was right, he doesn't really love you, he's just too polite to say anything.

"I was hoping to get a proper tour of the house," Hayley said, interrupting your thoughts, "I've never seen the upstairs rooms, will you show me y/n?"

The question caught you off guard, you had no interest in spending time with her, and it felt like she was just being polite. You wanted to say no, but that would have been rude. So instead you smiled and nodded, following her out of the ballroom and into the hall.

You led her upstairs and she stopped, her eyes scanning the pictures on the wall. Her fingers gently brushed over the frames, and she pointed out an old portrait of the Mikaelson Family.

"God, they are all so beautiful," she sighed, and you knew she was right. Rebekah was stunning, Klaus had a wild, handsome charm, and Elijah was a classic, elegant beauty. They were all perfection, and you had no idea what they were doing with you.

"Is that Freya?" she asked, pointing at another portrait, "she's stunning,"

You nodded, feeling awkward. This was the last place you wanted to be.

Hayley smiled, turning her attention back to the wall, and continued walking. You trailed behind, feeling out of place, and unsure of what to say. Hayley stopped in front of a particular painting, a portrait of you and Elijah. She smiled, and you felt your heart skip, it was your favorite portrait of the two of you.

"You two look so in love," she said, and your stomach twisted.

"Yes, we are," you replied, trying to sound sincere, when really all you wanted to do was cry.

"How did the two of you meet?" she asked.

"He turned me in the 16th century, I was his seamstress," you explained, smiling a little.

Hayley looked at you with surprise, her eyebrows raised, "You fixed up his suits?"

"Well, he wasn't exactly wearing suits back then, but he's always been very fashionable. He liked the way I stitched his shirts," you told her.

"How fast did you two fall in love?"

You bit your lip, and answered, "Well, he persued me for quite a while before I agreed to be with him,"

"Why? Were you scared?" she asked, a smile playing at her lips.

"No, not exactly," you blushed, looking down at the floor.

"Well, what was it?" she asked, genuinely curious.

You gave Hayley a skeptical look, women that looked like her never thought about these kinds of things.

"I mean, he's so gorgeous, and I'm..."

You looked down at your body, your mind conjuring up a list of flaws. Hayley could see the change in your demeanor, she could sense your discomfort. She stepped closer, her hands coming to rest on your arms.

"There's nothing wrong with you, I think you're pretty," she smiled, her hands giving your arm a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes darted to the floor, and you felt the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Thank you, Hayley," you murmured.

"And Elijah thinks the same thing, I've seen the way he looks at you," she added, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

You glanced up and saw the truth in her eyes, there was a softness, and a hint of jealousy.

"Thank you," you said, a blush rising on your cheeks.

"Of course," she smiled, "I hope I can find a man who looks at me the way Elijah looks at you,"

The words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "How does he look at me?"

"Like you are the most beautiful thing in the world," she replied, and her voice sounded wistful.

She turned her gaze to the portraits and continued her exploration. You followed, and as you got closer to the end, Hayley paused, her gaze lingering on the portrait of Klaus.

"I hope our child has his dimples," she sighed.

"And not his ego," you teased, and her face split into a grin.

"That's fair," she laughed, her hand falling on the slight bump of her belly.

You continued your tour of the house, showing her the rest of the rooms, and trying to keep the conversation light. Hayley was kind, and didn't seem to notice your discomfort. When you returned to the ballroom, Elijah was standing with his brother, their heads bowed together, discussing something. He looked up when he saw you and his lips curled into a smile.

Hayley's eyes flicked to Elijah and then back to you, "See, there it is, that look,"

You blushed, and turned your head away. Elijah looked at you with love and affection, but your doubts still lingered.

"Did you enjoy the tour with the little cherub?" Klaus asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

Hayley gave him a warning look, her voice laced with an unspoken threat, "Don't call her that,"

Klaus held his hands up in surrender, but the damage was done, you felt so humilated and embarrassed, you had enough of Klaus and his cruel comments. You had enough of him constantly making you feel bad about yourself. He made it impossible for you to feel secure in your relationship. You felt uncomfortable in your dress, in your own skin, surrounded by people who were objectively better than you in every possible way.

"I'm going to bed," you announced, your voice quiet.

Elijah's brow furrowed, and he reached out to grasp your hand but you pulled away.

"I'm tired," you said, turning on your heel and marching out of the ballroom.

Elijah's eyes were locked on your retreating form, a frown on his face.

"Why did you call her that?" Elijah asked his brother.

"It's nothing," Klaus shrugged, a grin spreading across his face, "she's just a little sensitive,"

Elijah's frown deepened, and he glanced over at Hayley.

"She's a sweet girl, just a little insecure," Hayley sighed.

"Insecure about what?" Elijah asked.

Hayley glanced at Klaus, and he shrugged.

"She's just not really comfortable with herself," Hayley finally said, giving Klaus a pointed look.

He had no shame, his grin only grew wider, and he said, "Come on, she is rather plump, isn't she?"

"But she's so sweet and adorable," Hayley added, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

Elijah's jaw tightened, and his expression darkened, he looked back and forth between both of them.

"You had no right to say those things to her," he told Klaus, his voice laced with anger. "She has a difficult time when it comes to seeing her own worth, you know that, she's been struggling with these issues since the day we met," Elijah continued.

"It's nothing, Elijah," Klaus shrugged, "she'll get over it, she's probably crying into her pillow right now."

The image of you, curled up in bed, sobbing, broke Elijah's heart. He clenched his fists and his eyes narrowed. Klaus really did go too far this time, he really upset you. Elijah would make sure it never happened again.

"Excuse me," he muttered, glaring at his brother before turning around and storming out of the ballroom.

Once you were safely locked away in your bedroom, you sobbed, and the tears wouldn't stop. You had done your best not to show anyone your jealousy and anger, but now everyone knew how pathetic and insecure you really were.

You didn't hear the door open or close, you didn't know Elijah was in the room until his arms were around you, holding you tight against his chest. He didn't speak, and he didn't make you look at him. He simply held you and let you cry until you had no tears left.

Once your sobs had subsided he tilted your head up and kissed your cheeks, catching every stray tear with his lips. He wiped the rest away with his thumb, his dark eyes were filled with worry.

"What happened, love?" he asked. "Tell me what's wrong."

You looked at him, feeling foolish and embarrassed. He had no idea you had been feeling this way. No one did, but now it was too late. You took a deep breath and forced the words out.

"What is it that you see in me?" you blurted out, your face red.

Elijah frowned, looking completely taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

You sighed, frustrated with his cluelessness. "I mean, look at me! I'm not exactly a supermodel."

Elijah chuckled and cupped your cheek, his hand was so warm and soft. "I'm looking," he said, his gaze raked over you and it made you blush.

"I don't understand," he continued, looking into your eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

You huffed and tried to look away, but he held your chin. "I am serious. Why would you ever doubt my attraction to you?"

You bit your lip, still not sure if you should tell him the truth. "It's just...Hayley is so gorgeous, and tall and thin. Then Klaus just calls me your cherub, like I'm some stupid child."

Elijah's gaze softened and he shook his head. "Darling, Klaus was trying to get a rise out of you, don't let him get in your head."

"But he's right... Look at me, compared to her, and Klaus, and the rest of your family. I'm not even that attractive," you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

Elijah frowned and took your hand, placing it on his chest. "Can you feel that?"

You nodded, your hand could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart.

"It's yours," he said softly.

He kissed you, and your heart fluttered, feeling lighter already. His hands slid down your back and gripped your ass, he pulled you closer and you gasped. His tongue slipped into your mouth and teased yours, tasting you.

His hand moved lower and he pulled your dress up, his fingers trailed over the lace of your panties, feeling the warmth and wetness.

"I will tell you this once," he whispered, his teeth grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You are perfect."

His hand dipped into your panties and stroked you, making you moan. "So wet, all for me."

You gasped and pressed your face against his shoulder.

"Tell me who this belongs to," he demanded.

"You, Elijah, it's yours," you whimpered, grinding against his fingers.

"Yes, that's right," he purred. "This sweet, little cunt is mine. Only mine."

He pushed you onto the bed and pulled your dress over your head. He groaned when he saw you wearing the matching set of black, lacy bra and panties. 

He started kissing and marking his way down your body, starting at your neck and moving lower, biting and sucking as he went. You gasped and moaned as he reached your breasts. He undid the front clasp and licked a stripe up the middle, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and teasing the other with his fingers.

"These are so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, sucking until they were hard peaks. "So big and soft," he hummed.

You ran your fingers through his hair, needing something to hold onto. You whimpered and arched up against him, the feeling of his hot mouth was driving you insane.

You squealed and tugged on his hair a little harder when you felt him bite down. He chuckled and sucked hard, letting your breasts go with a loud pop. They were covered in rapidly healing hickeys, and he looked very pleased with himself.

He kissed down your stomach, admiring your soft belly. He cupped it, and squeezed your thighs, making you gasp.

"My perfect girl," he mumbled against your hips.

He hooked his thumbs into your panties and slid them down your legs, you sat up on your elbows to see what he was doing.

He slid them off and leaned down, kissing and sucking on your inner thighs.

"These perfect thighs, squeezing my head when you cum on my tongue," he said, his stubble scratched and tickled you. You let out a breathy giggle as his hands roamed your body, gripping your waist and thighs. He growled with satisfaction, biting the flesh and sucking marks into your soft skin.

"Elijah, stop teasing," you groaned, becoming impatient.

He chuckled and suddenly pulled you into his lap. He held you close and looked into your eyes.

"I love every bit of your body," he hummed, holding you firmly against him. "Every perfect curve, and every soft inch.”

He gave your tummy a small squeeze and kissed your pouting lips. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

You blushed and avoided his gaze. He cupped your cheek and tilted your head up, his fingers traced your features, his gaze was filled with adoration.

"Those beautiful lips, those gorgeous eyes, these perfect cheeks, your soft, little nose," he cooed, kissing your face between each word.

You giggled and tried to hide your face in your hands, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"And this ass," he said as he kneaded the flesh, he lifted you up and smacked it, making you yelp. "It should be in the Louvre."

He kissed you again and slowly grinded against you, his hands explored your body, caressing and squeezing. 

He scooted down the bed and laid back down, looking up at you with a wicked grin. He kept his gaze locked with yours as he pushed your ass forward, signaling he wanted you to sit on his face.

"Elijah, no, I-," you gasped, completely embarrassed. You felt so shy and nervous, not wanting him to look at you up close like that.

Elijah sat up and kissed you. "Do you think you will hurt me?" He asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"No," you breathed.

"Then what's the problem?" He asked, brushing his knuckles over your cheek.

You let out a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his neck. "I don't know."

Elijah looked into your eyes, a kind smile on his lips. "If it kills me, you have discovered quite a loophole when it comes to killing an original," he said, gesturing to his face and grinning.

You giggled and pecked his lips. You closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself, it was hard to explain your nerves. You'd been intimate with Elijah before, more times than you could count, but you couldn't shake your insecurities.

Elijah sensed your hesitation, he kissed your neck softly and leaned up to whisper in your ear. "Please sit on my face, I want to eat your sweet pussy until you scream."

His filthy words made you shudder and you knew you wouldn't be able to say no, so you bit your lip and took a deep breath.

"Okay," you whispered.

Elijah laid back down and gave your hips a gentle tug, pulling you into position.

Your entire body went hot when he spread your thighs apart. He kissed the insides, making you moan.

"There's a good girl," he hummed as his lips danced across your hot skin. He positioned you over his face and you could feel his breath ghosting over your most sensitive area.

He looked up at you and gave you an encouraging smile. "Sit,"

You bit your lip, but slowly lowered yourself down, inch by inch. He grabbed your ass and pulled you down fast, making you let out a squeak of surprise.

The heat pooled between your thighs as Elijah nosed at your center, teasing the soft skin. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair, rocking against him.

You felt a sudden sting as he nipped your thigh. "Stay still, let me do the work."

He licked a stripe up your core, groaning as he tasted you. He spread you open with his fingers, pressing his tongue flat against you, he licked long and slow. He buried his face deeper, lapping and sucking at your clit.

He licked and sucked and kissed, moaning against your soaked cunt. Your eyes rolled back, you tightened your grip on his hair and cried out. The noises he made were obscene, you could hear his mouth sucking at you, and it only made you wetter.

He looked up at you, his dark hair was a mess and his lips were covered in your slick.

"You taste divine, my love," he groaned. "So sweet, just for me."

He sucked hard on your clit, his hand reaching around and grabbing your ass roughly, squeezing and slapping the soft flesh. He growled and began fucking you with his tongue. His hands spreading you open and pressing his face as deep as possible. He buried himself in your pussy, licking, and sucking like it was his last meal. You came hard on his tongue, your thighs squeezing his head tight as you fell apart.

He soothed your flushed skin with his tongue, sucking on your clit once more, making you twitch. You tugged on his hair, gently pulling him away, not able to take the overstimulation.

You moved back and sat on his chest, trying to catch your breath. Elijah caught your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. He was covered in your wetness, and his chin was glistening. He grinned at you, completely satisfied with himself.

You snorted and leaned down, kissing him softly. You hummed, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Elijah rolled you onto your back and pinned your wrists above your head. He pressed his forehead against yours, smiling as you stared at him with a blissful, dazed expression.

"You are so perfect," he breathed, nuzzling his nose against yours.

He kissed down the side of your face and nibbled on your ear, his free hand trailing down your body, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts, your hips, your thighs.

"Every inch of you," he whispered.

"Elijah," you sighed, blushing from the attention.

Elijah hummed and reached down to his pants, undoing his belt and pushing them down his legs. You reached up and helped him undress, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor.

You pulled him close and kissed him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. You could feel him pressed against you, his thick cock hot and heavy against your thigh.

"Look at what you do to me," he purred, kissing down your neck.

He reached down and guided himself to your entrance, rubbing the head against you. He slid inside easily, your body opening up for him.

He rocked his hips slowly, grinding his pelvis against yours, making you moan and grip his shoulders tight.

His eyes locked with yours as he fucked you slow and deep. You clung to him, your nails leaving marks on his skin.

"You see how perfectly we fit?" He groaned, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. "Look at us,"

You both looked down, watching as he thrusted in and out of you, his slick cock disappearing into your body.

"My love, my beautiful girl," he moaned, his voice thick with emotion. "I need you to understand, no one else will ever come close to comparing. You are everything to me."

He buried his face in your neck and kissed and nipped the soft skin. "This perfect body, your heart, your soul, I will never find anyone like you."

You whined and clawed at his back, you could feel the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, you were overwhelmed and so grateful.

"I love you," you choked out, burying your face in his shoulder.

"And I love you," he breathed.

He held you close and fucked you until you were trembling, tears streaming down your cheeks, clinging to him as you climaxed, shaking and crying his name.

He finished not long after, groaning and gasping as he spilled his release inside you, holding you tight.

You both laid there, panting and covered in sweat. You felt light and dizzy, your muscles felt like jelly and it took all your strength to not fall asleep right then and there.

"I want you to know, I mean every word I say to you," Elijah said quietly, kissing your temple.

"I know, Elijah," you hummed, smiling up at him. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Always."

"And Elijah?" You smiled and nuzzled his neck.

"Yes, my love?"

"I think your ass is the one that should be in the Louvre."

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[triptychgardener]

i saw you mentioned that transfem!calliope was practically canon, could you maybe elaborate on that? (im not dissing your hcs btw im just confused on where its suggested in canon)

Hey so it took me a while to get to this just because I wanted to solidify some thoughts about it! Won't go into as much detail wrt my other posts, but we can at the very least start with her handle: uranianUmbra

Uranian is an old-fashioned term, generally used for gay men, though also used in different ways to describe other-gendered people or ways of being, occasionally used as a catch-all similar to how Queer is used today. Its history is complicated and occasionally uncomfortable, as a lot of queer history can be, but notably, one potential root of this idea came from Urning

Now obviously conceptions of gender and sexuality were a lot different then, and I don't want to simplify this, but in Homestuck, it's pretty undeniable that Calliope is a woman stuck in a man's body, and this is likely why Hussie used that very specific word in the first place: to foreshadow the eventual Cherubian Twist.

And not that framing: a woman trapped in a man's body. Cherubs (at least as we are told) have two equal halves who can predominate. But the framing of their entire dynamic makes it very clear that this is Caliborn's body, not Calliope.

Callie's ideal self, in Callie Ohpeee, her Trollsona, is positioned as something to be taken off to reveal her true self. She feels that she needs to conform her exterior to match her interior self, something Caliborn never has to do.

Hell, even as she goes to sleep for the last time, she removes her jacket to reveal Caliborn's shirt underneath. It's his body, not hers.

Not only that, but throughout the story, we see that Callie experiences something close to either dysphoria or body dysmorphia. She hates the way she looks, and affects an especially sweet demeanor in order to not scare people away. She sees herself as a monster because her body becomes the most hideous masculine monster the story has ever known! Literally Lord English.

And shockingly, even though it (in my opinion) handles it poorly, the Epilogues do give us a brief insight into cherub gender, where it basically illuminates that Aranea was kind of talking out of her ass about cherub reproduction, and that Cherubs have no actual biological sex or gender. Meaning that somewhere along the way, Caliborn and Calliope CHOSE their genders, likely influenced by the human and troll internet they were permitted. Callie perhaps forming her own gender in opposition to her brother. This also probably created the ouroboros through which gender became a thing in the first place but thats besides the point. Point is, Callie was likely not a woman until she chose to be a woman. I.e. transgender.

Now the epilogues took it in what I find to be a kind of boring direction, i.e. "well cherubs have no real biological sex so that means I have to be nonbinary now" which is just such a lukewarm take on the imposition of gender but whatever. Point is that Callie is transgender end of story goodnight!!!!!

[florallylly]

i've seen model steve harrington aus. i've seen child steve harrington aus. i present: child model steve harrington

note: this came from my own desperate need to see this conceptualized and i SWEAR i've searched, i just can't find any content with child model steve so. :(

bc little steve harrington was remarkably cherub-like. his large brown eyes and soft pout ensured endless cooing and fussing from his mom's friends. and when he blushed and ducked his head in shyness, they only complimented him more. when he got home that day, his mom smiled at him.

so steve decided that he would put up with the cheek pinching and the squealing. he sat upright in his chair, sitting on his hands so he wouldn't fidget and ruin the image. because he'd do anything to keep his mom smiling at him. if he was being particularly good that day, she'd let him lay his head on her lap on the drive back home.

but everything changed at his father's birthday gala. a nearly eight year old steve harrington sat prim and proper in his seat, but a smile lit up his face--his cheeks round and his dimples showing up. he raised his hand up to cover his giggle, but he couldn't help but laugh at some silly old man with a loose toupee. then he sees his mom approaching, and his face quickly smooths over, going back to the more polite smile he usually adopted when it came to these events.

he'd ruined it. he hadn't continued being the sweet boy his mom wanted. but then, she smiles at him. and introduces him to the man behind her, who says he's a designer. the man holds out his hand, but when steve puts his hand into his palm, he doesn't shake it. the man simply holds his hand, his eyes scanning steve's face. steve tries not to squirm under the attention. but the man nods and smiles at his mom, and he gives two brief cheek kisses to steve, whispering in his ear "you're going to be a star, darling." steve looks at his mom, confused, but she waves him off to continue talking to the man.

a few months later, steve's mom whisks him off on a trip to france. and steve is so excited to go, nearly vibrating in his seat as the airplane prepares to take off. but instead of the eiffel tower and the seine, steve is taken to a studio. he's posed and changed. once again, he's being fussed over, but instead of wealthy socialites, gossiping make-up artists squeal over him. he's "perfect for the shoot" and "the most darling little boy." steve doesn't understand, but his mom is still smiling, so he lets the nice ladies brush powder over his face.

and he looks in the mirror. his hair is a little more tousled and his lips have a slight tint to them and his eyes seem to take up much of his face. he's put into new clothes, and he feels like a doll in their hands. and when he's put in front of the camera, he simply follows the photographer's directions. afterwards, he's bundled into the car and his mom can't stop gushing about how good he was.

apparently, he's a natural. and then she goes back to fussing over him, focusing more on appearance than his behavior now. but she takes him out shopping and they eat at an upscale restaurant along the champs-elysses. and steve is happy.

and then they go back home, and his mom is so much stricter than before. she has him try out all kinds of different hair products, determined to find the best combination to keep it looking shiny and soft. she controls his food intake and what he wears and makes him use weird creams and serums on his face. but this is what makes his mom happy, so he's happy to let her.

his mom is also on the phone a lot more lately, whispering harshly about the quality of brands and steve just assumes she's being picky about the clothes she buys. later, his mom picks him up and holds him, and asks if he'd like to move to italy. she looks at him intently and it's obvious what answer she wants, so steve nods. she smiles and holds him close, and it's the most loved steve has felt in a while.

so they move to italy, and suddenly steve is a lot more busy. he's put in front of more cameras for more people he doesn't know. but he's smiling and pouting and doing whatever they want him to do. his compliant attitude and polite nature have photographers and designers alike singing his praises, and steve always looks to his mom for approval. but she's been arguing with his dad a lot lately, so she's upset more often than not. but that's okay, the make-up artists are always kind to him.

but then one day, his mom takes a phone call in the middle of the shoot. and when it finishes, she's gone. steve goes back in, close to tears, but the make-up artists still hanging around look after him until a car is sent to pick him up. this becomes a trend. and eventually, steve goes alone to his shoots. he's always taken care of by the crew and someone is always there to pick him up, but it's not fun without his mom there.

but he knows that she's always enjoyed him taking pictures, so he continues to do so, hoping that she'll come watch him again sometime soon. and he busies himself with befriending the chatty make-up artists and the bossy photographers and the eccentric designers. and he's such a cute little thing that they can't help but dote on him.

steve is never catapulted into child stardom, as his mom is picky with his jobs, only choosing luxury brands and well known designers for him. but within the industry, they call him the "little prince."

and then steve is catapulted into puberty, but his intense skin regimen prevents him from getting acne, save for the occasional zit. and his diet and religious exercise schedule help maintain his look. and he's still doing remarkably well, especially now that he's fully aware that he is a Model.

and steve has truly grown into his looks. with time, he's grown more comfortable in front of the camera and made numerous friends. nearly all of them are older than him, but they're fun and loud and it fills up the space that normally surrounds him. and they're the ones who get him hooked on american movies. steve remembers living in america, but he's been in milan so long that everything he recalls is vague.

but he watches them and falls in love with the american high school experience. so when he finally catches his mom off the phone and actually in the house, steve asks if he can go to school in america. and his mom laughs. but steve keeps asking, which devolves into begging. and his mother snaps, slapping him across the face and calling him ungrateful. she cries and begs for forgiveness, cowed into shame by steve's desperate attempt to hold back tears.

and so she lets him go to school in hawkins, indiana. an odd choice, but his parents just so happened to own a property there. (in truth, both of his parents expected him to change his mind within the year). but steve finds his place at hawkins high, because even though nobody in hawkins has ever heard of versace, steve is pretty. he's pretty and charming and he knows the right thing to say. after all, he's spent his whole life perfecting his mask.

and even if his mom ended up moving back home with his dad, leaving steve all alone in that big empty house, steve is happy. he's finally hanging out with people his age and high school is so far removed from the glitz and glam of the fashion industry. and he's settled and content with tommy and carol by his side. while he misses his friends back in milan, steve finds himself longing for the clothes more often. hawkins was certainly the opposite of milan, what with the nearest mall being two hours away and only equipped with a macy's and jcpenny.

through it all, steve is determined to be normal. he laughs along with jokes he doesn't quite get and rolls his eyes at carol's cue, and he joins the swim team. and he joins the basketball team. and he goes to parties and kisses girls and wears dumb little polos with his letterman jacket and does everything that he saw in the movies.

but nancy wheeler is different. steve can't forget his time in italy and who he is and was, and he's reminded of his old life in everyone and everything in hawkins. but not nancy wheeler. she's all hawkins and all his. and then the upside down happens.

and then nancy wheeler breaks his heart.

even after three years, his parents continue to ask when he'll go back to modeling, but he's different now. the upside down and billy hargrove beat that starry eyed little kid who thrived in the spotlight. and nancy wheeler proved that adoration and love is fleeting, so what would even be the point of trying anymore? his dad was a little more approving of steve's retirement/hiatus, saying that steve must want to go to college so he can take over the family business.

but when steve doesn't get into college, he's once again badgered by his mom to go back. but he's grown and changed and he's not sure that he can pretend anymore, so he says no. and they cut him off. enter: scoops era.

the measly scoops salary is not nearly enough to cover all of the new bills and expenses steve has, but he's not willing to leave hawkins. so he reaches out to his friends back in italy, and they refer him to their american connections. steve doesn't model at the same level as before, but he poses for a couple of zines and one artist who got a little too handsy at his exhibition. but he's able to make it through until the mall blows up.

this routine continues and he starts working at family video with robin at his side, but he keeps his side job a secret from the kids, using the excuse of visiting his parents to leave town for his shoots. he's not ashamed, but he knows he wouldn't "be normal" anymore if they found out.

but how does he explain his near mental breakdown at the sight of his healing demobat scars. they're raised and ugly, ruining what should have been a perfect body. and even though he uses scar cream everyday, they refuse to fade away completely. and how could anyone stand to be near such an ugly thing when all his life, steve was meant to be pretty? after all, love and adoration is fleeting.

[spookwyrdie]

Sweet Spot {part 5}

{part 1}{part 2}{part 3}{part 4}{part 5}{part 6}

Baker Felix x Florist reader

summary: You're alone with Felix in the dressing room. He's doing WHAT with the cake frosting? // genre: SMUT // word count: 3.8k // warnings: adult dialogue, explicit sex, p in v, unprotected sex (don't do this lol), food play, cunnilingus, semi public sex, a smidge of exhibitionism, both felix and reader are switches //a/n: Thank you for being patient my little cherubs! It's all been leading up to this! Enjoy! 💘if you're not on the taglist and would like to be, please reply to this post or send me an ask!🥰

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

Lemons. He tastes like sugared lemons. Even when you dreamed about this throughout the years, you never imagined the mix of sour and sweet flavor invading your senses as you breathe him in between kisses. Bringing this fantasy to life means more sensation, more nerve endings to fire off, more thuds of your heartbeat beneath your ribcage. The taste of sweet lemons on Felix’s tongue rushes through you, your skin tingling with anticipation.

His hand grips your jaw as his tongue teases into your mouth, firm fingers pressing gently into your cheek. Taking the lapels of his jacket, you tug his body towards yours, the momentum walking you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the vanity. As you lean back, Felix has to catch his weight, bringing his hands down on either side of your body. His figure looms above yours slightly, lips latched to yours, as your hands explore his shoulders. 

He pulls away suddenly, grinning as he grabs the box with the cake in it. He scoops up more of the frosting with his fingers, grabbing your jaw again, and tilting your head back. With a playful smile, he trails a line of the fluffy lemon frosting along your jaw and down your neck. He admires his artwork for a moment, gaze searing into you. After a moment, you snatch his idle hand and bring his fingers to your lips. You greedily pull them into your mouth, your eyes flutter shut as you whimper. Your tongue swirls around the digits, licking them clean of the tangy sweetness. The way your eyes rake over him imprints into his skin. Felix hisses through his teeth at the feeling of your hot mouth on his fingers, his hardening length beginning to press against the fabric of his pants. He pops his fingers out of your mouth, snaking his hand around to grip the back of your head, cradling it as you arch back.

“You look sweet enough to eat when you’re a mess like this,” he says. He pounces on your throat, pressing his tongue flat against the trail he made with the frosting, laving over the sensitive skin as your moan echoes in the room. He clamps his other hand over your mouth, muffling the sound.

“We’re just getting started sweetheart, do you want someone to find us already?” He murmurs with a smirk on his lips.

“Mm-mm,” you whimper under his hand as you shake your head. 

“Then you’re going to have to control your volume,” he says matter-of-factly as his mouth finds your neck again, cleaning up any sugary residue left. His hips jolt towards yours, swearing under his breath. “I’ve waited so long to do this.”

His lips crash on yours again, not giving you enough time to process the swell of emotion that threatens to crash over you at his words. His hands swiftly find the top of your dress, wrenching down the fabric roughly. Warm hands cup your breasts, thumbs grazing over your nipples, as he kisses a trail down your neck. Your back arches into him as he goes from harsh and intense to gentle and soothing, the whiplash making your head spin and your panties wet. Every pull, nip, or flick of his tongue sends you deeper into madness, clenching your hands into his jacket with a whimper. You push your chest into him, chasing after the sensation of his plump lips on one nipple as his fingers pinch the other. Felix sucks hard then pops your breast out of his mouth. Just as you're about to protest, he puckers his lips and blows cool air onto the sensitive, wet skin, making you shudder.

Felix chuckles as he straightens up again, reaching over to the cake once more, gathering up another dollop of frosting. His eyes are bright as he smears it on your nipple, immediately bringing his hands to squeeze your breasts together as he dives back in, mouth first. He’s making an absolute mess out of you, the color rises to your cheeks as arousal burns through your body. You can feel how wet you already are if the slick feeling between your thighs is anything to go off of. As Felix’s mouth works you over, sucking angry love bites into your skin, you let your mind fall into the moment, your grip on his biceps the one thing keeping you grounded.

The ache between your legs is persistent now, you can feel the throb of your racing heart settling deep in your pelvis. You can’t take it anymore, watching Felix look up at you innocently while he flicks his tongue back and forth over the tips of your breasts. 

“Fuck, you taste so good.”

“Then eat me,” you pant, sliding your hand into his hair on the back of his head, fingers entangling his icy blonde hair. You yank down, pulling his head back from your chest. The groan he lets out is guttural, melting into your touch as his eyebrows pinch together.

He stares up at you, mouth agape from the hold you still have on his hair, an eager look in his wide brown eyes. 

“Here?”

“Right here,” you say, your voice dipping into a sultry tone. 

Felix drops to one knee, pushing your dress up your thighs. You lean back on the vanity, the exposed skin on your back meeting the cold mirror makes you gasp. He runs his hands up your plush thighs, digging his fingers in before hooking his fingers onto the elastic of your panties. He slides them down slowly, marveling at the way your cunt is already glistening for him, a string of arousal connecting the fabric to your skin as he peels it down.

You can feel your heartbeat pulse through you in anticipation. Everywhere that Felix has had his hands tonight seems to tingle. He hasn’t even touched you yet where you most want it, yet you feel yourself clench around nothing, silently begging for him to pick up his pace.

But he is relentless. Determined to draw out as much from you as slowly as possible, teasing your body until you’re worked up into a fever pitch before he even considers touching you. His fingers caress your skin gently, all the little nerves surrounding your pelvis lighting up, the electricity buzzing underneath your skin. His fingers dance around your cunt, never making full contact, while he presses gentle kisses on your thighs, admiring how they quiver under his touch. 

“Felix, please-” you whine, your hips jolting at every little skim of his fingertips.

He smiles lazily at you, looking up under his eyelashes, his freckled cheeks tinged pink. “Hmm?”

“Please! Just fucking tou-” your sentence is cut off by him pressing his mouth into your folds. He plants a few tender kisses there before he flattens his tongue, licking a long strip between your lips. You lose the ability to speak as he takes long, excruciatingly slow licks at your cunt. Gathering up your arousal with his tongue, he spreads it around, finding your swollen clit easily. He’s teasing you open, hands splayed on either side of your cunt, spreading your lips for a more intense, direct contact. At first, you yelp, the stimulation is overwhelming, but soon you find yourself grinding against his face, chasing after your high. 

Your hand finds his head again, gripping your fingers into his hair harshly. He groans at the touch, his deep voice resonating through you as he works you over at his languid speed. His hands roam your body, grabbing onto every bit of flesh he can in his reach, he guides you towards your peak.

“M-More!” you cry, trying to press into him. His grip is too strong for you, he easily has you in his iron grasp.

“More?”

You nod feverishly, lost in the sensation. You look down at him, a wicked grin greeting you as he kitten licks your clit.

“Okay,” he says, one hand slipping between your thighs. “Remember you asked for it.”

One finger slips into your wet entrance. At the same time, Felix attaches himself to your clit, pulling it into his mouth and batting it around in the heat of his mouth. Your eyes slam shut as you cry out, your whole body convulsing as he controls your body so deftly. He slips a second finger in, delicately stretching you. You gasp, choking on your own voice, as he crooks his fingers in a beckoning motion, internally commanding you to come.

Explosive is the only way to describe it. You’ve never had someone pluck your strings in such an expert way. It’s like you don’t even need to guide him, he knows your body more than you do - even though this is the first time he’s ever touched you this intimately. It feels like your orgasm detonates inside of you, radiating through your body as you feel every nerve ending light up. You shudder out a moan, lurching forward as your muscles flutter around his fingers. His head becomes an anchor point for you, your thighs clamping around him as he bullies your clit through your orgasm. 

Your heart is thumping rapidly in your chest as you try to come down. Felix eases you down from your high, lapping up all your essence as your hips still spasm at the lightest touch. A sheen of sweat covers your body, panting as you look down at him. He looks up at you with awe, slipping his fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth. His eyes flutter shut at the taste. 

“How does all of you taste this good?” he pants out. You can feel his hot breath on the tops of your thighs. Realizing you must have suffocated him for a few seconds makes you feel a little bashful. It’s been a while since you’ve felt that carefree, letting yourself sink into a moment and putting your insecurities to the side for a change. 

You tug on the collar of his shirt, inviting him off the floor. He lifts himself slowly. Why does he look so shy all of a sudden? Felix leans his forehead against yours for a moment, closing his eyes. “It’s been a while since I’ve done that. Was it okay?”

You frown at him in confusion, chuckling at his nervousness. “Felix, you made me see stars.”

“Really?”

You snake your hand down his torso and find his belt buckle. Hooking your fingers behind it, you yank his body closer to you, his hips slotting perfectly between yours. He looks down at your hand, watching as you slowly undo his buckle.

“Really.”

Your hand finds its way to the button of his slacks as you capture his lips for a searing kiss. Tasting yourself on his tongue drives you wild. His hand slips around to the back of your neck, holding you in an iron grip. You move to unbutton his shirt, pulling it out of his waistband, undoing only the last few buttons. Stopping right above his belly button, you rake your nails over his stomach, his abdominal muscles lurching as you skim your nails over his skin. 

He groans into your mouth as you tuck your hand into his pants, palming him over his underwear. He’s thick and hard in your hand, his groan turns into a little whimper in your mouth as you grip his length. You feel the little damp spot that had formed on his underwear, thumbing it over it gently. His hips shudder under your touch.

“You did such a good job,” you mutter, pulling at the elastic of his underwear and snapping it back onto his skin. He yelps, then chuckles into your mouth. 

“This is…unexpected,” he says, gasping at how your hand works him over. Pulling down his underwear, his length springs out, slapping wetly against his lower belly. 

“What’s unexpected?” you ask, grasping onto him slowly, fisting over his hard cock. “Me wanting to make you feel good?”

He hisses at your touch, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “Y-yes…” he mumbles, voice muffled by his mouth on your shoulder. 

You find the sensitive little nerve on the underside of his cock and rub it with your thumb. His back arches, throwing his head back as he whines at the intense stimulation. You giggle at how quickly he’s coming undone, his cheeks dusted with pink, flushed with desire.

“I’ve always wanted to make you feel good, Felix.”

His tie is still around his throat, a little disheveled at this point. You grip it with your free hand, pulling his face towards yours again. He whimpers, a pathetic little noise, as you steal his lips again. Both of his hands lace around the back of your neck, grappling you slightly as his hips start to thrust into your fist. You shift your body closer to his, positioning yourself in such a way that the blunt head of his cock slides between your folds, nudging against your clit with every rock of his hips.

“Fuck, Y/n!” one of his hands grips onto the hair at the back of your head, leaning you further back as he ruts against you. His eyes fly open, that crease between his brows deepens, a loving agony on his face. His hips start to stutter as his whines become more desperate, his voice cracking from exertion.

Abruptly, he pulls away from you, putting distance between your bodies. He’s still got his hands on your hips, but he’s leaning away from you. Still holding on to his tie, you watch as he tries to catch his breath, his flushed cock twitching. It bounces helplessly in the air, searching for any sort of friction. 

“S-sorry,” he pants out. “I got…so fucking close... Hang on…”

A warmth blooms in your chest. Watching Felix nearly come just from grinding against you makes you blush, arousal dripping from your entrance again. Eventually he leans back towards you, laughing under his breath. His kiss is long and leisurely, like he’s studying your reactions, learning you more and more by the minute. None of this dulls his desire though, his cock still hard between the two of you, a bead of pre-cum decorating the tip.

“Felix…” you whisper into his mouth, fingers clutching his shirt. “I need you.”

He nods, giving your nose a little peck, before grasping the base of his cock. Teasing through your heat again, he laughs at the frustrated little growl he pulls from you. The way his tip catches on your entrance as he brushes against you, but slides away has your head spinning. Felix giggles again, loving how easily you get riled up. His laugh morphs into a moan though as you hook your legs around his thighs, pulling him towards you, sinking into you slowly. 

His cock was made for you. The stretch is just enough to leave you breathless, his length fitting inside of you to the hilt. With the agonizing, lingering thrusts, he’s hitting every sweet spot inside of you, as if you were designed specifically for one another. His gaze never leaves your face though as he bottoms out, gasping out your name as his hips meet yours. It takes you only a moment to adjust, opening your eyes to find him staring at you, watching your every move. His lips quirk into a small smile, as if he’s surprised you’ve noticed him, pulling out slightly and pressing back into you with a hiss.

The butterflies start to ricochet in your chest again, which feels like it contradicts the pulse of desire from where you and Felix are connected. You realize you’re connected in more than just the physical way, the safety and longevity of your friendship has created a haven for you both. It’s Felix. He loves you. You love him. It’s that simple. You chuckle at the idea that you were ever worried this would ruin your friendship.

Felix groans, eyes slamming shut. “If you laugh like that again, I’m not going to be able to take it slow.”

You giggle again, realizing that your muscles clench around him tauntingly each time you do. His groan is deeper as his body convulses from your teasing.

“I’m serious…” he pants.

“Who told you to go slow?”

His hips falter for a second, his eyes search your face for any hesitation. Finding none, he pulls nearly all the way out, teasing your entrance with light shallow thrusts. This time, it’s him laughing at your irritated pout.

“Felix, I swear, if you don’t fu-” your words die on your lips as he slams back into you. Your body rocks against the vanity at his sudden change of pace. He’s pulling all the way out and plunging back into you fiercely with each thrust. 

You moan at every slam of his hips, your head falling back against the mirror as the vanity shakes from the force of his movements. You meet every thrust greedily, pulling him in even more with your legs around his waist. The way his fingers dig into your skin will definitely leave bruises. You couldn’t be more ecstatic about the idea of Felix littering you with marks from this moment. 

“FUCK! You look so good right now,” Felix says as your eyes roll back. You moan in response, language failing you. He grits his teeth as he continues his barrage. “I wish you could see how lovely you look while I fuck you.”

Through the haze of Felix filling you up, a lightbulb goes off in your head. You drop your legs to the floor and bring a hand to his chest, gently pushing him. Felix gives you a confused look but slips out of you, putting a hand out to help you stand.

On wobbly legs, you turn your body away from him. Pressing your back against Felix, you lean your head on his shoulder to kiss his neck. His arms wrap around you instantly, confused but happy at your sudden affection mid fuck.

Your fingers find his tie again, winding it around your hand and pulling as you lean over the vanity. You catch his gaze in the mirror, surprise written on his face. 

“Show me,” you say.

“What?”

You roll your eyes with a smile, waiting for him to catch on. “Show me how good I look while you fuck me.”

You watch as the gears turn slowly in his head, looking down at your hand still pulling on his tie. It’s like he’s leashed just for you, yanking him towards your bent form, your glistening cunt on display. He swears under his breath as he lines himself up with your entrance from this position.

This time, you watch his face intently as he bottoms out. It’s much deeper from this angle. You feel the intense pressure, as if filled to the brim with Felix. His eyes flutter shut at the sound of your whimpers and the feeling of you wrapping around him. You whine and watch your own expression contort as he leans over to bite your shoulder, soothing over the sudden pain with his soft tongue.

There’s a muffled voice from out in the hall. 

“Johnny wait, let's get you some water fir-”

From behind, you’re already climbing towards your second climax, the position allowing Felix to hit you in that small spongy spot that makes you see stars. Your skin tingles again, feeling your muscles begin to flutter in the anticipation while he chases his own high, slamming into you at a much faster pace, fucking into you with reckless abandon. 

“No!” a muffled voice hiccups, slurring his words. “I need the key to my suite for my wedding night!”

One of Felix’s hands comes around to grip your jaw, pressing two fingers into your mouth. You pull them in, welcoming any and all forms of Felix being inside you, drooling on the digits. When his fingers are covered with your saliva, he quickly brings his hand down between your thighs where he’s hammering into your cunt. Easily finding your clit, he rolls it in gentle circles, coaxing you to an even higher point than you thought possible.

The door suddenly swings open as a shit-faced Johnny takes in the scene before him. Felix hasn’t noticed yet, his focus solely on making you come on his cock. But when your eyes flick to the commotion at the doorway, you make eye contact with a bewildered Johnny, his mouth dropped open in shock.

“F-fuck, Felix!”

Your orgasm hits you like a train, your muscles clamping down harshly on Felix’s cock as you cry out, spasming from the force of your climax. You’re not sure if anyone has ever made you come this hard. Maybe you and your showerhead, or you and your favorite toy, but it’s never felt like this. A perverse sense of triumph swells in your chest at the act of getting caught, by Johnny no less. You know in the years of fumbling and naive moments you had with Johnny, he never made you come like this. 

You gush on Felix’s cock, perfectly slamming your soul out of you as you pull his tie even tighter towards you. The tension from the harsh hold you have on his tie makes Felix’s hips stutter. He soon follows with a deep groan, the fluttering of your muscles, the feral whimpers coming out of your mouth, the convulsions of your hips, all driving him to madness. He pulls out harshly at the last minute, spattering your ass with his cum.

He’s breathing hard as he looks up, following your fucked out gaze towards the door, seeing Johnny standing with his a stupid look on his face. The man is fully sputtering, not being able to form a sentence, watching the cum drip down your ass. Felix makes direct eye contact, smiling with his tongue between his teeth, he winks at Johnny. 

Peter and Bobby push into the room, grabbing the humiliated Johnny by the shoulders. They both laugh and shake their heads at the scene - a gobsmacked Johnny walking in on his ex getting fucked better than he ever could. As they half march, half carry the drunk groom away from the dressing room, Bobby leans back in the door frame while you’re straightening up, giving you a thumbs up.

You and Felix both giggle, still trying to catch your breath. He presses a kiss between your shoulder blades and your hand falls away from his tie. 

“Well,” you say, smiling at Felix as you both get semi dressed. “I wasn’t expecting an audience.”

He chuckles as he brushes some hair out of your eyes before wrapping you in his arms. “But what an audience we had!”

You feel his laughter rumble through his chest as he pulls you into an embrace, pressing idle kisses into your hair. You both stay like that for a moment, just enjoying the feel of being wrapped up in the other person. Felix breaks the comfortable silence first.

“Come on, let’s go back to your room,” he says. “I think for round two, we can go a bit harder.”

taglist:

@binniesbabe @jeonginsleftcheek @ivydoesit23 @stayatinykatsy @mong---mong

@palindrome969 @dottydarling @chiaki-nanami-aesthetic @minnieprincess85 @jabmastersupriseee

@birdfool @jaquisos @loudpeachdetective @tirena1

[spoiledmiyilk]

Juandissimo x Cupid fanchildren let's goooo!!!

💘💜

And of course, I'd like to talk a little about them.

Starting off with Eleos-

He's the oldest, therefore,the first given the responsibility in taking Cupid's place as soon as he retires. He never really had much contact with his siblings,here and there he goes to visit them,but rarely gives more than 5 words, which the majority of time are simple polite greetings.

He got a good father-son relationship with both of his dads, though clearly he shows to have a more mature behavior than both of them combined, always leading him to be the one who fixes all their mess.

Overall he isn't very interesting,I saw this dude in a random dream I had and immediately decided to make him my Oc.

Eleos was born during a period where Juan and Cupid weren't married yet, barely dating (so yup, he's an accident).

Berrie (Or Bernard)-

Second child,born from another marriage between Juandissimo and another woman, which didn't last more than 2 years due to a lot of complications. By this time,Elos had been living with Cupid while they were co-parenting.

Berrie tends to get very quiet and apprehensive whenever he's out of home or talking to new people,yet is a completely different person whenever you get to know him well (he won't waste a time from yapping about his favorite interests to his friends,Phen and Cawii). He appears to be very insecure about his appearance and tends to compare himself a lot. Unlike many fairies, Berrie has a natural ability to control plants {such as healing abilities from the core of a plant that it has the ability to absorb, either by the root or whole}, without needing a wand,a great individuality compared to many in question of power level.

Berrie never had much contact with his mother,all he knows is that she's from a grand family line of healers.

Berrie has an obvious crush on Cosmo and Wanda's daughter,Cawii. Cosmo does not like him.

Lovey and Dovey- (Lovelyn and Darrow)-

The most clumsy Cherub duo you could ever find. Everyone tends to think they are Cupid's biological children,due to how similar their appearance is,and can you blame them? Yet no. Both are his adopted pupils, who have been living in the mansion since the day he found them in front of his door. They both have a lot of respect for Cupid,even dying both of their hairs in pink tones.

Lovelyn has a sweet,kind and helpful personality,yet she might show a destructive behavior if you get on her nerves.

Darrow is more of the chill, carefree type,not in the mood to deal with any love deals or trivial things like that. He's mostly the one to deal with solving friendship problems other than romantic ones,this is left to Lovelyn. He's 8 months younger than his sister and he has a terrible vision.

Nyx and Hedone-

Juandissimo and Cupid's younger twins,born from a very healthy and lovable chapter of their marriage.

While Nyx tends to be the quieter one,Hedone always acts like she ate a whole jar of star sugar.

[bowieandqueen11]

Give Me Your Heart / Jareth Imagine

Request: Hi im not sure if you're taking requests bit could you please do a Jareth x gn reader where he teaches his s/o how to dance. However it's just between them, no music, no guests, just them in an empty hall? Don't feel pressured to write this. Hope you're doing well :)

Ooh it’s been far too long since I’ve written for Jareth, and this idea is so sweet and romantic!! Thank you nonnie :)

Also sorry, this ended up being more teasing than I had set it out to be oopsie but I hope you enjoy anyway! ,3

(I do not own Labyrinth or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @ihadadutyovcare.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

‘Now darling, even you know by now that your hand goes on my waist.’

You try to stifle your laugh, instead pressing your growing smile against the itchy notched lapel of his jacket. Jareth’s warmth envelops you immediately, helped on by the tickle of his fringes as they brush over the glowing curve of your cheek. It’s a soothing, tender kind of gush that sweeps through your muscles as you feel his hand reposition its grip, safe within the knowledge that no matter how clunkily you stepped on the tips of his toes and scuffed the edges of his boots, he would hold you tightly against his chest and never let go.

You slide your hand back up to the rather tense muscle of his waist with a teasing sigh, enjoying the way the domineering sovereign before you is wrought with a rack of shivers from your sole touch alone. He groans as your fingers trace and scratch around the joint, his eyes rolling back slightly in his head as you take full advantage of his obviously flustering state.

‘Now Jareth, do I hold my arm up like this?’, you take a step back from him and ostentatiously draw your elbow away from his side and swing it up in the air, dragging his own arm along with it. ‘Or does it come round here...hmm, in this sort of position?’ You drop his fingertips that were gently resting on top of your own and swing forward, looping your arm around the Goblin King’s neck. His eyes widen in a fervent kind of shock as your palm flattens against the back of his neck and pulls the bewildered man down to reach your lips. 

Once he regains his composure and realises there’s nothing more delightful in this moment than relishing in the feeling of kissing the love of his life back, he tips one leather gloved finger under your chin and tilts you further up to meet him. With pliant lips, he slowly draws away and presses a last, lingering kiss against your top lip; despite the fact that you were the one to initiate the peck, you were also the one left breathless. Contently, he closes his eyes for a moment before sighing in bliss and smirking once again.

‘Now now, my diamond streaked star, if you keep teasing me so I shall have to reprimand you for such insolence. Perhaps I shall tie your hand to mine so you can never escape’, he tenderly takes your right wrist and drags the back of your hand down the side of his cheek. As he does so, he grips you back to him again. Without breaking the passionate eye contact that blazes a crimson shrine, a travailing opal blossoming in the minute space between your bodies, he begins the move the two of you a step backwards.

‘Or maybe even that wouldn’t be enough.’ He reaches an arm up, twirling you around until you’re gliding like a wound up music box figurine: porcelain, fated, pure perfection. His boot knocks against your own shoe, turning it to the side as he lodges his knee in-between your own; Jareth is almost carrying you at this point, guiding your feet backwards and to the left, whizzing over the gleaming marble stained tiles of the looming hall.

 ‘Perhaps, what is needed to succinctly convey the message, would be to capture your heart and keep it safely locked within mine forever.’ Before you can even take a breath, his hand has wound around the small of your back and he’s knocking you backwards. The gentle-stricken winged cherubs that are moulded to the corners of the gold crested ceiling are fleeting as they pass by your eyes; the crystal encrusted chandelier that beams haloes of light past your vision is soon replaced by the shimmering blue of the violet banked sky. The glory of the starlight that swirls pockets of alight silver over the upside-down edge of the outer stone balcony is only seconded by the feeling of Jareth leaning over you.

The soft groan that escapes your mouth elicits an amused hum from the man, who nuzzles his nose against yours like the cat who got the cream. While his left hand is busy holding your hips flush against his midriff, his right busies itself with running down your side slowly, setting every nerve in its path alight with anticipation. Eventually, after far too long a wait, your closed eyes grimace in bliss as you feel his lips brush feather soft, licking against the pulse point on your neck.

‘After all, it’s not so long at all, if only you can live without it’, he murmurs between nibbles against the curve of your shoulder. ‘For I know I could not. If you took your heart away from me, you would cause me to fall into ruination.’

This was going to be a long night indeed.

[louisisalarrie]

Due to the large amount of debating on Twitter around stunts and forcible closeting and who gains what from the partnership, let’s talk about stunts as someone who works in the industry and has a degree in this shit, baby!!!

Okie dokie. Stunts are just about our least favourite thing in this fandom, and we watch the boys get exploited, used, and see that they are thoroughly and visibly upset during pap shots and any public event with said stunt. I will be touching on bbg here, as a warning. But this will look particularly at Harry’s stunts, a bit more than Louis’, because people seem to all be fighting about Harry and TR at the moment, and there have been a lot of nasty things said between solos and larries and yeah… let’s have a chat about this all, so you folks can have a little more context of behind the scenes, and also a more thorough understanding than just “that stunt gf is using him for his fame and is part of the problem by forcibly closeting that artist”. Sooooo yeah, let’s get into it. I’ll break this down by Harry/Louis, and we can have a good look into this together. Feel free to hit me up in my inbox for any questions/comments etc., my loves. A lot of this stuff you might already be aware of, but yeah. Just thought I’d do something a bit more in depth while all this discourse is happening.

Harry - a brief history of stunts/his image, and why TR is his beard right now

So, we are all certainly aware of Harry’s past, with everyone from Caroline Flack, to Taylor Swift, to Kendall Jenner… the list goes on and on. His image was doctored to fit the ideal womaniser - sweet and funny, but flirty and cocky. If he was marketed as a dick, no one would idealise him, obviously. So he was allowed to be himself, as the sweet boy we all know, with the exception of flirting with every woman that breathes, and bedding them immediately, before moving on. He was still desirable like this. He was still seen as somewhat attainable, because he was never tied down. He didn’t do long term, he did one night stands and would keep women around long enough until the next pretty little (famous) thing came along. They wanted him to be seen as a sexual being, as so many young male boy bands are full of “goody two shoes” and are little happy cherubs who sing about what makes you beautiful, not waking up with a hard on.

So, his image flowed with the times. They seeded that baby as a womaniser, so when the band got older, he could be seen with multiple stunts, and be even more attainable than someone with a long term partner (Louis) because he didn’t fall in love. He was sex, and rock n roll, while playing innocent as well. It was a different twist to your usual “bad boy” narrative… the young girls saw him as a beautiful sweet angel, and the older girls thought they had a chance to have sex with him (multiple “receipts” that said Harry asked for numbers from fans and took them backstage after shows also posted on Tumblr/Twitter which the older fans had accounts on). They covered the very wide demographic that one direction had with this image, while keeping him closeted. S*mon always thought he was gonna be the main boy, so why not do whatever they can to give him even more PR? Two birds one stone, right?

Anyway, stunting is, and always has been, a crucial part of PR. The general public, and fans, are always interested to know the love life of celebrities. It causes drama, and gossip, and pays for the families of Paps, journalists, interviewers, etc. ya know? These folks would have a pretty boring job if they couldn’t spread gossip. They get paid more to do so, so it’s just the circle of life in the music industry. Almost all the jobs around an artist are there because of stunts. There’s only so many times a reporter can comment on what Harry is wearing if he’s not seen with someone else.

Anyway, this day and age, stunts have become pretty see through. We can spot one a mile away, anticipate articles, and guess what’s coming next. It’s embarrassing really. But, in the earlier days of stunts, it used to be a mutually beneficial agreement. Celebrity A “dates” and is spotted with Celebrity B, who both have large fandoms and make a lot of money (HS and TS). So, being seen together makes sense. A power couple, if you will. Two of the biggest stars on the planet, joining forces, exposing their already established fandoms to the other person’s music, and both of them gaining more followers, more money, and more clicks in the media. It’s the same with the OW shit show that happened… however, that was marketed as a 2 year long stunt, his longest yet, and was obviously to promo the movie. But, being his longest public relationship as of yet, they kinda dragged him away from the womaniser image a bit. Makes sense, right? He’s getting older, settling down a bit… he’s becoming a professional, not fucking the fans of his boyband backstage, and sleeping with every hot celebrity he sees.

However, because of a lot of these stunts are now being exposed and superficial af, they have tried a different kind of stunt, that, while we’ve seen before in different “womanising” artists, they do this to boost a positive image of the artist in question, and move them away from their… multiple sexual escapades. This is what I like to call the “Girl Next Door” stunt, which is exactly where Harry is at now, and where Louis has been all throughout his stunts.

The Girl Next Door stunt shows the public “oh wow, he’s not superficial!!! He’ll date someone who isn’t super famous and he loves them for them!!! He isn’t using her!! He’s attainable and would date someone like me because I’m not super famous!!!” narrative. Which, for Harry, pulls his image back towards being more “real” and authentic, and, for the fans, causes them to defend him because of this. They don’t see it as an obvious stunt because why the hell would this be mutually beneficial for Harry? Why would he bother to continue agreeing to closet himself with someone who isn’t gonna give him any PR from their own fandom? Who the paps are gonna wonder who she is? Well… it’s because he’s a sweetie pie baby boy cherub angel who doesn’t care about fame and fortune, just treats people with kindness and has fallen in love with someone who wasn’t really in the public eye to begin with. Wow. What an incredible guy.

And while you may say “hang on, TR wasn’t totally unknown, she had a following”, her following was nothing compared to Harry’s before they got together. So, with the above in mind about how this positively boosts Harry’s image, you can see why this is mutually beneficial. It’s not always about the money for both sides.

But… hang on… “why would TR agree to this? She’s actively participating in the closeting of Harry? She’s not a good person!!!!!” Well… if it wasn’t her, it’d be someone else. If every celeb/person boycotted the idea of stunts and refused them due to the fact they didn’t want to closet artists, that would be great. It would be a massive shift in the industry. It would be fantastic. But… that’s just not the way it is right now. And unfortunately I don’t think it ever will be.

Closeting has existed for years in the celeb world, and it’s not just gonna go away like that. Sometimes the artists get to choose who they stunt with, and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes bisexuality is seeded juuuuuust enough to get people talking even more. But in his case right now, that’s why people are relating to TR. that’s why they’re defending her, and that’s why they’re a good stunt for now, because she’s the girl next door. See that image shift, now?

Louis - bbg, long term gfs, and the Girl Next Door

Now that I’ve explained the idea of the Girl Next Door stunt (which I’m sure a lot of you have picked up on already prior to this post), that’s exactly what Louis’ closeting and stunting has been for the past 13 years. Eleanor was an unknown, young pretty girl aspiring to be a model. They had one womaniser in the band, two would just be sleazy, so why not make him somewhat “unattainable” but still show his love and commitment and as he was the oldest of the band, he took relationships seriously? It makes him look grown up, so people can take the band more seriously. They’re not just 5 boys who are fucking everything that moved due to newfound fame. It would keep Louis closeted, keep Harry closeted but in the public eye at all times, and totally remove any possibility of them being in a relationship behind closed doors. Sounds great on paper, right? So… if Louis was the sweet, funny, long term gf boy… then why did he go out and get drunk and fuck some unknown hairdresser in a one night stand and have a baby with her, and it be so public? Let’s have a quick look…

For obvious closeting reasons, someone who is speculated to be gay having a baby is quite a clear cut. They’ve had vaginal penetrative sex, they can’t be gay… right? Bisexuality is often overlooked in the media, but, that’s a story for another time.

So, bbg makes sense. They were seeding Harry’s bisexuality/coming out over mid 2014-2015 buttttt little problem… if Harry was in fact into men, then why couldn’t he be into Louis? Larry Stylinson is no stranger to the press, and to pay off every outlet to include in their article the previous denials of Larry’s relationship in the coming out articles, was more effort than what it’s worth. So, even giving him a male stunt, larry would still be prominent in all press relating to Harry’s sexuality. So, in the plans of Harry’s (not successful) coming out, what do they do with Louis?

Long term gf man Louis became quite the party boy, and slept around with Girl Next Door types. People who weren’t famous. People who weren’t gonna help his career after one direction, nor boost his popularity and exposure. He was almost attainable to fans, as so many fans have met him at clubs before. But Harry needed to be THE one who ended up on top (no pun intended), and THE extra attainable now openly bisexual man. They just had to stop Louis from being a desirable match to pretty princess harry, and kinda pushed him to take over Harry’s womaniser image. So, what better way than to push him into being a grotty undesirable party boy who was getting fucked up and sleeping with random girls? What better way than to make him be extra closeted with a kid whose mum he’d had a one night stand with? It could’ve been any fan… right? Quite the Y/N wattpad story if you ask me…

(Anywho, this isn’t a bbg post so I won’t go into S*mon vs Louis, the big gay war, Belfast etc., I’m just talking plainly about the images to the public eye).

So, bbg sticks and is set for the long term, and so Louis still has the committed image he always did. He’s always been tied down, except… he can’t go from party boy to doting dad in one breath. So a couple of VERY short lived stunts here (including one he did by himself in protest) and there, keeps him attainable. He cares SO much about his little lad, BUT is on the look out for some lady bits at all times. Funnily enough, with women who aren’t going to actively improve his career/popularity. So… Girl Next Door attainability, long term commitment grown up responsibility, and now, stunt free (apart from bbg) for over a year. Party boy louis lives on, though. And that is certainly an interesting deep dive as to why, but again, for another time.

Overall - why the fuck is this all happening?

So, they’ve pushed Harry and Louis as far apart from each other as possible, since 2015. Their images, everything. We know this, we’ve watched it, some of us have been here for it. But why is Harry now Girl Next Door stunting? It’ll be a year of them together in a few months. It’s arguably his first stunt gf who is not popular or influential in any way. Well… his image now is happy go lucky boy who loves everyone and is sweet as pie and while he still has suggestive lyrics and moves on stage, he’s actively been pushed away further from the womaniser image through OW and TR. I believe, since he has shot to fame, they’ve decided to kick him back down and seem more attainable, with a more “realistic and authentic” stunt. It makes him look like a real person again. Obviously, it’s forced closeting and you can plainly see it makes him upset and he’s doing everything he can to move away from it, but… that’s his image for now. They’re moving away from womanising because he’s older and needs to still look attainable and professional and “grown up” (30 yrs old isn’t grown up by any means, but it’s the ageism in the industry and generally around the world that pushes this), and so this is the purpose of TR. now, you can sit here and yell about her being an active part in his closeting, which she is, but if it wasn’t her, it would be someone else. Solo Harries who believe in them being together, would be stanning another chick if she was in TR’s place. It’s a Copy of a Copy of a Copy. Get mad at the teams behind Harry and Louis, not at the girls participating in it. (BBG is somewhat of an exception bc who tf would actively put a baby through that but whatever, the promise of money can sway people like crazy).

In short, Long-Term Tomlinson and Harry Sly-les are still in full force, but in an adjusted way to seem more authentic. Because in this day and age, where everything is fake, authenticity sells.

[chihirolovebot]

mistletoe.

featuring. shuichi saihara x reader

word count. 2.1k

synopsis. you host a christmas party for your classmates, and finally pluck up the courage to confess to shuichi (with the help of alcohol and a conveniently-placed plant)

content. drinking (reader and shuichi both drink), eggnog and shots, kissing, confessions, hope's peak au, gender-neutral reader, mild pining, fluff, safe for work, reader is a little drunk and shuichi is tipsy, mild sexual jokes (miu), pet names (pretty boy), cursing, getting together, kissing under the mistletoe, background kiibouruma and harumatsu.

ficmas masterlist.

It's been building for a while, you think.

Shuichi is lovely. He's kind, and quiet, and endlessly thoughtful in a way that prevails through his nervousness. And he is nervous, pretty constantly on-edge, has been since you started at Hope's Peak a year ago. You've built a relationship around it though, something that's been teetering between friendship and some other, like Other with a capital 'O', a great big warm something like being enveloped in a soft blanket.

It's just pretty hard to get a read on him, sometimes. Sure, he goes red when he sees you and smiles a lot and stammers over his words, but that's hardly saying much. He gets flushed and nervous around everyone. Kaede insists that he likes you, but you're unsure, and you're not willing to waste your friendship on a hunch.

But... it's Christmas, and maybe that has something to do with it. With December passing by the world tilts into a shimmering haze of sparkly lights and tinsel and ice; you're just a little out of touch with reality, and the alcoholic eggnog is not helping. You're fuzzy, warm, floating a little out of your fuzzy socks and boots as the party breathes around you, a cacophony of revolving bodies dressed in scarlet and green and white, Christmas music blaring in the foreground, the apartment alight with festive lights.

You feel dreamlike, like your head's unscrewing, like there's a sparkly filter in front of your eyes and everything is hazy and sweet.

You love your classmates.

Kokichi, Kiibo and Miu slump on the three-seater sofa, heads leant upon each others' shoulders. Miu was drunk, Kokichi and Kiibo decidedly sober, but they indulge her anyway as she rants and rambles. Kaede has got Maki in a corner, chatting animatedly; Kaito, Rantaro and Kiyo sit in a circle playing some sort of intricate card game that leaves a frustrated Kaito taking many shots; Tsumugi and Gonta have scuttled off to the kitchen, sitting upon the countertops and deep in conversation. It's good. Your party is good.

The only thing missing is—

"Ah, here you are..."

His voice floats past you, sweet and quiet, and you turn and he's there, cherubic, lovely, he's even swapped out his usual dark, brooding cap for a lopsided Santa hat that droops around his upturned eyebrows. It matches the pleased flush on his cheeks, his deep dark eyes glimmering with the reflection of all the decorative lights.

Your body feels light enough to float, the world whirling and shimmering around you, fading to nothing as Shuichi comes into hyperfocus, and you sling your arm around his shoulder. Suddenly your lips are by his ear and you're giggling, "Sweeetchi!" against his skin.

He squirms, laughing nervously, his hands finding home gently on your upper arms to steady you. The heat of his steady hands seeps through your clothes. "Are, ah... a-are you drunk?"

"Just a little," you mumble, unable to stop smiling. "'M allowed to be, though! No school tomorrow. And 's my party!"

"I—I wasn't chastising you, or anything," Shuichi hastens to clarify, eyes widening. "It's... perfectly within your right. And the, uh, the party looks great. You did a great job."

"Wasn't great without you here," you beam, delighting as he only turns redder and hides his face in his sleeve. "You wanna... you wanna drink? Pretty boy?"

"Pr..." Shuichi gapes like a fish out of water; the soft apples of his cheeks match the scarlet of his drooping Santa hat. "Wha, um, you—?"

"Drink!" You take his sleeve and tug him over to the table laden with drinks. A lot of the eggnog has gone but there's a couple of frosted glasses left, as well as backup bottles of spirits and chasers. A collection of stained-glass shotglasses has piled up on the side, mostly courtesy of Miu, Kaito and Kaede, but you know Shuichi has a sweet tooth and probably wouldn't be fond of any of the flavoured vodka, or tequila or anything else on offer. So it's eggnog, lukewarm and sweet with only an aftertang of brandy.

"Thank you," Shuichi smiles, holding the glass up nervously. "Eggnog?"

"Homemade, baby," you flash a grin, endeared as he blinks rapidly and ducks his head to take a deep drink in his fluster. He drains half the glass in a few anxious sips, wiping his mouth absently with the back of his hand afterwards. Sweet creamy froth streaks a line down the pale skin.

"Shot," you announce, staggering over to the table and fumbling for a glass. "'M doing a shot. Want one?"

"Oh... I'm not sure," Shuichi stammers. "I don't really like..."

"Just tip your head back and breathe in," you advise, pouring vanilla vodka clumsily into two pink shotglasses. "You can't even taste it."

You both clink your glasses together and down the liquid; it burns going down but it's sweet, and even though Shuichi coughs a little and rubs his chest you can tell he doesn't hate it. He drains his eggnog mug and you can see a film slide over his eyes, a sort of dreamy distance. He's always been a lightweight because he drinks once in a blue moon and rarely eats enough to sustain himself. He giggles as he sets the glass down.

"C'mon, okay—" You grab at him, clumsy hands missing, sliding over his shirt (god, he'd shed his jacket and tie and unbuttoned two buttons at his throat and jesus he'd rolled up his sleeves, the pale jut of his elbows poking out) before managing to get a grip on his hand and pulling him back towards the parlour room. "Let's go... say hi to people! People wanna see you!"

"Th-they do?" Shuichi says, bewildered and a little hazy as you drag him through the door; the lights recede into soft, burnished gold and red fairylights on the walls and Christmas tree and the music envelopes you both.

"'Course!" you exclaim happily. "Eeeeveryone loves you, Sweetchi. 'Specially me."

He trips over his own feet. "Wh—wha—?!"

"Kaedeeee!" you trill, staggering into the blonde with a crash and a smile. Maki edges away, looking put out as Kaede cheers and throws her arms first around you, then Shuichi, kissing his cheek frantically as they pull back.

"You came! I'm so glad!" she grins. "Are you drunk, mister detective?"

"N-no!" Shuichi says defensively, swaying a little on his feet. "I'm not... tell her, Y/n."

"Mister detective's on his night off," you wink, and Shuichi groans and buries his face in his hands as Kaede giggles feverishly.

"Well, you two have fun! I'm not leaving 'till later, so you can come find me if you need me, okay?" Kaede smiles; she pats Shuichi on the head again before you're tugging him over to a new group of people.

You make the rounds of the room slowly. Halfway through he lets you pass him another eggnog and by the time you go back to the kitchen he's stumbling like a baby deer, clinging onto the back of your shirt with fumbling fingers. When you get to the table and stop he crashes into your back, sending you stumbling forwards with a laugh.

He rights himself frantically, trying to pull you upright. "S-sorry! Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean, sorry..."

He's bright and flushed with earnestness. He's adorable.

"'S okay, Sweetchi," you mumble, turning around to pat his face. He's tipsy and sleepy enough to simply sigh and melt into the touch, his eyes big and starry as they watch you. You feel so close, the music melting out of focus, all you can hear is your heartbeat and all you can feel and see and touch is Shuichi, Shuichi, Shuichi.

"I," he whispers, his lips tracing against the skin of your palm. "I was... really happy you invited me."

"'Course," you say emphatically. "'Course I did. You're... I love you, Shuichi. 'Course I invited you."

"You love me?" he breathes, eyes round as coins. He's flushed to the roots of his hair, so lovely it hurts.

"Love you," you affirm in a slur, in a flutter of lidded eyes, but it doesn't mean that you mean it any less. "Sh-Shuichi, I..."

"Get a fuckin' room, lovebirds!" A screech cuts through the quiet kitchen; Miu slumps in the doorway, Kiibo and Kokichi hovering behind her. She marches up to the table and swipes a bottle of wine. "I'm ffffuckin' takin' this, you virgin losers. Clearly you don't need any kinda aphrodisiac enhancer here, ah-hahaha!"

"I'll take that." Kiibo gently pries the bottle from Miu's hands, even as she groans and complains. "Ah, sorry about her. We're going to get her home and to bed, I think."

"Kiiiinky," Miu sings, cackling, then slumps sideways. Kokichi catches her easily with an arm under her own, hoists her to her feet, and cringes.

"You stink," he sighs. "I mean, this is a new level of gross. Did you bathe in pickles and oil, you silly cow?"

"C-cow!" Miu's crystalline eyes flood with tears. "H-how mean... do it again!"

"Sorry," Kiibo apologises again. "Thank you very much for having us, Y/n, it's been great. We'll see you after Christmas break."

"Get back safe," you tell him, affording him a quick hug. You peck Miu on the cheek and ruffle Kokichi's hair as he squirms and ducks.

"Pervert," he mutters with no real bite. As he and Kiibo haul Miu from the kitchen, he turns around with a glint in his eyes, smirks, and tells you, "Oh, by the way... definitely don't look up right now."

You frown, and then do exactly that.

Mistletoe bears down at you, twinkling, innocent, deadly. You gape, and Shuichi sputters, going violently red.

"I don't... I mean," he stammers. "We, I mean, we don't have t-to..."

You cock your head. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, pumping syrup through your body and head and you can see clearly but at the same time it's shrouded. A small part of you protests, thinks, don't fuck this up. He's too special. Don't don't dont...

"D'you want to?" asks your traitorous mouth, and the world stops spinning.

"W-want..." He looks torn, agonised, almost, but he's red and lovely and red so you don't pull away you just have to get closer, 'till you can smell the eggnog and vanilla vodka on his breath, and it feels like holding your whole friendship on a precipice of a cliff but you're done being selfless. You just want to take for once. "I... Y/n, I..."

"I want to," you mumble, and brush your thumb against his lip. The alcohol takes most of the feeling from your fingertips, but you can watch him go cross-eyed trying to follow your touch, watch the pink on his cheeks get redder.

"I—I do," Shuichi whispers, barely there, breath brushing against your finger. "When you said... you loved me, did you mean, or, I mean—"

"I love you," you murmur, so close that your lips touch his when you talk. His body melts into you, hands drifting up to close over your upper arms. "Is that okay?"

He nods frantically, eyes wide and earnest. "It's okay," he babbles, "I mean, it's more, it's good, because I—I think I love you too but I couldn't, I mean I couldn't say it but you're amazing, and you saved my life I think and I just, I love you so much and I didn't want to ruin it, but I just—"

You lean down; your lips capture his in a slow cling, soft and fleeting and it's the first thing since the first drop of alcohol touched your lips tonight that's felt real. You smell standard cologne and coconut body wash and ink, and his soft fingers clench over your arm for a fraction of a second until he relaxes, melting into you, sinking into the embrace. You pull back, kiss him again, and again, and then you tilt your head just a little so you can push deeper, tasting the remnants of his drink on his lower lip.

It lasts forever or maybe a second. When you pull back the clock has ticked to a minute past midnight, which means it is technically the next day and Shuichi is still in your arms trembling and breathing fast and smiling like a giddy boy, which means this is real and not a dream.

"I'm," Shuichi hiccups, and shuts his eyes with a bashful smile. "I really am glad you invited me."

You smile. "I'm glad I invited you too," you say, and the mistletoe stays up for a month or so after that because you can't quite bring yourself to take it down.

[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter eight

“okay,” michael begins, his approach is fast in contrast to the car that now has to obey–safe–city laws as it drives through rifle, colorado.

“so considering we don’t actually know each other that well, how about twen’ny one questions?” he asks, making a turn onto another street. you look at him quizzically, “twenty one questions?”

“you can’t be that clueless?” michael’s eyebrows furrow, “seriously?” you shrug, “i’ve never played it, remember i suffer from amnesia and chained to my house!”

you hold your wrists together in the air to imitate being shackled, “remember?”

he rolls his eyes, “okay, uh it’s just where you ask questions about the other.”

you nod, “i know, i was messing with you.” you look away, a hint of a smile on your face while michael scoffs, “look at that, we have a comedian on our hands.”

it goes quiet between you both as the two of you look at each other from the corner of your eyes. whatever song that was playing faded out and on cue, your stomach rumbled.

you gasp and hold your stomach while michael’s mouth twitches as he tries to hold back his laughter. you listen with embarrassment as michael’s throat crackles and bursts after numerous attempts to keep his giggles in.

wincing, you stare at him through your lashes until his laugh becomes contagious. you join in, a chorus of chortles overpowering the music in the vehicle.

“should’ve asked for something at the gas station,” michael scolds, jokingly as a few final giggles slip and he wipes a tear from his squinted eyes.

“ask me a question,” you demand, trying to get michael to forget about your hunger but your sickly sweet tone doesn’t have the harshness for it to really be a harsh commandment. michael hums in thought. his tongue clicks, “you have any pets?”

you shake your head and michael can see your hair move with your motions, “no, dad says they’re too expensive.”

“he’s not wrong,” michael murmurs, stretching his mouth as he reminisces all the times he’s needed to chip in on pet bills or food in general, “i have a cat, lovely girl but very codependent. when it suits her anyway.”

you chuckle, “i’ve always wanted a cat, i see them on the streets all the time back at home.”

“okay, okay my turn,” you suddenly burst, “what’s… what’s your favourite colour?”

michael taps his thumb on the wheel, “maybe orange or purple. they just happen to be nice, y’know? how about you, what’s yours?”

you hum, “maybe.. i like blue. my dad let me paint my bedroom ceiling and at first it was just baby blue, but then i saw a painting of cherubs for sale on an advert on tv and i decided i’d paint them on my ceiling too!”

“yeah? you must be quite the artist,” michael analyses you with a fond smile.

you shrug, “i have a lot of spare time on my hands. i did get carried away though, he came home to find all my furniture in the middle of my room while i painted the walls… so now i just have cherubs playing in clouds all around my room.”

“was he mad?” michael asks, the tiniest hint of concern in his voice. you shake your head, “no, he liked it but there wasn’t any paints left when i was done.”

“what’s school like?” your question catches michael off guard. what is school like? “well, it has its ups and downs, i guess.”

“it’s just diversity. different age groups, people look different, talk different. you make friends and enemies.”

but michael’s lying. he hasn’t gone to school since he was fourteen.

“really? how long have you been in school for?” you ask, fully intrigued in the life you don’t have. michael hums, “a while, i left school this year.”

if he stayed in school, he would’ve left this summer. but michael’s been homeschooled since 1984 because school became too much for him. how the tables have turned on him.

“but i was barely at school anyway, i preferred to work,” michael dashes a hint of truth into his statement because it looks like you have a good and easy perspective of life outside of your home and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

“oh..” you look down in thought, “i don’t remember going to school, i sometimes think about what my friends think? if i even had friends before.”

michael makes a ‘psh’ sound, “school isn’t that interesting, nothing to fret over missing to be honest. it’s one massive cliche, mean girls, bad boys, nerds and jocks. really, you aren’t missing out.”

michael’s lie is slipping as he rants with passion about the reality of school because he’s experienced it, been on the recieving and giving end.

“my dad homeschooled me when he could,” you noted, “which was hardly ever, but he left me books to read on the kitchen table and then he’d come home late in the evening and ask me about them to see if i read them.”

“that’s effective if you think about it,” michael theorised, “if he didn’t do that, you wouldn’t have a single smart thought in that noggin of yours.”

michael reaches over and taps your forehead, pressing down and jutting his finger for a second before pulling it away and switching the gear on the gear stick.

“yeah, i guess so..” you agree. you look out the window, admiring the mountainous terrain surrounding the town you were currently riding through.

michael asks another question, but you don’t hear it. you’re too busy looking at the clouds that sit on the mountains like a hat. you giggle, spotting how they form to make different images, “that one looks like a fish.”

he stares at you as the car comes to a stop. you feel it, it breaks you out of your imagination, “why’d we stop?”

michael points to the store he stopped outside of, “i’m hungry, you coming in?”

you nod and wait for michael to leave the car first before you do yourself. your legs feel like jelly after sleeping and sitting in the car for nearly eight hours. michael seems unaffected but he notices your sluggishness.

he chuckles, “stiff?”

“yeah, i think i have pins and needles,” you frown and hobble your way over to michael, who waits for you on the pavement. he holds his arm out and you hook your inner elbow around his, “thanks.”

“no biggie,” michael smiles and walks you into the store. you’re met with cool air and the scent of an old carpet. the two of you look at the drinks in the fridges and you shiver, goosebumps run along your exposed arms, “it’s cold.”

“i noticed,” michael notes as he lifts his sunglasses and settles them in his hair. his eyes are blue, bright blue. the sun shines through the window to his left and it peaks at you through the irises of michael’s eyes. you don’t notice how michael reaches for a can of coke.

“pick a drink, i’ll go get snacks,” michael suggested, unlinking your arms and soon, you are left alone. you fiddle with your skirt as you look at all there was to offer. you know your legs are also affected by goosebumps under the thin fabric.

you make eye contact with the glass bottle of sprite and you reach for it. it freezes your palm but you continue to hold it. it’s refreshing, especially in this heat. finished with your task, you go down the aisle michael did to find him hauling a pile of junk food in his arms.

you chuckle as he struggles, “do you need help?” you ask stepping closer to michael as he grunts. he looks at you and smiles, “it would be much appreciated.”

you take three family packs of chips off the top of the pile and his can of coke, “good?”

michael nods, “good. thanks.”

you’ve noticed how well-mannered michael is. he breaks the typical teenage boy stereotype. you’ve watched grease enough times to know that he doesn’t fit the description.

michael has a certain way of words, he doesn’t know exactly what to say. you know because he has been insensitive sometimes, but you’re getting used to it because you know that he’s not rude on purpose. he’s charismatic, like his dad. when you first met michael, he was kind to you and offered services to a complete stranger which is why you’re both here now.

he welcomed you because he’d never seen you before, michael wanted you to feel comfortable because he noticed. he’s a pure soul. you admire and look up to him.

like a guide, or guardian angel–there’s really no difference with michael–he eased your readmission into a once familiar society, helped you every step of the way during such a stressful time. you don’t think you could be more thankful.

you follow him to the checkout counter and slide your portion alongside michael’s as he pulls out some cash from his back pocket. the man tells him the price and michael gives him a ten dollar bill, recieving one dollar and forty five scents in change.

a bag was offered to you two and you accept, stuffing the plastic with as much as you can but even michael has to hold larger items that didn’t fit. you both thank the man and pick up your halves. walking away, michael looks at you, “we should continue our game of twenty one questions.”

you nod and readjust your hold on the bag you have when you notice the handle digging into the base of your fingers. michael kicks the door open with his foot and the bell chimes to signal that people were leaving.

“okay, what’s your favourite food?” michael asks as he tightens his hold of the snacks in one arm to fish out his car keys from his jacket pocket. you hum, looking down and watching your steps as you walk across the car park.

“maybe the pizza at freddy’s,” you confess with a fond smile but when you finally look up at michael to ask him his favourite food, he has this grossed out look on his face that makes your own scrunch up.

“what?” you ask with a sad and confused frown. michael exaggerates and gags, “those greasy things?”

he points to his mouth and sticks his tongue out, gagging again, “yuck..”

you nudge him, “there’s nothing wrong with them..” you’re so confused. michael’s lip twitches, “the only people who enjoy those pizzas are people with burnt tongues.”

“my tongue isn’t burnt,” you tilt your head and, once again, is confused by his vague term of expression. you hear the car unlock and the back door closest to you open. you watch as michael puts his share inside and you do the same.

“i’m ninety-nine percent sure that the cheese is plastic,” michael dramatises. another trait that you’ve picked up on is that michael exaggerates things often when he really dislikes or really likes something.

“don’t be dramatic..” you round the car and get into your side. michael is already in the car by the time you even get there. he twists the key and the engine starts, “what’s your favourite then?”

michael smiles, puffing his chest out, “my ma’s lasagne!” he’s awfully proud of the statement and you’re happy for him.

“i don’t have a ma,” you point out, your comment unnecessary and nonchalant. michael coughs, “oh..”

“we should probably work on your awkward.. er, comments,” michael suggests and your brows twist, “i don’t think i’m awkward.”

“you are seriously awkward,” michael mirrors your expression and you apologise. you don’t view the silence as uncomfortable but michael does and he clears his throat. you’re thinking of how to rekindle the conversation.

“uh.. oh! lasagne’s nice,” you comment and he agrees, “glad you have some taste to you.”

his smile appears again and you feel warmth bloom in your chest. he approves of your opinion and it matters a lot to you.

“what’s your favourite song?” you ask, hoping to start another round. michael doesn’t take time to think, instantly answering with, “let’s dance by david bowie.”

your lips thin, “david.. bowie?”

“please don’t tell me you don’t like bowie…” michael pleaded and you held your hand out, “wait, wait, wait. it’s not that i don’t like david bowie, it’s my dad that doesn’t.”

“i’m not allowed to listen to him so i don’t know if i like david bowie or not.”

you were so.. casual about this. michael was seriously passionate about things he strongly liked, loved. he loved david bowie. it really would not be dramatic to say he was appalled.

michael’s jaw dropped, “if i had known about that, this trip would’ve had a slim chance of happening..” then he realises what he said and takes a good look at you to monitor your expression, “joking, of course.”

his chest sinks with a deep exhale when you chuckle, “i get it, don’t worry.”

“good,” michael says, reaching for the stack of cds and goes through them until he finds one. while he takes it out of the case and slips it in, he speaks, “since you have never listened to bowie, i can introduce you to him.”

michael drives out of the car park, singing to the intro. his right hand bangs the steering wheel on beat while the left steers out onto the street.

you’re sat stiffly in your half of the car, listening to the song that michael treated as karaoke. it wasn’t bad, honestly. it wasn’t like what you usually preferred, but you really didn’t get why your dad hated bowie so much.

your head tilts from side to side with the beat as you finally feel the rhythm. michael’s a good singer, you realise. this song doesn’t require fancy vocals or anything big, but he’s quite in tune and blends in well.

you can hardly tell the difference.

turning your head, you see michael dancing in his seat and singing. he’s passionate. his hips sway not stiffly but more rigid in a way it looks good. his chest moves to the opposite side of his waist and his arms jerk above the wheel.

you smile, “this song is good!”

instead of responding, michael turns to you and squeezes your cheeks together. your lips jut out, all pouty and plump while michael leans in. not close, but not far either.

he sings at you, eyes squinted nearly shut, “if you say run, i'll run with you..” he takes a breath, “and if you say hide, we'll hide!”

michael sings the adlibs. you feel your cheeks warm up, possibly heating michael’s hand but if he notices, he doesn’t say anything, “because my love for you would break my heart in two.”

he pulls away, pushing your face away gently. michael mindlessly soothes the thumb mark he spots on your cheek, looking away but his hand remained.

“if you should fall, into my arms and tremble like a flower!” when bowie sings ‘flower,’ michael takes his hand away and lifts his arm like freddy mercury did at the live aid concert in ‘85.

you remember watching it on tv.

you still feel the phantom ghost of michael’s strong yet soft grip on your face and it’s all you think about for a while. you’re feeling something unfamiliar, but you’re not against it. it’s warm and fuzzy and your heart pumps twice every second.

by the time the full cd finishes, you and michael arrive at your motel in arrowhead. michael checks you both in with a room with two single beds on the second floor.

“you can shower first, i can put together a meal with what we have..” michael offers, looking at the disastrous bag of snacks that he placed on the small table in the corner.

you thank michael, dropping your bag onto the bed as an act of claiming. you silently move into the bathroom, examining its condition. you expected it to be sort of gross but the walls were spotless and the towels were soft; new.

the sink was built into a counter and the mirror had a light above it. you smiled at your reflection. your hair was messy from the wind coming through the window at such high speed. you’ve looked like this all day.

it’s different from your usual ‘put-together’ self, and you like it.

you twist the knob, waiting for hot water to filter through the cold. while you do that, you take your clothes off. you don’t shiver, it’s hot enough to walk around like this.

when you step in, it’s bliss. you find that mixing hot with hot neutralises your body temperature. you sigh, feeling droplets of water soaked up by your hair drip down your temples. it’s comforting, a reminder of home.

you don’t stay in there long, however, you just relax, wash, rinse and get out.

you pick up the grey towel, swiping it up and down your limbs until they’re dry. you step into the room, your towel wrapped tightly around you, “bathroom’s free.”

michael turns around in his spot on the armchair, eyeing your form in the open doorway. his arms fall off the back of the chair as you head soundlessly to. the bed closest to the door, digging through your bag that was left on your bed.

he finally gets up, pausing the movie he was watching. michael breezes past you without a word, the bathroom door shutting behind him.

considering the weather, you pull out one of your shorter nightgowns and slip it on. you dig for a flimsy pair of shorts to accompany it, just in case.

you find a book so by the time michael is out of the shower, you’re through the first chapter. when he comes out, you don’t look up but you see his figure whisk past the bed and back into the bathroom.

only when he comes back out the second time do you look away from your book. you laugh, tossing your head back and michael has an offended expression. he knows you’re laughing at him.

“what?” his arms are crossed and you can’t help but giggle more. he’s so serious but he looks so silly. michael, in all his glory, is stood infront of you in a red robe and a blue pyjama set.

“it’s too hot for the robe,” you state with a smile, looking at his brown slippers. this is something your dad would wear.

michael shrugs, “utah is way hotter than colorado, it’s cold.”

“really? i’m boiling..” you told him but he sat down, shrugging as he says, “that’s too bad, i’m freezing!” and ending the conversation. you went back to your book, starting chapter two.

after a while, maybe an hour, you check the clock on the wall. nearly eight o’clock.. you turn to michael, he’s draped over the armchair, feet propped up on the sides and he snacks on a large pack of chips.

he’s watching something. its interesting but you don’t know the name, so you go over.

“what are you watching?”

michael is visibly startled, shuffling up the small chair.

“oh, erm,” he stops to think, staring absentmindedly at the tv, “ricco.. uh, the mean machine.”

“can i watch it with you?” you ask, already sitting down on the floor infront of the chair. you see the remaining snacks piling out of the bag and reach for them.

“i don’t see why not,” michael allows you to watch with him and it’s quiet apart from the tv and the rustling of wrappers. he can’t help but notice how you shuffle every now and then and he soon realises that you’re trying to get comfortable.

“hey, do you wanna swap spots?” he’s in a thoughtful, generous mood right now and he enjoys the look in your tired eyes. they light up as if to say how did you know? and you nod. after standing up, you watch michael swing his legs onto the floor and soon he’s towering over you.

“thank you,” you grace as you settle down into the arm chair, curling in on yourself against the arm. michael smiles at you, replacing you on the floor, “it’s no problem.”

once again, it’s silent between you two until the end of the movie. michael expects to hear something from you, however he finally notices your tiny snores once the tape finishes. he chuckles fondly, finding it amusing how your arms are holding onto your bent knees but your head is tilted to the side.

michael walks past, pulling the duvet from his bed off and heading back over. draping the heavy fabric over you, michael doesn’t miss the hum you let out and how you nuzzle into the warmth you’re brought. he lets himself stare for just a second longer before he digs through the stack of leftover tapes for a final movie prior to when he’ll go to bed.

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 3C, MATCH 3 OUT OF 4!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Saki:

Psychic goth girl who was cast as Cinderella in a school play. The play was so poorly cast overall that the entire script had to be rewritten, thus “Cinderella-ish” was born. Hanajima played a Cinderella dressed in all black, and when confronted by the fairy godmother, she simply wished for meat.

idk if this is what you meant by 'acting' as Cinderella but in-universe she got cast as Cinderella in the school play, and the characters ended up re-writing the entire play to work around her because she was too Goth and disinterested to play a classic Cinderella character.

She plays the best version of Cinderella. All she cared about was going to the ball for the barbecue. The episode she's in is a really good one as well.

Overall Saki is not a Cinderella character, but you did say we could submit them if they were Cinderella in an in-universe play, and that she was! In Season 2 Episode 23 "It's Cinderella-ish", her class puts on a production of Cinderella and she ends up getting cast as the titular role, which a lot of other characters think is crazy because she's this straight-faced, emotionally-repressed, exclusively-wears-black kinda girl. Also her best friend Tohru (the anime's protagonist) gets cast as an evil stepsister, and she's one of the sweetest people ever and has so much trouble being mean to Saki even fakely and vice versa. Of course, Saki has no problems being rude to the Prince Charming character in the play, played by Kyo, a guy who's sweet deep down (but only to Tohru and his adoptive father) but is other wise a hot head who's always getting into fights. So between Saki as Cinderella having a genuine love for her stepsister and a general animosity with the prince, in addition to the fact that when she goes to the ball, all she wants to do is eat, not mingle, she makes for a very interesting Cinderella.

so this shoujo series has a storyline where the class puts on a Cinderella play but instead of the heroine playing Cinderella, shenanigans happen that lead to the heroine's goth best friend, Saki Hanajima, aka Hana-chan, aka Demon Queen, playing the lead role. Hana-chan's Cinderella dresses in all black against the wishes of the play's director, does not give 2 shits about the prince, and is just a general menace to society. I know she's probably not gonna win but I just wanted to share her with all of you bc I love her and the Cinderella-ish arc is to this day some of the funniest shit I've seen in a manga

their high school class decided to randomize who played which characters in their production of Cinderella & the creepy goth girl got cast as Cinderella & her painfully kind-hearted bestie got cast as the evil stepsister (among other mismatched roles) so they rewrote the play into "Sorta Cinderella" & Cinderella became a deadpan, lazy girl who only wants the best for her darling step-sister & who only went to the ball for the food.  in the end, instead of marrying the prince she takes his money & opens a restaurant with her sister & I love that for them <3

Cendrillon:

[Mod's Note: Warning for Persona 5 spoilers]

Her Persona is Cinderella. Her story is about disguising herself as another person to gain acceptance.

Her persona is Cendrillon, the French name for Cinderella and the name of an opera based on the story, and it mirrors her arc in the game. When you boil her down to the essentials, she essentially made a wish that was granted by her....... fairy godtherapist to go from pauper (bland and talentless depressed Sumire) to princess (her dead sister Kasumi, bubbly, personable star gymnast). As far as she sees it, even, it's this transformation that helps her 'get the prince' (read: befriend the protagonist). Why should she win, though? Umm because she's my baby my angel my sweetie my cherub specialist character in fiction and most important girl in the universe. Out of love in your heart for me, tumblr user [REDACTED], vote for her.

GOD I LOVE HER SO MUCH ok ok ok everyone here's my autism. Major spoilers as you get closer to the end btw! - She has three personas, in order they go: Cendrion, Vanadis, Ella. The first and last are taken from Cinderella, with Cendrion being the german name for Cinderella, and of course Ella just being a shortened form of Cinderella. - She does gymnastics, although a lot of her phantom thief design is heavily based off of ballet as well! In particular the black swan mimicking the white swan, and while of course that's not cinderella, it does remind me of how Cinderella was treated in the beginnings of the story - Cinderella and her both have major sibling trauma! It's a huge point about her character. Major spoilers, but she pretends to be her older sister Kasumi for most of the game; the sad truth is that she's in fact the younger sister Sumire. She's pretending to be her older sister because she can't deal with the trauma of that day she ran out into traffic and her sister got hit instead of her. (It does not help that her therapist uses eldritch god powers to gaslight her into thinking she is her sister.) - They're both pretty and also I love sumi so much she's everything to me. unironically the character of all time NOT FOR PROPAGANDA but for mod: image because it can be awkward to find one: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UyOsg26GnZU/maxresdefault.jpg also!!!! if you're interested in not potentially spoiling people you should call her Kasumi Yoshizawa. If you aren't worried about that though and want to be accurate, Sumire Yoshizawa is better. Or just call her Violet because that's her codename!

Initially introduced as Kasumi, she is a dorky and sweet first-year student who looks up to the protagonist as a mentor and eventually joins the Phantom Thieves in figuring out the fake reality they're trapped in. However, it's revealed that she's actually Kasumi's sister Sumire, who was always stuck in her more talented sister's shadow and yearned to be Kasumi. Unfortunately, she got her wish when her sister died saving her and her therapist brainwashed her into believing herself to be Kasumi. With help from the protagonist, Sumire realizes she was holding herself back and breaks free from her false identity, embracing her true self and rebelling against the hollow utopia. Her initial Persona--an embodiment of her true self--is Cendrillon, and her third tier ultimate Persona is Ella.

Sumire dosen't just pretends to be her dead sister, she was brainwashed into believing to be her by the final act's main villain/her fairy godfather figure, because that was her (misguided by trauma) wish as she believed that her sister was better than her. The final acts has a lot of 'making wishes come true' theme that connects her to Cinderella even more, also she does have a bit of 'save by the prince' thing going on with the game's protagonist

Please please vote my girl!!

Sumire is such a cute and cool character and deserves to leave the life of cinders how the fandom treats her and be a shiny princess!!

[leebrontide]

There’s no getting around how schmalzy this is so I’ll just have to embrace that.

In the summer my daughter goes to bed when the sun is still up. And seeing her sweet cherubic little face all tucked in cozy and content with the last of the sunlight on her cheeks has become one of my favorite things about summer.

I won’t have this every summer. But for now it’s such a treasure.

[bluezey]

Redeemed Alastor

I know it's never gonna happen. Nearly impossible. That guy is thriving way too much in hell

But I'm having way too much fun than I thought with the idea!

So it all started with me trying to do it as a cosplay. I updated the P2 outfit, because I can't make clothes, but I think the redeemed Alastor outfit would be more white and gold colored. But I got the right antlers, gold deer antlers that curl up to resemble a halo. I don't see him having wings though, and he would have his microphone cane still, I just couldn't find one. I also think my brass lion's head handled cane is pretty cool. Oh, brass would be a good color for redeemed Alastor too, like bronze and copper. Would sepia be a bit much? Anyway, and yes, he embraces the tail now, but no touching

And for fun, I made a few headcanons. But then, I made so much, and had so many, I may have made an AU character 😅

Below is a list of ideas I made up for the character. Feel free to ask any, I'll try to answer, and maybe even add it to the list. I maaaaaay be open to role plays, it's just that I haven't rped in a looooong time

He still goes by Alastor, but goes by prodigal demon. This is to show even he can be redeemed, and radio angel didn't have a good ring to it

He has earned angelic powers to replace his voodoo powers. He can still do voodoo, he just chooses not to use it because it's frowned upon in heaven. He misses using voodoo, the temptation is still there, and if in a bind, he may instinctually use it

He still got to keep his sentient shadow, and while Alastor didn't get wings, his shadow got tiny little cherub wings for aesthetics. His shadow still has his rebellious streak, and sometimes even tempts Alastor to do something rebellious like use voodoo

Alastor still has the power to make deals, he rarely does it now, and refrains from making ones that include owning people's souls

Alastor tries to be peaceful and pacifist, but if poked enough times, he'll attack

He still has the radio filter and the smile, but in times when he's deadly serious, he drops both

He now shows off the deer tail, but doesn't like people touching it

As well as being asexual, he now takes up celibacy

He had to give up cannibalism, which sucks, but he can still eat raw deer. The temptation to eat human still exists

Alastor does say redemption was worth it, but admits heaven has a few flaws such as some hypocrisy and the popularity of sweet foods and drinks, but at least spicy foods, raw deer, and rye and whiskey exist up there, as well as radios and jazz clubs, despite jazz being niche compared to gospel and rock

It is currently unknown as to why Alastor got redeemed. It is also unknown if Alastor chose to, or if it just happened. Only clues is the few things Alastor did to become redeemed, such as giving up cannibalism, using voodoo less and less, only killing for food or self defense, and even nullifying the deals where he owned souls

While many of his deals are void, and his owned souls are now freed, some deals still remain in effect. He has made a few deals after redemption, but they are few and far between, in part because he can't make deals that are hurtful or own souls

He can return to hell to visit, and does so to check on Charlie and the hotel

[perfectisgeorgette]

Disco Margaritas -playlist

Georgette to Mim @madmagicmim

Disco margs a playlist for: that feeling when you take a sip of your first drink out with your closest friends, a cracking of a seltzer at a family gathering during the summer, dancing in the kitchen with your closest girls to an ABBA song on a Saturday night. A lifestyle, a moment, making memories, and shutting down all the silly bullshit.

🪩 Houdini (Adam Port mix) - Dua Lipa, Adam Port

Maybe you could be the one to make me stay. There isnt a single Dua Lipa song that isn’t an absolute bop. Even if they don’t admit it every girl dreams about a guy who can finally measure up and make her stay. No houdini act over here - not this time.

🪩 Stay High - Diplo, HUGEL, Julia Church

Staying in my play pretend; where the fun ain’t got no end. A remix of a Tove Lo song from 2014. If there is one thing that keeps past relationships no matter the kind at bay it’s a good song. No need to get to a higher level when this song is just as good.

🪩 Milkshake 20 (Alex Wann Remix) - Kelis, Alex Wann

Damn right it’s better than yours. The old banger from elementary school is still a hit. With a cool dance vibe it’s nothing like owning your own self confidence about what you’ve got! Can’t sing it without feeling yourself a bit. Confidence baby!

🪩 Teenage Crime - Adrian Lux

We don’t sleep when the sun goes down. This song just pulls you right to a bestie moment. Let it be when you were young and having a sleep over doing prank calls or staying out late causing a ruckus. It’s moments like that that tie to songs forever.

🪩 Like That - Seamus D

Argue, you yell, but you take me back. This song puts you back with your first love. The fairy tale of it all. Even if you don’t want to be whisked away there always that feeling of addiction when you’re with the one you first loved. You may not need to wish to take them back or to even find them but it isnt illegal to think about it.

🪩 Heaven Takes You Home (ft Connie Constance) - Swedish House Mafia, Connie Constance

Show 'em how the struggle made magic. There is something about a nice hug and that is what this song brings. There are many interpretations of the lyrics but when you get to the bottom of it its about people parting ways in some sense. Weather its good or bad it still feels like a good hug when you are going through a hard time.

🪩 Doses & Mimosas (Vintage Culture & Zerky remix) - Vintage Culture, Zerky, Cherub

Cryin' when you're by yourself 'Cause of what they think. Everyone loves a girl that is not afraid of consequences. Every girl has had the issues with feeling left out, bothered, or down - this songs is a big f you to them. Seeking the fun and high of a party is a a fictional ideal way to forget all about it...while dancing and vibing.

🪩 Love Runs Deep - Autograf, Tiina

You've been walking under dark clouds. Everyone has struggles and problems no matter who they are. This dong takes you from thinking about those problems and realizing that through love no matter the kind you can get through them. Just a feel good song to raise your mood no matter what the situation.

🪩 Waterloo - ABBA

The history book on the shelf is always repeating itself. This song may have its hidden meaning that everyone deciphers differently but that doesn't matter. This song alone can bring any mood from sour to sweet. Dancing and singing to this song in the shower, your car, the kitchen or with friends. Top 5 feel good songs.

🪩 Don’t Leave (Throttle remix) - Snakeships, MØ, Throttle

I'm a girl with a temper and heat. Own your true self. This song takes every quality of a fiery woman and puts it on the table. There is no reason to change who you are for someone and you are capable of being there for anyone no matter how hot you may be.

🪩 Sexual (Oliver Nelson Remix) - NEIKED, Dyo, Oliver Nelson

Now I caught you, I won't let you go. There is hidden meanings of this song but those are up to the listener to interpret. The song is just feel good and it is impossible to not vibe to. The song has been taken down a lot from streaming services but it definitely one to save.

Disco Margaritas is for the vibes darling. Love, Georgette

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 4 - Watermelon In Easter Hay

Summary: you get me. that’s why.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: chapter foooour! disclaimer: this one is quite tough, so be careful about the tw’s and look out for each other, guys <3 tough times always end and we come out the other way stronger than ever before.

tw: a lot of hurt. mentions of the thing that rhymes with kegs, brief mentions of drug abuse, addiction, brief hint at s*1c1de, description of panic attacks/trauma dissociation. comfort.

i promise that the next one will be so agressively fluffy you’ll drown in it.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Somehow, time suddenly started to pass quicker than usual, especially in the context of prolonged winter nights.

The number of oat milk lattes pressed was slowly rising into the low hundreds over the next three weeks, the lunch feasts weren’t as flashy as the first time - it was more of a lunch snack split between three people.

But Keeva didn’t mind.

I could get used to this.

The mantra played on a loop in her head when she got up each morning, the entire bike ride to the parking lot, the whole walk from there to the café.

She was so excited about getting used to this that despite her crippling insomnia, she began to arrive to work about half an hour before Jeff, who was a self-proclaimed morning bird.

She just couldn’t wait.

To get there and wipe the tables. To scribble the dailies on the menu blackboard. To hear Jeff’s adorable righteous fury when he started yapping about yesterday’s ball game - in fact, she was looking forward to learning all the details.

Most of all, though, to catch a flash of wild ruddy hair through the window and hear a knock on the door. See Stone shaking a paper bag in the air with a wide smile as she let him in, receiving a delightfully warm croissant and an even warmer hug.

“That, sir, is illegal. Do the higher-ups know that you’re nicking under their noses every day?”

“You said I’m a punk, I gotta protect my reputation.”

Still, the Christmas holidays couldn’t come fast enough. So, right after her last shift of the year, Keeva beelined to the laundromat to pick up her clothes as quickly as she could.

She stuffed the few pieces she had into her backpack and headed straight home. She was already running late to a meet-up with Stone back at Pioneer Square. It was the day of a long awaited holiday night-out.

When she got back to her apartment, she grinned as she rummaged a t-shirt out of the bag. It had a big Nets logo on the front. Jeff brought it to her yesterday, it still had a pleasant soapy scent.

“Don’t worry, it’s fresh from the laundry basket. It’s a bit big but it’ll do. Now that you’re starting to warm up to it, I have to sway you to the right team.”

“Jesus, Ames, you’re tasteless. Always with the propaganda. Let her form her own opinion.”

“You’re just mad that you didn’t get one.”

Keeva was giddy when she caught herself calling the unlikely duo ‘friends’ in her head.

I could get used to this.

She was whistling an Aerosmith song - another consequence of daily hanging out with Jeff - while she cuffed the baggy sleeves of her newly acquired NBA apparel.

Tightening the shoelaces of her combat boots, she softly cursed when she bent down - she felt a stab in her stomach. No lunch today.

It was the beginning of a holiday break, meaning all money goes to cheap beer and 3 AM Doghouse fries to-go.

And the rent was due.

No, asking him for another help-out isn’t an option. Not again. You won’t die if you only eat once a day for a week.

And besides, she was planning to return everyone’s hospitality by buying at least one round tonight.

The two of them had a rendezvous at the Off Ramp with Chris, Jeff and a couple of guys. A cherub-looking jester called Andy, who occasionally washed the dishes at the café, and Stone and Jeff’s sweet gangly bandmate, Bruce.

One thing she’d learned over her multiple visits to the Off Ramp - it was probably the worst excuse for a bar she’d ever seen.

The upside was that the music was impeccable and the alcohol was ID-free.

That was about it.

First of all, it was Stone’s money laundering headquarters. He lured in unassuming patrons to make bizarre bets with him while knowing the payoff like the back of his hand.

His favourite was guessing how many dead cockroaches there were next to the vodka shelf - it was usually between five and eight.

One of the most successful schemes so far was when he got a group of French girls to each bet a shot that Matt from Soundgarden would break a stick within the first song.

He broke two in the first thirty seconds.

Stone won four shots and Keeva mocked him for missing out on an ‘authentic French kiss’ when he turned his cheek as one of the girls went in for a passionate bonus prize.

Plus, only she knew that he’d sneaked backstage before the show to file a weak spot in four of Matt’s flimsy drumsticks - she was the one guarding the back room so no one would walk in on him.

Jeff, meanwhile, was an angel. Carefully watching everyone’s drinks so they wouldn’t get spiked, something that was sadly a common occurrence in the sweaty dim hell hole. Always ready to light anyone’s stick of choice. Rocking out to every song with identical enthusiasm, even if he’d heard it thirty times over.

But even the most joyous of companies couldn’t deny the fact that a certain degree of thick skin was needed to snake through the narrow corridors.

All the vomit stains and broken bottles on the carpeted floors sometimes called for nearly athletic skills.

There seemed to be a different kind of bodily fluid for every inch of the dancefloor. On top of that, it was all lousily enlightened by a disco ball that was threatening to fall apart at any moment.

If you wandered too close to the supposed kitchen, the stench was so pungent it must’ve caused at least one nosebleed over the years in service.

The women’s restrooms were desolate. There was more piss on the floor than in the actual toilet bowls, powder sprinkles of questionable origin were scattered around the sinks and the mirrors were broken, barely functional and always covered in lipstick stains and sweaty handprints.

And the guys that had - for obvious reasons - visited both, swore that the men’s room was far, far worse.

In other bars around Seattle, it wouldn’t be shocking to accidentally stumble upon some couple enjoying their date in a bathroom stall. Here, it was less common.

You were more likely to bump into them right in front of the restrooms, blocking the way in.

To spend a night out at the Ramp was a truly authentic pagan experience.

I could get used to this.

Keeva opted for leaving her bike at home and took in a deep breath of the frosty air as she strolled through the busy streets of Chinatown.

The sun was long gone and a fog settled over the roads, so she clutched her crochet bag closer and tried to warm up by folding her arms.

Andy, who was fronting another domestic band, had an enchanting voice and Bruce was already a solid third cog in a well-synergized string faction of Green River.

So the five of them were planning to jam as soon as possible.

But something always came up. Christmas was around the corner and everybody took more shifts at work to afford the luxuries of holidays.

That was twice as true for musicians - none of them simply had time to focus on music, hence her lack of session gigs. Her excitement was immeasurable, though.

To play with like-minded people, finally able to express herself however she wanted.

Unable to sustain a minute of peace, though, her brain always came up with pointless arguments.

Can I express myself, though? ‘Myself’ is not nearly good enough to keep up with them.

With him.

I wonder how he feels music. Does he hunch? Bop his head? Jump around or just sway?

Are his eyes closed? He seems like someone who would mouth along with his riffs. Nerd.

Can't really imagine how he touches the strings, though. Maybe he does a lot of slides.

Heavy and slow. Teasing.

That sounds like him.

“Look what the cat dragged in. Baby, do you own a watch? I’ve been waiting here for like fifteen minutes,” Stone muttered through chattering teeth when she finally arrived at their meeting spot, startling her out of her thoughts. “I’m pretty sure this is frozen solid, along with my balls.”

Keeva already recognized the paper bag he was clutching.

Her eyebrows knitted in confusion when he waved his wrist in front of her face to show her the time and then gave her a bone-crushing hug.

“God dammit, I forgot to wind it. Sorry,” she mumbled into his chest, a flaming blush prickling her icy ears.

The scent of fresh pastries and cinnamon still lingered on his sweatshirt.

“What’s the ruckus?” she let him go and immediately checked her watch to twist the little winding wheel.

“Huh? Oh, I was running late in the morning so I couldn’t stop by. I grabbed it on my way home at least, don’t wanna lose my stealing streak,” he shrugged as she took the bag from him and they both set off.

“Ah, you’re a saint, Stoney. I’m so hungry I could eat a fucking horse,” she breathed out puffs of fog.

“Ames and I were wondering where you got lost. Thought you had slipped on ice and fallen into a ditch,” she huffed. She struggled to keep up with his brisk tempo and munch on her cold cinnamon roll at the same time. “I had a cake in mind, you know, to bring to the hospital.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmpf. All pink with big chocolate letters on top,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food, waving her hand in the air to mime handwriting. “'Good riddance.'”

He scoffed, reluctantly chomping down when she offered him a bite.

“Slow down or you’ll choke. I don’t wanna spend the night with my hand down your throat,” he chuckled, slightly concerned by the sheer speed of her eating.

“You said you had a first-aid course, no? Time to put your money where your mouth is,” she muttered again and gulped down the last bite.

The Ramp was packed to the brim, but it wasn’t hard to find the colourful cast of friends, even in the dim orange light.

Chris and Bruce towered over the sea of people like long-haired maypoles, passing a joint to Jeff. He was wearing a bright purple hat with an orange bow - an extravagant wizard. And as they got closer, Andy, who was a lot shorter than the three of them, surprisingly stood out even more. Unmistakable with his furry white coat and bright red lipstick.

Stone, in his kaleidoscope vest, was holding her hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the crowd. Her fingers were still cold as ice, but somehow they warmed him down to the marrow of his bones.

Unbeknownst to her, his mind worked in similar patterns to hers.

I could get used to this.

● ● ● ● ● ●

“…they’ve been away for a month, so, obviously, I was salivating for all the details, shivering like a fucking Chihuahua. And then he just stepped out of his ugly station wagon, stinking like rotten eggs and with a bloody scratch on his cheek, like, this big,” Andy colourfully explained, raised his little finger to illustrate and continued.

“Gave me that fucking blank stare of his and asked me if I knew that Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.”

Keeva rolled her eyes and puffed out a laugh. Somehow, her conversation with Andy derailed to the story of Green River’s disasterous DIY tour.

“Jeez…what a sweet talker,” she scoffed, her grin growing wider when Andy’s baby blue eyes popped open as he vehemently nodded.

“And I was like…no?” he raised his knitted eyebrows and shook his head. “And he shrugged and went: ‘Well, Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.’ And didn’t say a word for the rest of the day.”

“Pfft, he just wanted to be mysterious,” Keeva snorted, taking a swig of her beer.

There seemed to be a pattern, though.

Observing him for the past month, she’d noticed that Stone sometimes switched into a completely different person. Especially when getting into specific topics.

Usually hard drugs, relationships and politics.

The sarcasm suddenly became borderline cruel, not playful. And his cool punky attitude felt stoic and alien.

“Had to question Ames afterwards, because Stoney just. wouldn’t. talk. about it. He just does that sometimes. Nomen est omen, I guess,” Andy chuckled, confirming her suspicion.

“Unresolved childhood trauma, maybe?” she shrugged and took a swig of her beer.

I recognize that one from a mile away.

“Nah, the Gossards are the sweetest sweethearts of all the sweethearts ever,” Andy shook his head. His chubby cheeks were flushed from the shots of tequila Stone had been supplying all night.

A bunch of tourists were in the house, which meant a fruitful playground.

“I think he was just born that way.”

“Heartless?” Keeva scoffed, her smile widening when she caught Stone giving her subtle thumbs up from the bar.

The bartender was already pouring another round. Stone grinned when she returned the gesture and then started wiping off a lipstick stain on his cheek with a slightly disgusted expression. Andy smirked.

“Composed,” he shrugged.

“Weeeell, a little detached.”

“…practical,” he added, biting his cheek to contain laughter. Keeva squinted at him and shook her head.

“Yeah, bullshit. I still smell trauma,” she mumbled, gulping down another sip.

A question was playing around her head for some time. And now seemed to be the perfect moment to ask.

Because if Stone was the resourceful little shit of the group, Andy was the all-knowing chatterbox.

“Did that guy ever manage to keep a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, once,” Andy replied, playing around with the squeezed slice of lime in his empty shot glass.

“There we fucking go! The enigma of Stone Gossard solved! Good job, my dear Watson,” Keeva slapped her thighs, raising her bottle to clink Andy’s empty glass. He giggled like a child. Different people had different reactions to her dry English attitude.

Jeff seemed to have an open mind despite clearly not getting it.

Chris usually gave her disarming smiles, probably taking it for a cute younger-sister quirk.

Stone was…well, Stone about it. Never missing a beat to shoot back at her like he had been deprived of an arguing partner for his whole life.

And Andy always rewarded her with the most angelic giggles she’d ever heard.

“…well? Spill the beans!” Keeva nudged him, leaning a bit closer on the bar table. Andy dismissively waved her off.

“Oh, I don’t like to gossip…” he nonchalantly shook his head.

They stared at each other with wide eyes before bursting into wild cackles, getting a few confused looks from people around them.

When Andy was done with his adorable snorts, he cleared his throat.

“Okay, so, way back in…’84 methinks. Her name was Tara, she was from Utah or Alabama or…whatever, who gives a shit. Anyway, very religious family, Mormons I think, you know how they do it down there,” he theatrically shivered with disgust and continued.

“However. Stoney’s brash mouth could seduce a fucking saint. I’ve heard it rumoured that she screamed for Jesus the first time he -“

“Woah, okay, okay, no, thanks. I get it, please spare me,” she scowled and plugged her ears.

She hoped that Andy wouldn’t notice the raging blush that rapidly filled her entire face, but he was very hard to fool.

“I know you wanna hear all of it -” he smirked, “- but very well. Anyway, he was completely smitten. Treated her so right, didn’t give her any of that shithead attitude.”

That sounds terrifying.

“All of a sudden like a lamb. It was terrifying.”

“Bet,” Keeva snorted and bit into the rim of her bottle to tame the growing smirk on her face. “And how was she?”

“Apparently, not bad,” he mused, giggling again when her eyes widened and she threateningly lunged forward.

“Sorry, sorry,” he raised his arm in defence and took a few seconds to compose himself. “Well, once he helped her out of her redneck shell, she was, uh, how do I put it…”

“A cool girl?” Keeva shrugged and took a swig.

“An insufferable bitch,” he deadpanned and the beer flew out of her nose. He gave her some time to wipe her mouth and continued in a slightly sombre tone.

“She cheated a whole lot, probably wanted to try out as much as she could, now that she’d realized that God can’t make her cum,” he explained, making her snort again.

Fucking hell. This clown. I love him.

The way the story was going, though, her enjoyment slowly faded.

“You know that he’s a tease. And sometimes girls mistake his sarcasm for flirting.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

"So she used to make out with people right in front of him just to make him jealous,” Andy scowled and she mirrored his expression.

“Oof. How long did that go on?” Keeva asked, not even sure if she wanted to hear the rest of the story.

Her gaze trailed off to Stone’s grin as he was handing a shot to Bruce a few feet away from them. Now, there was something behind his smile that she hadn’t noticed before.

“About a year and a half or something, on and off,” Andy’s voice snapped her back to the conversation. “Then she broke up with him and went back home. I bet she married her cousin or something.”

Keeva scoffed and shook her head. She wasn’t sure how to comment on it, so she let Andy finish his story, even though she regretted even asking for it.

“He was devastated after all that, barely talked for weeks. I think he secretly used to be a romantic, but she kinda sobered him up from that whole ‘soulmate’ thing. I don’t think he’s dated anyone else since,” he ended with a shrug, mindlessly biting into the lime he fished out of the shot glass.

It seemed like he was trying to lighten the mood, his face twisting into a scrunched grimace.

“A Greek tragedy, really,” she followed his suit, letting out a bleak chuckle.

Andy waved his hand and swallowed a few times to push the sourness down before continuing in a slightly slurry voice.

“No, seriously. It kinda makes me sad. Actually, I think I haven’t seen him kiss a girl since then, you know?”

And you dare to laugh at me, beanpole?

“Yeah, he flirts and sleeps around, but he never kisses anyone on the lips,” Andy added, shrugging. “Maybe it’s some kind of a self-defence mechanism, I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on behind that huge forehead of his.”

Oh.

“Like, he enjoys the one-night-stand-thrill or whatever but also doesn’t like it when girls touch him. And I mean touch as in this -” he reached out, patted Keeva’s shoulder and then rubbed her back. “-right?”

…yeah. But…

“Cringes at hugs and stuff, but once he’s enough inches away and certain that they're into it, he doesn’t have a problem with straight up telling them he wants to fuck their brains out,” Andy shook his head. “And somehow, it works. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even from the same planet.”

“I mean, that makes two of us, the hugging thing. But he does it whenever we meet anyway, so there’s a scoop for you,” Keeva tried to sound as careless as possible, kicking back the rest of her beer in one swell swoop.

“It’s different with you, you’re like his little Pooky bear,” Andy smirked, lacing his fingers under his chin. She snorted and raised her eyebrows.

“A what?”

“Pooky. You know Garfield, right? The comics?”

When Keeva shook her head with a curious smile, Andy gasped.

“What?! Sarcastic little shit of a cat who hates everyone but his teddy bear Pooky? And Pooky always pretends that he’s just a toy and then suddenly moves and rearranges stuff just to fuck with Garfield’s head?” he babbled, wildly gesturing.

“That sounds deranged. I love it,” she giggled, still unconvinced about the metaphor.

“Oh man, I grew up on that. I still have a stack of ‘em at home, I’ll borrow you some!” he enthusiastically grabbed her hand. “Then you’ll see why you’re Pooky.”

“I’d love that. And I truly admire that you make everything sound like a compliment,” Keeva grinned.

“It is,” Andy shot back, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. She scoffed.

“Pretty sure that just means he doesn’t view me as a potential fuck.”

He squinted and tipped his head to the side like a puppy.

“Yeeeeah, I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Just between us,” she interrupted him, “I’d admit that it hurts my ego, but I’m too vain. Guess I’m not his type.”

“Does he have a type? I haven’t noticed, maybe I’ve been around him for too long,” he chuckled, taking another pointless bite of the lime as if he was trying to suck out the last drops of tequila.

“Well, from what I’ve seen, they’re usually tall, sporty and sweet,” she counted on her fingers and then shrugged. “Then again, who’s type isn’t tall, sporty and sweet?”

Andy's toothy grin widened.

“Seems like your type is lanky, malnourished and sardonic.”

No.

“Yeah, no. I don’t - nope. Let’s cut this conversation before it starts, please,” she wiggled her finger at him, eyebrows knitted. His smile got even brighter.

“Why not, Pooky?” he pressed, grabbing her hand again. “You’re the only person I know who clicked with him without wanting to knock his teeth out first. And he’s into it.”

It sounds so easy when you say it.

“Because I don’t want to. And neither does he. I’m certain that we both like it just the way it is, trust me.”

Shit, he doesn’t trust me.

“You think I don’t know that you’re fucking on the side?” he exclaimed so loud Keeva had to bang her forehead against the bar table to hide her face from the people turning their heads.

“Jesus Christ, Andy! You’re disgusting,” she hissed when looked up, scowling.

His smile was omnipresent, though.

If Stone was the Roman statue, Andy was the Harlequin.

“Well, are you?”

“NO!”

“Not yet, you mean,” he raised his eyebrows, trying to contain another brewing giggle.

“Not yet, not tomorrow, not ever. Okay? I’m done with this topic, you clown, let’s move on,” Keeva reached out and softly pushed him.

Andy didn’t seem too keen on moving on, though, as his shoulders shook with a cackle.

“Have you ever stopped to think why he stares at your lips when you’re babbling? ‘Cause I have, Pooky,” he raised his index finger and tapped on her forehead to make the wrinkles between her eyebrows disappear.

All the other guys were on their way back to them, their laughs nearing Keeva’s ears as Andy whispered with a sly grin.

“It’s because you’re not his type.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“I think I need a shot of bleach,” Keeva’s raspy voice appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

She left the group to get a beer, but before she could push her way back through the crowd, everyone except Stone had already scattered around the bar again.

He was startled when she walked straight up to him and slammed her forehead against his chest.

Unprovoked touching? This is new. I could get used to this.

“What’s up?” Stone chuckled, hoping that the sound of his heartbeat would get drowned in the loud buzz around them.

Keeva just slammed her head into his ribcage again and took a moment to shiver off some sort of disgust.

She raised her hand without a word and stuck a jumbo shot of vodka in his face. Snickering, he reluctantly took it and she finally looked up.

Her fae-like features were twisted in a comical grimace, mixing both amusement and repulsion.

“I just walked past Mike from Alice. Nailing a chick, that blonde exchange student -“

“Shocking! Your first time seeing a cock?” he interrupted with a brash grin, but his expression froze when she finished her sentence.

“- against the kitchen door.”

“Wh-what?! The kitchen?” he stuttered out, slowly breaking into a scowl identical to hers. Keeva vehemently nodded.

“Fuck. That’s rancid,” Stone choked out and fiercely kicked back the vodka. His nose wrinkled in a signature scrunch.

“I was trying to run past it as fast as I could, but I was so perplexed by them that I stopped by and kinda gave him a -“

She took a step back from Stone and demonstrated her best judgemental glare, raising her eyebrows as far as they could go.

“And I shit you not, he stared me dead in the eye for like ten seconds and then just turned around -” she mimed holding someone’s ass in her arms and spun around, “- and continued like I wasn’t there.”

Stone’s cheeks puffed with a laugh and he nonchalantly shook his head, but his ears started to burn red because of her vivid description. And he couldn’t stop his intoxicated mind from wandering.

Get it together, asshole. Not her. She made that very clear.

“I mean, maybe he wanted to give her a proper Ramp experience...” he shrugged, trying to focus on anything else than the glistening sweat on her flushed cheeks.

Keeva scoffed and took a swig of her beer before folding her arms.

“Yeah, but the kitchen?! I mean, you wouldn’t do that. You’re an A-grade slut, but at least you’re a gentleman, too.”

Just let her have the last word. It’s so easy. For once in your life, just shut the fu-

“Depends on the company. You, I’d even take inside the kitchen if I had to.”

But instead of scolding himself, Stone’s mind filled up with confidence as the vodka spilt through his brain cells and his lips curled into a triumphant smirk.

Stop lying to yourself, Gossard. Don’t act like you don’t get off on this shit.

Keeva raised an eyebrow and seemed to genuinely ponder if he was being serious, but she quickly brushed off her momentary lapse of judgement with a sharp scoff.

“Fine, from now on I officially don’t believe anything that comes out of this filthy cakehole,” she shook her head and reached up to poke his mouth.

Surprised by her own audacity, she tapped her finger on the small dimple in the middle of his bottom lip. “Don’t slip on the cum-stained floor when you go wash it out with soap.”

She held it there, basking in the crackling sensation that pulsed from his soft skin through her calloused fingertip.

When Stone took a tiny step back, darting across her face with an unreadable expression, she froze. Her hand hung in the air as his eyebrows twitched into a minuscule frown.

After a moment far too long for her comfort, she jumped when he lunged forward and bit her finger, cursing under her breath.

He was cackling as he ruffled her hair, Keeva slapped his hand away and rubbed on the bite mark on her knuckle.

Even though Stone’s shoulders were shaking with giggles, there was a clear shift in his demeanour. He firmly folded his arms and took another step back, clearing his throat.

He knew she’d noticed.

Yeah, right, big guy. So much for ‘put my money where my mouth is’. Idiot.

“Fuck, great, now I have rabies,” Keeva muttered, studying her finger in the dim light as she gave him a side-eye, trying to hide a smirk.

Stone chuckled and scratched his forehead.

What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? A girl has touched you before. A lot of them did. She’s just another one. Just a girl. Just…

“What’s wrong? Am I foaming at the mouth already?” Keeva gasped, staring him down with a quizzical brow.

Why does she...strange. So, so strange.

All he managed to do was shake his head and try to put on an unbothered grin.

Snap out of it, you dumb fuck.

“Cat got your tongue?” she quipped, scoffing when he didn’t answer.

“Silent treatment, that’s new. And weird. I already miss your yapping,” Keeva shook her head and watched Stone’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He took a breath to speak, swiftly easing back into his smart-ass mode.

“Woah, woah, okay. Spoke too soon. Tell you what, I’ll go powder my nose and in the meantime, you can try to think of something funny to say,” she handed him her beer and patted his warm cheek. “You can do it, pretty boy, I believe in you.”

And with that, she disappeared, the crowd swallowing her small stature like an ocean wave. Stone luckily found an empty spot in the hoard of people next to the wall.

He leaned on it and banged his head against the uneven bricks.

You’re in deep shit, friend.

● ● ● ● ● ●

Five minutes passed. Then ten. After twenty, Stone’s impatient foot tapping caused a cramp to shoot through his calf, so he cursed and kicked the air a few times to shake it off.

Jesus, did she get flushed down the drain?

He wasn’t paying any attention to the shaggy-haired surfer dude in front of him. Stone somehow found himself in a conversation with him - he just appeared out of nowhere and started yapping on and on about how the bars are worse around Sunset Boulevard.

Ever the businessman, Stone took the opportunity to bet a shot that they would see at least a trio of cockroaches throughout the night.

Of course, he knew that even three was an outstandingly small number.

I’ll go check on her.

He excused himself and assured the guy that he would be back to collect his prize. He snaked through the entire bar, looking for her in every dark corner of the place.

He even tried knocking on the women’s room and calling after her, peeking in when a chirping group of girls allowed him to do so ‘if he really is Stoney’.

But she was nowhere to be found. The last place he didn’t check was a small patio behind the back door, usually a spot one went to when they wanted to fuck a stranger.

Nah, she just needed a breather alone. Or with the discount Steven Tyler that’s been eyeing her from the barstool all night.

Fuck, what do I care?

He liked to think that he had the talent to stomach anything with a straight face, but an unfamiliar burn settled in his lungs as he made his way through a narrow corridor leading to the door.

This is a bad idea. Turn around and leave. Go count cockroaches or something.

He passed a couple that was shamelessly slamming against the wall with dull thuds, but it didn’t phase him at all.

He was too busy fighting his hazy brain, trying to coax his limbs to beeline back inside.

But he couldn’t stop himself as he took the shabby door handle and pushed the metal door open with a loud creak.

Maybe he’d take the scene of her pinned against the dirty bricks by someone else than him over whatever he just walked into.

Keeva was lying on the filthy concrete, curled up in a fetal position and shaking. She was holding a fading cigarette between her cramped fingers, hot ash falling on her red knuckles with every sob she let out.

Stone didn’t think twice about dropping down to his knees and hovering above her, little rocks and rubble stabbed his skin through the holes in his jeans.

“Jesus fucking Christ. What - what’s wrong, Baby?” he stuttered as he pulled to sit her up and shuffle to the wall to rest her back against it. She immediately hugged her knees, avoiding his eyes like a plague.

She was hyperventilating, tears streamed out of her puffy eyes and fell on the snot-stained Nets t-shirt.

He crouched in front of her and tried to take the cigarette away so it wouldn’t burn her. But her hand twitched and the cramp intensified, so he put his hands on her knees instead, cautiously caressing her.

“It’s f-fine, let m-me be. I’ll c-come inside i-in a sec,” she hiccuped, shuffling away when he moved to sit down next to her.

He carefully hugged her around the shoulders and pressed her to his chest. She was still shaking with rapid breaths, but her body slowly collapsed closer to him.

Stone felt his limbs tingle with an alien sensation, almost as if he’d never touched a woman before. Like an eerie fever dream.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“No, I’m…I’m okay, t-this h-happens sometimes…s-sorry,” she mumbled again, resting her forehead on her knees. His heart dropped.

“Did someone hurt you?” he questioned, trying to lift her chin to see if her face was in one piece.

“No, no, it’s nothing, I just…just l-leave me here, okay? I’ll be right back,” she choked out and let him take a look. After sparing him a brief glance, Keeva shook his hand off and hid behind her hair.

She didn’t have any bruises, only cracked lips from all the salty tears.

“What happened? Who hurt you? Tell me, please,” he pressed, reaching up to stroke her hair.

“No one, I’m n-not hurt…it’s fine. Just go,” she repeated like a broken record, but he noticed that she began to melt into his arms and finally dropped the cigarette butt on the ground.

“I’m not leaving you.”

That brought a new wave of shivers and he desperately clutched her closer to make her warm.

Neither of them was wearing a jacket or a sweater, so he didn’t have much to work with. It still seemed to help, though, as her breathing slowly calmed down.

“What’s up, Baby?” Stone whispered after a long moment of silence, disturbed only by her fading sobs.

“I-it’s just…it’s me, I’m sorry. I’m just a sissy.”

She took a long pause to breathe in and cleared her hoarse throat.

“I, uh…I just saw some girls shooting up in the bathroom, that’s all. They offered me some, too, just as a cherry on top.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oh. Did…did you -” he carefully started, still whispering. The implication brought a bit of fuel into her exhausted body, so she immediately cut him off.

“Fuck no. Christ, of course not."

Keeva sounded almost offended, so he quickly regretted even thinking about that option.

“I’m sorry. Sorry, I just…it’s not uncommon here…” Stone muttered with a bitter undertone in his voice. She took a big breath again.

“I know, it’s f-fucking everywhere. I don’t know what I was thinking…as if you could run away from drugs,” she lamented under her breath like she was scolding herself. “I guess I p-probably chose the wrong career. It j-just hit me more than it should’ve. Like I said, sissy.”

He wasn’t sure of what to say, so he just stared at the dirty ground in front of them. He realized there were multiple fresh-looking cigarette butts, she must’ve smoked a lot more before he arrived.

Keeva sniffed and wiped her wet nose with the back of her hand.

“It’s, uh…my dad, he…”

She took a moment to inhale a shaky breath.

“He was a smack addict, OD’d this spring. I didn’t know him that well, but, uh…I’ve seen that shit when he crashed at our place, you know…mom and I had this tiny little flat.”

She suddenly sounded clear and lucid, almost detached.

“I ran off as often as I could, slept at whatever place I worked at or in the school gym…I was probably the only kid that enjoyed going to school, ‘cause it meant I wouldn’t have to be at home. They both had a lot of friends over,” she scoffed. “Well, friends - dodgy old men and strung-out buddies with a pocketful of crack.”

She started picking on her cuticles and tore a hangnail, so Stone mindlessly reached out to stop her and started playing with the battered old ring on her middle finger.

“And mom was…she was ill. Real ill. You know, here,” she tapped her temple. “Got some of it from her, I think. Family heirloom.”

A few moments of tense silence and she continued.

“I guess they did love each other, in some ugly twisted way. In the end, she couldn’t bear to live without him,” Keeva mumbled the last part like she was talking to herself.

“So, uh…I kinda found myself alone in a dirty hole in the middle of East End with about fifty quid to my name…mom left me that,” she scoffed again, this time even sharper. “No note or anything, just that one fucking piece of worthless green paper.”

She sighed and watched his bony fingers slowly wiggle the ring left and right, slightly concerned that he didn’t speak yet.

Or move, for that matter.

“Dad’s cousin, Toby, moved here a long time ago. The only family I knew, so when it all happened, he tracked me down and said he’d take care of me. Got me a one-way plane ticket. A guitar case and these stupid dungarees,” she swabbed her nose again and wiped it on her pants to make a point. “That’s all I had on me.”

“What about him?” Stone suddenly asked, his voice eerily monotone.

“He recently moved to Aberdeen, but he still helps me with rent, even when I don’t ask. I try not to, obviously…I gotta look for something cheaper, ‘cause he’s already done enough, you know?“ Keeva waved her hand to try and loosen her shaking fingers. “Too much.”

She took a deep breath and fiercely shook her head.

“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to just…shit, that was like an infodump from a bad movie,” she added and cleared her throat.

“Take it as a roundabout way of saying ‘run while you still can’,” she chuckled and tried to shuffle away, but Stone squeezed her closer.

A warm tear tickled her pale wrist, but it wasn’t one of her own. His breathing didn’t change, neither did his heartbeat or his stance.

Only the dull sound of teardrops falling on her skin as they dropped from the tip of his nose.

A Roman statue, weeping.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice didn’t indicate any sort of emotion, but it soothed her in a way she’d never felt before. She raised her eyebrows.

“Like, ever?” she huffed, trying to loosen the mood, but he stayed still.

“If that’s what you want,” he said and patiently waited for her reaction. When she didn’t give him one, he cleared his throat and finally moved to rest his head on top of hers.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

She scoffed.

“Only when I’m really riled up. News flash, it’s a nasty habit with zero benefits. Makes me even more poor, stinky and unhealthy.”

“A woman after my own heart," Stone nudged her shoulder, savouring the sound of her silent chuckle. "Just realized…I never asked you where you live.”

“At the corner of South Main and 17th Ave, next to Chinatown. A hovel, but there’s a bed and a bathroom and only I have the key. So I can’t complain,” she shrugged and continued. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Still costs an arm and a leg, though, so it’s only temporary. Too small to get a roommate. I mean, I prefer solitude anyway, but you can’t always get what you want.”

“You could live with me, you know. I mean, if you want. At my place,” Stone said after a long minute of silence, still fiddling with her ring. "Be alone together."

A breath hitched in Keeva’s throat and she furiously shook her head.

“No. No, no, thanks…thanks so much, Stoney, but no. That’s - that’s too much to ask for,” she began stuttering again.

Stone moved to look at her, but she was firmly fixated on the trashcan on the other side of the patio.

“You didn’t even ask for that,” he shot back, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, but you’re already more hospitable than I deserve,” she replied and shook her head again. “And I doubt your parents would be chuffed about a sudden stray raccoon occupying their house.”

He briskly sat up straight and pushed away from the wall to face her.

"No, I’m serious. There’s a little brick shed behind the house, that’s where I live. I re-made it into a proper living space, isolated the walls and put electricity there. A bathroom with a tiny shower, a kitchen corner and a small electric cooker. Got my own door, my own key, it’s detached from the house,” he spewed out, suddenly more animated than she’d ever seen him.

“I pay my parents some rent, but once we split it, we'll have more money for music. Or you can pay a smaller half and cook dinner from time to time to make up for the rest.”

Stone didn’t even let her take a breath.

“There’s an attic above the room, like a little loft. I already put a permanent ladder there, but it just collects dust ‘cause I don’t have enough stuff to fill it up,” he continued and finally let go of her fingers, waving his hands around as if he were using an invisible broom. “We can clean it up and put up a bed for you, or I can move up there and you can sleep downstairs, whatever you like better.”

Keeva stopped him, more firmly than before.

“Stoney, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not? Like I said, if you want, there’s an unused space and I was looking for someone to take in anyway, to split the rent. It’s a little neighbourhood in Capitol Hill, ten-minute bike ride from Pioneer. Volunteer Park right under your nose,” he continued, like a dedicated salesman.

“I know all the nooks and crannies, there’s tons of cool bars and cheap food spots. When the mountain’s out, you can see the Needle.”

He paused and when she didn’t immediately shoot him down, he started pushing again.

“If you insist on paying rent,” he shrugged and she finally looked up at him, slightly frowning. Red eyes and a patchy blush, smudged eyeliner and parched lips.

And yet, she was the most breathtaking human he’d ever seen.

“…and I wouldn’t dare to try and stop you, we’ll split, fair share. More dough for guitar strings and beer for both.”

“It’s just…I’m not…” she stuttered but Stone didn’t let her finish.

“If you’re concerned about the size, it’s about 175 square feet, I can shrink my stuff as much as you need -“

“No, it’s not that, that’s bigger than my flat. I just…”

“I rarely bring girls there. And if I happened to do that, by any chance, I’d tell you before -"

“You’re too good to me.”

Silence fell between them once again. This time, though, it was different. His strange gaze swallowed Keeva whole as if she was seeing him for the first time again.

Stone darted across her face and stopped at a fresh tear forming in the corner of her eye. He reached up and wiped it away with his thumb, touch as light as a feather.

“It’s about time someone is.”

“Stoney, I want to be alone,” she barely whispered, studying his firm expression.

“So do I.”

She finally ran out of pointless arguments and, after a moment, slowly nodded in agreement. He mirrored her nod, peridot twinkling under the milky moonlit sky.

How could I say no to them?

“I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow morning, show you around and you can decide if you like the look of it, okay?”

“Why?” she let the all-encompassing question hang in the air.

He sighed and rested his head on top of hers again.

“You get me. That’s why.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[talkintomytv]

I was reading up on Celestial hierarchy and from what I can tell the hierarchy in the show goes a little something like this

God

The Metatron

Supreme Archangel

Seraphim

Cherubim

Thrones

Dominions and Lordships

Virtues

Powers

Archangels

Principalities

then Guardians

According to the book of Angels Furfur had in episode 4, Aziraphile is a principality. This would explain his pure-of-heart/ innocent to-a-fault kind of good-natured soul because he's pretty low in rank no one has to tell him anything. They exist to do good and that's all he knows that's all he needs to know.

But then there's Crowley who I think might be a Seraphim.

I show my math but this gets pretty long and is chock-full of spoilers.

Traditionally (says a quick top result Google search) Seraphim are red-winged angels. Obviously, Crowley didn't have red wings as an angel but he does have red hair!

Also, his job was to create the nebulas that would become the stars and the planets across an infinite universe. A job that he was able to work very closely with the people upstairs on. I assume his interstellar blueprints came directly from the Metatron because, at the end of episode 6, The Metatron says to Aziraphale "Ah-well always did want to go his own way. Always asking Damned-Fool questions too." Implying Metatron had to personally deal with Crowley's incessant questioning.

When Shax tells Crowley that a miracle of enormous power has happened near his friend's bookshop she describes it as "the kind of miracle only the mightiest of Archangels could have performed."

Crowley responds "How do you know I didn't do it?"

I'm thinking, because Crowley was only trying to perform a fraction of a miracle but is so high tier in his abilities it ended up coming across as something only the toughest of Archangels could perform because, in the overall ranking of things, Archangels are pretty low so from Crowley's Seraphim point of view their powers are only minuscule no one should notice. Im thinkin' a fraction of a miracle performed by Seraphim would be equal to or greater than a miracle performed by the strongest of Archangels.

After Crowley became a giant in Edinburgh to set that young grave robber on the straight and narrow. Aziraphile points out that Hell was sure to notice. Crowley says "If they noticed that little display I'd already be--" before getting pulled down under. Like becoming a colossus was only a little use of his powers.

When Crowley snuck into heaven, Muriel told him they could not open the file on Gabriel because they would need the clearance of the Thrones, Dominions, or above. Crowley casually flips open the file.

Then, In Hell, Crowley told Beelzebub that "extreme sanctions" don't exist in Heaven and that was just something they made up to scare the Cherubs. Cherubs are very high on the list so Why would cherubs be scared of anything coming from the mouths of anyone they outrank? Michael, Uriel, and the lot used the threat of "extreme sanctions and easier from the book of life," because those were the stories they were frightened with by the higher-ups.

So Crowley has to have the clearance of the Thrones Dominions or above to be able to open the file and used to frighten Cherubs with threats of extreme sanctions placing him in the highest order of angels just under the Metatron.

And this could be why, during the ineffable divorce scene, Aziraphile says to Crowley "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you." (In Aziraphiles sweet and innocent mind it's the chance to be as happy as he was making the stars again but with the freedom to ask questions) But Crowley responds with "I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do." Because Crowley already worked that position directly under The Metatron and he already tried to make a difference at that level and he was cast into hell for it. Crowley doesn't want to see Aziraphile cast into Hell. He won't like it there.

[dykesbites]

ok im gonna focus my anger on to something else. anyways i rewatched night at the museum with my mom and it reminded me of how great the original one was and how god awful the sequel was. like yeah there were some iffy things in the first movie (larry going "civil war guys stop fighting slavery is bad" and they immediately stop fighting and agree with him + the romans and the cowboy miniatures allowed to roam free while the maya are locked up + avid bison hunter teddy roosevelt dating sacagawea + despite their incredibly rich history there's zero black people present etc) but overall the film itself was fun and had a plotline that made sense. it was cheesy and kind of obvious but its a kids movie. then the sequel happened.

ohh my god this movie was so so so bad. like racist/misogynistic bad but also narratively unsatisfying. the worst crime to me was that they literally removed almost all of the old iconic characters from the first film? teddy only shows up in the beginning and the end, ahkmenrah is completely irrelevant, scagawea and attila are locked up most of the time, jed is stuck in the hourglass...none of them have any importance to the actual action despite being THE reason that larry returns to the museum!!

oh and larry totally ditches his son like nick gives him a bunch of information then he loses service on his phone and then...never attempts to contact him again. this poor kid is probably worried sick that his father is being killed by lions or sabretooth tigers.

second worst thing to do with characters: literally all of the new characters were so so incredibly boring, and also didn't have like. a theme around them? it just felt so messy and thrown together, lacking the cohesion that everyone at the natural history museum had. none of the villains have much in common with each other either... and like im not a history expert but i find it very hard to imagine that al capone would work with royalty like come on. oh and kahmunrah was so boring, no real motivations at all. also whyyy is there an octopus.

actually i lied this is probably a worse crime. the mischaracterization of historical figures. i feel like im watching fucking hamilton here! im sorry but napoleon would not give a shit about larry and amelia's potential relationship and that joke wasn't even that funny anyway. WHY DID ABRAHAM LINCOLN ACT LIKE THAT (he was much more tolerable when he came back to the rescue but he was so awful when we met him). the einsteins were annoying. i could go on and on brother

ok moving away from bad writing to address the stuff that's just morally messed up. um. everything about general custer oh my fucking god. i will never forgive them for making sacagawea put up with his stupid ass. he is quite literally most famous for the fact that he tried to kill indigenous people. yeah it wasn't in sacagawea's lifetime but i find it hard to believe that things would just be totally chill between them. not to mention the fact that custer literally contributed nothing, he has an entire moment where larry coddles him for being a failure, then goes into the fight, immediately gets knocked out, and then tries to act like he led the battle. classic white man behavior.

and again, massive lack of black history. there's a moment of solidarity with amelia and the tuskeegee which was nice! genuinely sweet moment. but despite yknow being the race that has existed longer than any other. the tuskeegee are the only black people we see.

and of course the elephant in the room, the obnoxious focus on romance throughout the entirety of the film. the cherubs were super annoying. the thinker showing off his muscles to some random nymph statue or whatever. very weird. and the constant never ending awkward flirting between amelia and larry. like amelia is supposed to be a trailblazer for being a woman doing something impressive that was considered a man's job! so why are you reducing her to a pretty girl who punches people sometimes but mostly just kisses the protagonist even when he says he's not interested!! part of what made the og movie so good was that there were women in the story but none of them were romantically involved with him at all. even rebecca, who seemed like she was set up to be a love interest, was just a good friend of larry's. they were independent women with agency (aside from sacagawea but she shares that lack of agency with the other museum displays) and their own wants needs etc. and of course they had to add in the weirdness of having larry repeatedly say he's not interested in amelia (which makes sense, it would feel out of character for him to immediately be into it) and then have amelia kiss him anyways. really gross. oh and they cast amy adams to play amelia which. nothing against amy adams she's a brilliant actress but not the one for this role. google amelia earhart she's a pretty masculine/rougher woman. not the femme fatale in the movie.

ok i don't have a real conclusion here just my thoughts all dumped. if you read all of this o7 i salute you. feel free to comment/rb with your thoughts btw!