#title from Violet by Wild Party

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

a whisper in the autumn wind

Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1647 | Read on AO3

A chill racks your body as you and Mark make your way through the cool night. You mentally curse, wishing you were wearing more layers, though you know anything more wouldn't have fit under the tactical vest that sits snugly around your torso.

Your heist partner doesn't seem to notice you shiver, busy making sure the coast is clear before proceeding and gesturing for you to follow.

You do your best to keep pace with your friend's manoeuvres as he darts an odd pattern through the museum, triggering a bout of slight nausea that causes you to stop in your tracks.

‘Hey, keep up!’ Mark whisper-yells, turning around just in time to miss you steadying yourself after a wave of dizziness.

Somehow you make it the rest of the way without collapsing or being seen, but you're now all too aware of the fatigue in your muscles and the soreness in your throat. Meanwhile, your partner in crime carefully but swiftly wraps the stolen artefacts and slips them into his bag.

Your prize this time? A series of ancient tablets that you plan to sell to an illegal collector. You can't imagine what practical use someone would have for these, but at the end of the day, a job's a job and money is money.

It is only on your way out, that you feel the tell-tale itch in your nose that you have been dreading all evening.

As you scrunch up your face, Mark looks at you in confusion.

‘Buddy, you've been acting off all night, what's up with you? You good?’

You nod, desperately wanting to move on and for this to be over with.

The first couple of sneezes you manage to quell without too much fuss, but you can already feel a larger one threatening your nostrils.

While crouched behind a display, hiding from some guards, comes the point at which you can no longer hide that you're suppressing sneezes.

‘Alright, we are so close to being scot-free— hey what are you —? You're not sick are you? Really? Now?!’

Mark shakes his head back and forth with a string of frantically whispered "no"s as you fight your reflexes, but it's futile.

The sneeze that finally escapes you is resounding, and there is a beat of stunned silence and lack of movement from every party involved before you and Mark react first, bolting out the exit with the guards in pursuit.

It's a mad dash with a lot of ducking and diving, adrenaline probably the only thing keeping your body going, but by some miracle the two of you manage to lose them, eventually making it to where your getaway vehicle is parked some ways away so as to not be suspicious.

Piling into the passenger seat, exhaustion hits you all at once and you're thankful that Mark is the one driving. You pull off your gloves and hat and he does the same.

With no one following you, your partner drives cautiously in order to not draw any unwanted attention, careful to abide by traffic laws and always on the lookout for cops.

‘There's tissues and water in the glove box,’ he says after a few minutes, expression hard-lined and inscrutable, eyes focused on the road.

There's a thick tension in the car, uncharacteristically quiet save for the limited traffic outside and the rumble of the engine. You blow your nose, and it feels awkward in the silence, only broken on occasion by your sniffing. You take a sip of water, grateful for the coolness against your chapped lips and dry throat.

Eventually, you decide you don't want to endure the tension any longer, and you're too tired to let your little mishap turn into an argument; it was your fault, after all.

‘I'm sorry.’

Mark sighs. He glances at you, then back to the road.

‘It's okay. It's not your fault you're sick, it's just… Why didn't you tell me?’

‘Didn't want to ruin the heist.’ You laugh, but it's strained and weak, void of any real mirth or humour. ‘But I guess I kinda messed up on that anyway, huh?’

He lets out a small huff of laughter. ‘Yeah, no shit.’

You look down at your hands, folded in your lap.

‘Hey, it's not a big deal,’ he consoles. ‘We got what we came for and we didn't get caught. That's about as much as we can say for most of our heists.’

Your gaze stays downcast; he does make a good point, but it doesn't stop you from feeling a little guilty.

Mark must notice, because he reaches across to place a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, other hand still keeping the wheel steady.

You put your own hand over his, grateful for the comfort. You close your eyes and will away the growing dizziness and brain fog, the warmth from his now ungloved palm reassuring.

‘Look buddy, I need you to know I'm not mad or anything, just a bit upset that you didn't tell me in the first place… and annoyed at myself for not catching onto the fact sooner. I just thought… I thought you felt like you could be honest with me about this stuff.’

There's an undeniable hurt in his tone that makes you look up at him. He is still intently focused on the road ahead, despite there being rather few other people and cars out at this time of night, and you know it's out of choice — he takes his eyes off the streets in favour of looking your way for much longer than necessary when he wants to. Usually you'd chide him for doing so, but right now you can't help but wish he'd properly meet your eyes, just for a moment.

‘No – I can. I can tell you nearly everything, I – I'm sorry.’ You take a steadying breath, organising your thoughts. ‘You were just – really looking forward to this one, and there was no better day for it, everything lined up perfectly for us to go tonight. This stupid cold had to turn up and it started out as just a sore throat, no big deal, and well… I thought I could stick it out a little longer despite feeling like crap, but…’ You trail off, turning to look out the window as he approaches your shared base, returning his hand to the wheel.

He pulls up, setting the car to park, and finally turns his head to fully face you, placing a hand on your knee to get your attention.

He says your name, and it sounds like a term of endearment. For someone so bold and often brash, he can be surprisingly tender, a side of him that rarely anyone but you gets to see. ‘I rely on you, and you can rely on me… but part of that means we have to tell each other these things.’

‘Yeah, OK…’

‘Pinky promise?’

‘What are you, five?’

‘I'm serious,’ he says firmly, holding out his finger to emphasise the point.

Smiling, you hook your pinky around his own and shake on it, but not without rolling your eyes first.

‘Good,’ he says, pleased. ‘Now that that's settled, let's get inside, hm?’

While Mark retrieves the loot and stows it for the time being, you let yourself in, settling on the small couch in the living room. You take off your shoes and unzip your vest, easing it off your aching limbs.

The nausea and dizziness seems to have passed but you feel hot, yet a little shivery, and you're on the verge of nodding off when Mark appears in front of you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. If it's even possible, you feel incrementally hotter with his touch as you return his concerned gaze through sleepy, half-lidded eyes.

‘I think you've got a fever, bud. C'mon, time for bed.’

You groan in protest, too drained to move, instead letting your head fall forward to plop against his chest, the soft texture of his plain black sweater a comforting feel against your fevered skin.

‘Oh boy, what am I gonna do with you…?’ he murmurs, bringing a hand up to pat your hair. He speaks softly, and with such affection that your heart would probably be doing somersaults if you weren't so tired and ill.

‘Alright, upsy-daisy.’ In one quick motion, he picks you up, carrying you bridal style to your room, and for once you don't object.

‘Hey, you better not make me sick too,’ he warns without an ounce of actual distaste, as you practically nuzzle your face into him.

He gently lays you in bed, tucking covers around you.

‘I'll be right back.’

You instantly miss his presence, tugging the blanket up a little around yourself.

He returns before long with a box of tissues, the bottle of water you'd been drinking and some painkillers, leaving them by your bedside. He places a wet face cloth beside you as well.

‘I know you're probably feeling cold but I don't want your temperature to get too high, so use this, and keep drinking water.’

You nod, about ready to drift to sleep.

‘Call me if you need anything, OK? I won't be far.’

‘Don't you want to sleep?’

‘I will in a little while, but you can still call me.’

‘Ok,’ you reply appreciatively. ‘Thanks for… looking after me.’

‘Someone's got to.’ He smiles at you gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

After a pause, he gets up to leave, pulling the door closed but leaving a gap the width of his face.

‘Rest up, buddy.’

He makes a quick kissing sound in your direction before shutting the door fully, his footsteps receding down the hallway.

Your face feels very warm.

Must be the fever, you think, placing the towel on your forehead with a yawn, before swiftly falling asleep.

[quirkycritters]

Game Night: CHAIN ATTACK!!!

i am,,, withering away but ITS DONE ITS DONE IM FREE FROM THE CURSE (<<< still haunted by wips) clocking in at 32+ hours, this sucker has been getting pushed around for 10 months-

while theres some things i would have done differently if i could redo this from scratch, i still had a BLAST cramming in as much detail as i could tolerate >:) some highlights / cut ideas / ramblings are below the cut, but please zoom for details! (if tumblr doesnt shred it to bits)

gonna be real i locked so hard onto drawing ripped jeans that i forgot i could have just shoved legend into a skirt and called it a day

SOCKS. SOCKS. the amount of Joy anytime i figured out how to personalize them with game references: legend (hibiscus), twilight (ordon goats), and four (force gems)

i WAS going to put time in a turtleneck, but had an epiphany and started digging for the most obnoxious hawaiian shirts i could find,,, ft. a sea flower (wind waker) and a saturation boosted plumm (twilight princess)!

yeah so warriors got the sweater instead of the skintight shirt, sorry gang

speaking of if i ever say im going to draw a cableknit sweater again, somebody PLEASE shake some sense into me- warriors sweater was a NIGHTMARE since my art program has an astonishing lack of good brushes (and yet here i am still using it)

MOST of the text has been modified using the twilight princess cipher because yeah. i was procrastinating shading. also the other ciphers were in japanese- times shirt is cropped, but reads "its 5 oclock somewhere"

winds lobster shirt :) that is all i just think its neat

wilds jacket :) link w(ild) 2017, aka the release year of botw

jewelry! sky has the fireshield earrings, and wild has the amber earrings~ could barely squeeze the bombos and quake medallions onto legend, and wind got the joy pendant

hyrule :D embroidery on his sweatpants because i was struck by whimsy- also i 100% thought his shield was purple tinted for weeks while drawing this because the page i used as reference was set at night, and i was originally basing his sweater on his shield- scrapped the cross pattern after several failed attempts but kept the color ^^

the chips are bbq because im biased (reads "crisps" in twilight princess cipher for no real reason except whimsy)

bless my dearest homie for game reccs because the og plan was to have them all be loz games! titles include wii sports resort, elebits, super mario party, smash bros ultimate, just dance 2016 (its box art is colorful ok), and myth makers orbs of doom (I HATE THIS GAME WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING, as i should, anyways i should play it again). four is suggesting orbs of doom, buddy aint even playing,,,

kinda was hoping to play around with hair colors and skin tones a bit more, but again, see the hour count- ill get em next time surely,,, also blue vs violet eyes for legend already had me in decision paralysis

the whole gang was gonna have friendship bracelets with color combos based on dynamics i found neat but oops! didnt finish the layer :')

thats a wrap! didnt yap about everything but im curious what yall catch onto- anyways surely ive learned something about biting off more than i can chew (<<< lying liar who lies)

[hundredacreletters]

Lady Whistledown Column from the Doctor Who episode Rogue (1x06) at the Pemberton Ball (SPOILERS!)

spoilers, sweetie! you have been warned

. November 29, 1813

Dearest Gentle Reader,

The Pemberton Ball last night turned into just the show the Duchess seemed to have wanted.

Even though most of the guests lied straight to the Dutchess’ face, the whole event was nothing special at the start. Throughout most of the night, I assumed the talk of the party would be nothing more than the horrid frock of the Duchess of Pemberton. One would assume the host of such an event would put more effort into her look. She certainly did not want the ton assuming she was a delightful person who was easy to approach for pleasant conversation. She did indeed try to turn it around on poor Lady Wallace who had a similar frock on to one she previously wore, but that did not make her look any more handsome. Lady Wallace did seem to know the unspoken rules more than the Duchess.

“If you wear a gown doned by another member of society, especially more than a season ago, the only way to escape ridicule is to turn more eyes in a pleasing way.”

Lady Wallace certainly won that game.

Lord Barton continued his rakish ways by upsetting half of the ladies in attendance tonight. Miss Emily Beckett was particularly disturbed by the Lord, but later appeared to be cheered up by newcomer Lady Ruby Sunday. She comes south from Notting Hill Estate. Lady Sunday almost fell prey to Lord Barton as well. This author has never seen one see through his guise so swiftly. It is like a refreshing cup of lemonade after a night of dancing to see a stranger figure out another’s true nature without reading my column. Comparing Lord Barton to the likes of stilton? Birds of a feather, you and I might be. I hope we meet before you return north.

The night certainly turned around by the antics of some mystery guests and the Duchess herself. This author certainly knew this ball would be the Pemberton’s most eventful ball to date when a particular dance started. Out of the blue waltzed in a couple comprised of both men. Not a closed mouth in the room once eyes were laid on the pair. One in blue looking eerily similar to the late Viscount Bridgerton. Another wearing crimson, only being called the doctor by all who introduced him. The violet pair must mingle often based on their outburst. I hardly assume the traditional courting traditions have been followed. Nonetheless, the unknown Lord in blue asked the doctor, with his heart bleeding out across his chest, to give up his title and fortune for him. The Lord in Blue could not promise him a future without an ultimatum. At that, he briskly dropped to one knee. Despite the avant-garde match, there seemed more love than in almost every match in all of Bath. And, after all of that passion, the doctor turned him down. Note to the Lord in Blue: I would never. Even if this match is scorned by most of society, the pair are ruined in most eyes now. There must be lots of hurt if they don’t end up together when they have no one but each other. I do not see why it is so unsightly to most. From a mathematical stand, if society allowed such ideas, there would be a higher probability for the all coveted “love matches.”

Somehow, this wasn’t the most wild display of the night. There was a horror show played out throughout the house. Actors were dressed as bird-like creatures painted as villains. The Duchess was the star antagonist of it all. If this show was as planned as it appeared, the timeliness of it was peculiar. Many of the guests were gone by the time the show started. Lord Galpin, known for being one of the last to leave a function, left before any action started. It was certainly not for everyone, as it scared off the rest of the party. If the Duchess wanted a show, she surely got it. Not how I would have ended a party, though. You must forgive our haste in leaving without goodbyes, Duchess. Those who were not startled by your frock were later scared off by your avian obsession.

As always, Lady Whistledown

uploaded to ao3 as Lady Whistledown Column from the Pemberton Ball

[eddiestightywhities]

TEASER TUESDAY

this is from (what has evolved into) my jealous!eddie fic asdfhjkljjjjsksk. it's canon compliant, so far, and i actually shared the first half for snippet sunday but i'm including it here, too, because it's changed quite a bit since then.

WARNING: i personally have no hate for tommy, but eddie is becoming increasingly jealous af over tevan—and is also devastated about chris leaving and sad in general right now bc of it—and therefore kinda digging in on hating on the guy in this particular story.

.

“It'll always be you, Eds.”

Buck beams at him from across the table and Eddie thinks of Texas sunshine in late July and of violet flames and Supernovas.

He feels his best friend's words and that blinding smile in his gut like a constant, gnawing hunger, but Eddie's an old hand at starving himself of his desires and doesn't know how to answer anyway so just winks and smiles back, and it's a dim little effort peeking out from the cover of the shady place Eddie's been cowering in for a while—ever since the brutal incandescence of the lightning strike, since Buck fucking died—while he tries his utmost not to freak out two-fold: 1) at the non-stop panic attack-inducing possibility of something as completely fucked-up as those three minutes and seventeen seconds happening al over again and 2) self-abasing distress over whether or not here is just where Eddie lives, now.

Dwindling in the shadows.

He crosses his arms over his chest (his heart) and breathes in deeply yet silently, and is motionless as possible as he prays his wild-eyed expression isn't giving away his hard-won hiding place.

Buck shouldn't be able to just—say stuff like that to him. It's torture. And while Eddie may very well be a masochist, he does have his limits. Sure, right now his partner is actually only talking about them teaming up for Pictionary and whatever other games the group will undoubtedly end up threatening each other over this evening, but still. Eddie can't help but hear some things in the way he is so desperate to hear them.

Those things he wishes Buck meant for real.

Whether Eddie is capable of openly admitting it or not (maybe he has some kind of weird defect when it comes to this shit?), he now knows inherently that it'll always be Buck for him from here on out

Then Buck is merciless, adding, “You're my Ride or Die, Diaz! It's you and me forever, right?” just to up the torture and consequently murder Eddie in cold blood right here in the middle of Hen and Karen's living room in front of all their friends.

And ¡Dios mio!, Eddie is so totally fucking fucked.

Despite himself, he nods and huffs out a small laugh, confirming, “Ride or Die, Buckley,” while cursing the blood vessels in his neck and cheeks and ears as he flushes a shade of scarlet redder than the sacred Mexican Heart under the scrutiny of the entire gang (bar Bobby and Athena), fists clenching further where they're balled up beneath his armpits.

Chimney raises his beer in the air. “Alright, alright, settle down you bunch of reprobates! All Ride or Die teams have been established, so, everybody buddy up and take your places beside each other now, please. I believe that you all have a drink…” and he looks around the table to check if his estimate is correct before continuing. “Yes, cool, okay, so. It is therefore once again time to find out who this month's Most Powerful Party Gaming Duo will be—” and he turns to Maddie and says, “Don't worry pookie, nobody's taking away our reigning champion title tonight; we got this.”

Maddie smiles at her husband, sweet as sugar cookies, before addressing the rest of the room with a savage, “Get ready to have your asses handed to you, Losers!” 

There is a round of disgusted gasps being gasped and disbelieving heads being shaken and defensive fists being waved in the air, all amid Hen's, “Reigning champions? You won one time. And who the hell made you Gamesmaster Han, anyway? My house, my rules, Howard.” And then Karen's adding, “I think you'll find it's actually our house, my rules, babe,” in her wife's direction, she and everybody else now moving around the table like they're playing musical chairs—Eddie stubbornly stays put because if you ask him, it's more than enough that he's managing to be here, period—as each of them pairs up with their chosen teammates into squads made up of Significant Others.

Husband and wife. Wife and wife. Two sets of Boyfriends and girlfriends. Josh and his date. 

Eddie and Buck. 

Except it isn’t Eddie and Buck, not really. Not at all, actually, at least not in the way Eddie wants it to be—fucking needs it like his blood needs to move oxygen around his body to keep him alive—because Eddie will only ever be Buck’s ‘forever’ whenever Tommy isn’t around.

The Air Operations pilot is on shift tonight, thank fuck. Eddie honestly isn’t sure of what he would have done if Buck’s boyfriend had come over this evening. Bailed on the whole thing, probably. 

He becomes vaguely aware of the half-moon shapes that must be forming in the heels of his palms from where his short fingernails are trying their best to break the skin, and wonders when exactly it was that he started referring to his buddy, Tommy, as ‘The Pilot’. Although Eddie isn't sure of whether the term buddy can really be applied any longer, not since the dynamics between Tommy and Buck changed, and Eddie hasn’t heard from Pilot Boy in weeks. And, okay, so the reason for that is most likely the fact that Eddie kept brushing the guy off like a first class asshole, until Tommy just stopped bothering to call. But honestly, he just can’t bring himself to give a shit about whatever the new buddyship between the pair of them might have bloomed into—not when the sneaky fuck stole his Buck.

If the skin on the palms of Eddie’s hands wasn’t so calloused from work he's pretty sure there'd be blood dripping from them right now. 

“Hey, you okay, man?”

Buck has swapped seats with May and is now bumping Eddie’s shoulder and knee with his own, and Eddie wants to fucking die. 

“What? Oh, sure, peachy. You?” 

“Yeah, I'm good, Eddie. You just—you look a little—” 

“How we feelin’ about our odds tonight then, amigo? Think we can take the title?” Eddie can't change the subject fast enough. 

Steady as ever, Buck just goes with the flow and rolls with Eddie's punches like the seasoned champ he is. 

“I really think tonight could be our night, Eds.” 

Pure. Fucking. Torture.

“Eh, your artistic prowess isn't exactly well documented, Buck.”

Buck scoffs in mock-offence that has a little too much bite for it to be entirely pretend. “I absolutely beg to differ, actually, and so would—”

Christopher.

Their eyes meet for less than a second before Eddie is looking away, yet that's all it takes for him to spot the anguish swirling round his best friend's baby blues. It's like oil in water: Two things that should just never be put together.

“Eds—”

Eddie clears his throat and tries to swallow down the lump that's instantly formed, in an attempt to fill the other gaping hole in his heart; the one that sits right next to the empty space that belongs to Buck.

He can't do this right now. Not here.

“To be fair, I'm not much better, so.” His voice sounds like somebody else's.

Somebody better than him.

Again, Buck pulls on the thread Eddie's left dangling for him, the way he's supposed to. “Well that is bullshit and you know it,” he counters, with a parental look of admonishment that's become polished over the years with the ton of practice that he's had with—

This time Eddie can't keep his deep breathing covert, so he sucks in two big lungs full before exhaling sharply and grabbing at his beer. He takes a long swig to distract himself from his wayward thoughts, and the IPA is nowhere near as bitter as the foul taste already festering away on his tongue.

“You're too hard on yourself, Eddie. You always have been. You need to—you gotta learn to be kinder to yourself, man. Realise that—that some things, such as art,” Buck says pointedly, as if Eddie doesn't know that he's not talking exclusively about Eddie's mediocre willow charcoal skills, “they can just—take a little extra time and patience, is all.” 

God, Eddie loves him so much he aches right down to his fucking bone marrow.

.

tagged by the lovely @inell — thanks, boo! my tags are beneath the cut...

@rosieposiepuddingnpie @sortasirius @angela-feelstoomuch @woodchoc-magnum @veronae-buddie @kitteneddiediaz @buddiebeginz @eddiegettingshot @mazzystar24 and anybody else who wants to do the thing!

[bellatrixnightshade]

The Costume of Red Death

On wattpad

Death loved these times, where he was nearly drunk on power. 

As of late, he had stolen the lives of millions, all due to a plague the mortals called “Red Death.” (Though death rather liked that title for himself.) No sickness was as beautiful, powerful, glorious and impressive as this bloody malady. It was his masterpiece and one Fate had chosen to go down in history among the mortals. Something that would make her stories interesting enough. Death wasn’t so cruel as to make it last beyond half an hour and the scariest symptoms were merely blood and the strangest feeling in the head.

The prince of the land by the sea, Prospero, was unhappy, and weak, and unwise. He had abandoned those in most need and had gathered his friends off to his eccentric palatial abbey to run off from Death’s tyranny. There they caroused endlessly, so carefree and immortal. Immune and glorious, drunk on divinity. Lord Red Death was patient. He would find a way to burst through the oh so firm iron gates that shut him out. He would have to try to slip through it with more effort– or so they believed. He didn’t mind that he was forgotten or uninvited. He had a way of enjoying parties anyway, whether his company was desired or not.

And so, on the night of a wild, almost grotesque sort of masquerade, created by Prince Prospero, Death slid in, residing in the seventh room of black with deep red windows the color of roses. And of course, he could hear the chiming of the black clock.

Only a few visited him, and soon their lives were stolen, so that they became his puppets. The visitors had eyes of violet and were the perfect toys at his disposal. Mother and son. His deathlings, his necromancers, against Life’s children.

And soon, after seeing the ink of a book he had carried with him turn black,and he heard the chiming of te black clock call to him,  he knew it was time for his entrance.

He entered a room that was filled with creatures that were parts of horrific nightmares. All except a few, who tried to escape to the blue room, knowing clearly who he was, which he felled down at the first instant. To his surprise, the life from them faded away and golden orchids from one withered into rot. Red Death smiled with triumph, and the mortal dancers froze at seeing him, an uninvited, strange guest never before seen.

The room’s temperature dropped into a deadly chill and Prospero ran near the blue room and the dead bodies of the lifelets. One was a woman Red Death decided to spare, to make into his own little abomination and his accomplice. She was too beautiful to let go, with her dress the orange of autumn.

Death gazed upon Prospero gently through his mask splotched with red. He held out his hand to him, inviting him across the veil with no violence in his will. Prospero paled, glanced at the deceased lifelets, and then flashed him a look of intense hatred.

"Who dares enter my masquerade without my permission or desire?” he hissed. Red Death didn’t flinch but only stood taller. He was unafraid of the antics of mortals, who were like little dogs who tried to intimidate by barking, but who were in reality, nothing. And who was this prince to act disgraced and offended when he dared believe he could run from him and his call? That he and his friends could forget him and push him to the side? That he would allow them to indulge their delusions?

“I want him to be unmasked,” the prince shouted to his guests, “and hanged at sunrise!”

A woman dressed in green, gave Death a sneer. “The audacity! Tormenting us with a costume that reminds us of– well, the thing that shall not be named. The impertinence!” However, one glance towards the blue room and she gasped. 

‘Your protector is gone,” Death proclaimed calmly and without emotion. “And he will never be back to restore you or remain with you. It seems my creations have weakened his powers. The wars, the disease, the horrors, and the pain. His magic comes from life and there is barely any life left.”

At this, the prince impulsively brandished a knife, poised to strike. Red Death gently touched him, and Prospero fell to the ground, stricken. First came the pains, the swirling head, and the bleeding which had no open flesh as a source. His eyes widened in realization as he gripped his throat, choked out of air, until finally, Death had stolen his life– and his person and his name.

The others screamed and stamped their way to the dark room in a frenzy, but Death robbed them all of breaths, pulses, and beating hearts until they either crossed to the other side, chose to live another lifetime, or remain trapped on this hell of a earth, under his thrall. 

Red Death morphed into a more charming figure, a clone of Prospero's with dark hair, rich brown skin, hazel eyes, and sweet freckles, only retaining his dreadful red color of cloth. Even his very outfit, however, transformed into something luxurious, silky, resplendent and regal. The spirit of Prospero only looked on, dismayed, but speechless and resigned. Red Death picked up his crown from the corpse’s head and placed it atop his own head, whispering to the ghost, “Woe to the fallen, but hail to the one who has just risen.”

The storybook burned into a silvery white light and Red Death turned to it confused. This indicated that perhaps… one wasn’t dead yet.

He carefully glided over the other bodies, afflicted by the plague he inflicted upon them and felt the pulse of the King of Lifelet’s with golden brown hair that reminded one of the richness of autumn. It was faint, but still alive. Prospero drew out a glow from this one’s heart and smiled, storing it away in the blue room he’d rarely enter for good measure. He took another glow, bluish-green, and mixed it with red, and threw it upon the woman. His creation.

And finally, with his sharp scythe, he stole the life of the King of Lifelet’s. And when the spirits, plus a fleeing vampire creature saw the garden, all the golden orchids, forget me nots, sunflowers, and tulips had turned into thorny red roses, deadly nightshades, foxgloves, and poison ivy.

When Red Death returned, to rest in his black room, he read with delight the black-inked “The End” inside the pages of Fate’s storybook.

[mysimsshowdown]

SHOWDOWN SPOTLIGHT #1

hey its metal and welcome to showdown spotlight! these will not be done regularly at all but as i brainstorm what i want this project to even. Be more i thought id just post some behind the scenes snippets to that ppl got a clearer idea of what im workin with here. heres a bunch of details from the outline doc; namely episode titles, the final teams, and most exciting of all,,challenge ideas!!! woo!!!

the show being contestant vote (the contestants eliminate each other instead of the viewers voting on it like an object show) means i have Complete And Total Control and i can plan out all the story beats and character developments and whatnot without worrying about something going awry because everybody decided to vote out a character i was building something with LMAO. that means i have a lot of neat ideas like this in storage i can dig up and fall back on!

ive not decided a set order i wanna do these challenges in. i keep goin back and forth on all of them because GODD theyre so fun they sound so fun to just write and do and AGHGHHGH i just wanna get this thing out there somehow even though i know like 2 people are gonna care. its MY BIRTHDAY PARTY and I GET TO PICK THE HYPERFIXATION

anyway, onto the teams. when i was working on deciding the teams i wanted them all to have kinda a "Thing". in my head it was like...Franklin is all the, in my eyes, "fan favorite" sims (and also chaz.) besides cassandra those are all characters that have appeared in multiple games and have a decent following from what i know. dj candy and violet appear in Every Fucking Game theyve earned this. Eureka is the goofy wildcard team, a bunch of characters that dont really fit together trying to make it work!! and then The Uhhhh is the result of morcubus trying to make a team out of morcucorp operatives but yuki gets distracted and leaves for another team because she ate the fuckgn contract and therefore doesnt remember signing up to work with morcubus, and theyre left with the fuckin. table crumbs nobody else wanted LOL. poor lyndsay

curating the cast of showdown was really tough because i had to leave out a lot of my fav sims, like summer, beebee, mel, nichole, sapphire, rosalyn--and i know ppl are gonna be questioning why some iconic sims like travis arent here. like bro I only have half of the royal academy on the show thats wild LMAO.

truth be told, 24 contestants is not ENOUGH to represent the love i have for these characters, but the 24 i picked id say strike a good balance between MY personal favorites and generally beloved sims. u may notice i try to address this by having some of these characters play significant roles in challenges!! and i hope that strikes a good balance :)

showdown still has a long way to go and im not totally sure if itll be more than just an idea rn, but im loving working on it and i hope i can get it out there one day!! if ur one of the aforementioned 2 people reading this then thank u very much and i hope u have an awesome day

[descendingarpeggio]

introduction/dni/interests <3

(unrelated - SEND ASKS IM BEGGING)

i typed a LOT, so, if you just would like to skim through, look for purple text. i've highlighted the most important parts for you <3

identity/personality:

~ hi! my name is herb, which, in honesty, is an alias i use online.

~ i use he/him pronouns, and i am a cisgender male. i would prefer not to label my sexuality, as i experience fluctuation on the romantic spectrum frequently. generally, i most align with aromanticism and asexuality. if you need a more direct answer, gay is fine and true.

~ i can come off as uninterested and sometimes rude, which i promise is all in good fun and not at all intentional. i often try to turn negativity into humour in order to lighten the mood, and i will do everything in my power to avoid confrontation. i am admittedly a sore loser and tend to quit things/get bored very quickly. i sometimes make sexual jokes, which i will absolutely stop if asked in one-on-one discussion.

interests:

~ one thing that i have not quit or gotten bored of is music. i've been singing as long as i can remember, both professionally and for my own enjoyment. i enjoy music theory very much, but i don't know a lot and would like to learn more. some artists i really enjoy are laufey, mitski, and a newer artist called christina qu. my favorite song is goddess by laufey. music is most certainly my number one interest. i'm going to include a list of my favorite songs below. i'm making this scrolling through my playlist, which was made by artist/album, so this list will be formatted similarly.

dreamer (laufey), while you were sleeping (laufey), lovesick (laufey), promise (laufey), letter to my 13-year-old self (laufey), goddess (laufey), bored (laufey), magnolia (laufey), like the movies (laufey), i wish you love (laufey), james (laufey), best friend (laufey), let you break my heart again (laufey), fragile (laufey), beautiful stranger (laufey), valentine (laufey), above the chinese restaurant (laufey), everything i know about love (laufey), a pearl (mitski), your best american girl (mitski), i bet on losing dogs (mitski), crack baby (mitski), because dreaming costs money, my dear (mitski), circle (mitski), first love/late spring (mitski), another sunrise (christina qu), bird falling from the sky (christina qu), a passing memory (christina qu), army dreamers (kate bush), femininominon (chappell roan), good luck, babe (chappell roan), hot to go (chappell roan), pink pony club (chappell roan), birds of a feather (billie eilish), the greatest (billie eilish), blue (billie eilish)

~ another interest of mine is video games. i've been playing video games since i was very young and currently play games on mobile, switch, playstation, and pc. i really enjoy horror games, particularly co-op/multiplayer horror. another genre i really enjoy is "cozy" games. simulation games such as supermarket simulator and palia are some of my all-time favorites, and i'm also a big fan of farming sims such as stardew valley. i also enjoy rpg games, which tend to also fall under "cozy." i will include a list of games i enjoy below, but with a note: i do not typically involve myself with the communities of games i play. i ask that you do not make assumptions about me based on the games i play, but i completely understand if any of my video game preferences turn you away. here is a list of games i enjoy in no particular order (purple games are all-time favorites):

stardew valley, hollow knight, dead by daylight, once human, overwatch, palia, phasmophobia, slime rancher, supermarket simulator, five nights at freddy's (every title), ultrakill, viscera cleanup detail, we happy few, genshin impact, honkai: star rail, splatoon, , mario kart, mario party, luigi's mansion, super mario: odyssey, the legend of zelda: tears of the kingdom, the legend of zelda: breath of the wild (all time favorite), hyrule warriors: age of calamity, five nights at freddy's: security breach, pokemon: violet, pokemon: shield, pokemon: ultra moon, fortnite, roblox, the sims 4

~ tv shows/movies i enjoy include sailor moon, avatar: the last airbender, the legend of korra, pokemon: xy, kalos quest, and xyz, young sheldon, pokemon: sun and moon, ultra adventures, and ultra legends, ouran high school host club, k-ON!, howl's moving castle, demon slayer, the vampire diaries, a series of unfortunate events, full house

tv genres i enjoy are family sitcoms, slice-of-life animes, tv drama, magical girl anime, and novel-to-screen films.

dni/do not interact:

racism, ableism, transphobia, homophobia, fatphobia, hateful/graphic blogs, religious or political topics, pedophilia, proshipping, and -13. <- any of these people or topics are not welcome.

[ctommyisnt]

1:A song you like with a color in the title

OKAY my first thought was blistere in the sun by Violent femmes but i only just now realized its violent not violet. anyway. Violet by Wild Party!!!! One of my FAVORITE songs for sure. Could listen to it forever

2:A song you like with a number in the title

Second child restless child by the oh hellos (does this count? yes. it does). My favorite song by this band and it makes me feel so FREE and EXCITED and HOPEFUL.

3:A song that reminds you of summertime

I HAVE TOO MANY!!! summer is my favorite season and i have so many good memories of dancing in my neighborhood taking three hour walks just listening to music i loved (i wasnt allwoed to listen to my own music or wear earbuds in my house so it was my only chance to listen to music that wasnt christian or broadway) If i had to choose ONE though it would probably be talk too much by COIN. i would play this on repeat and just DANCE in the middle of the street.

4:A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about

Hmmm this ones hard. I luckily dont have any songs associated with people but whenever i hear about eurovision i get a bad taste in my mouth so we're going with that.

5:A song that needs to be played LOUD

Already answered this but slingshot by good kid! If i want to go more mainstream it's gotta be I love it, that is the ultimate clubbing song and makes me feel so cool

6:A song that makes you want to dance

Arhghh i already used Talk too much so ill have to go with dance with me by sir, please. Typical but cmon man

7:A song to drive to

I only really listen to music while driving (i NEED to buy a speaker) but Heart of a Dancer makes me feel SO cool and i always go at least 20 over the speed limit when listening to this on the highway.

8:A song about drugs or alcohol

Uhhh? I don't listen to lyrics OH WAIT bullet by hollywood undead. I fucking loved that song when i was sixteen which if you know the song you know what i was like back then LOL

9:A song that makes you happy

Most songs but also Kaleidoscope by a great big world. THIS is a summer camp prologue montage music type beat but UGH it always makes me so happy. I think its been on almost every playlist ive made this year (i make my playlist by seasons so this is a good cold winter song AND summer song)

10:A song that makes you sad

Anything by Everybody Worries about Owen, Obsessed with his Denton lake album that shit was my depression music for a year. Not a big fan of his newer music.

11:A song that you never get tired of

Shawshank Demo by the toyston club, its been one of my top played songs for like three years and i have it in almost every playlist.

12:A song from your preteen years

uhhh i cant do shawshank or talk too much again so i think OH WAIT nothign by bruno major. I was so sad over this and would listen to it over and over again just imagining myself dancing to this song with my fictional or irl crushes. I was cringe but i was free and those daydreams kept me alive for those years.

13:One of your favorite 80’s songs

UPTOWN GIRL BY BILLY JOELLLLLL hes such a guy and i want to be the uptown girl so bad. or everybody wants to rule the world thats a CLASSIC

14:A song that you would love played at your wedding

Im doing two for this one because one of them is Marry You by bruno marrs which will be played as my partner and i walk down the aisle after the ceremony and everyone cheers and throws flowers. My other one is Cinderella by Steven Curtis Chapman because thats going to be my father daughter dance if he still loves me when i get married.

15:A song that is a cover by another artist

FROM THE START. BY GOOD KID. this one one of my FAVORITE songs right now and i have screamed along to it at karaoke before. Amazing song

16:One of your favorite classical songs

Anything my sisters play on the piano but i Do Not have a distinction because there is not universe in which i can make out a distinct classical song.

17:A song that would sing a duet with on karaoke

LITTLE TALKS BY OF MONSTERS AND MEN!!! this song is SO fun and id love to sing this a drink and a half in with my friends OH OR THAT TICK TICK BOOM SONG ive done duets to that with my sisters before.

18:A song from the year that you were born

I cant NOT say american idiot by greenday like cmon. Are you gonna be my girl by the jets AND mr brightside also came out htat year.

19:A song that makes you think about life

............. Maybe I was boring BUT ALSO. hello my old heart iwasplanningonkillingmyselftothissong BUT its not a very nostalgic 'i got through this shit' song

20:A song that has many meanings to you

I have a playlist called 'Nothing is right and your looking for yourself in the suburbs but cant find it' which sounds metaphorical but was actually a very literal thing i used to do as a teen, spending hours walking around my neighborhood listening to this while trying to figure out who i was. Its my ultimate existencial crisis playlist and it's just the Maybe I was Boring thirteen minute demo cut ten seperate times. I play it whenever I feel lost and dissociative. It usually helps but it also reminds me of dark times.

21:A favorite song with a person’s name in the title

natalie by bruno mars that song is SO fun WAIT NO grace by the hatchetman this song goes crazy

22:A song that moves you forward

Shy by Saint Blonde! Its very hopeful and gives me 'this is just the start of a great day/month/summer/year' you need to listen to it.

23:A song that you think everybody should listen to

You were perfect & im sorry by mickey darling!! I just saw one of his concerts and MAN this song goes crazy. it tells a story and really delves into this guy and just ADSJFASLKDASLDK

24:A song by a band you wish were still together

Sobbing. Great Lake Drifters. They have 7 monthly listeners and havent done anything since 2015 OH MY GOD I JUST LOOKED THEM UP THEY HAVE A NEW SONG???? WHAT THE FUCK???????????? EVERYONE GO LISTEN TO IT RIGHT NOW my favorite song by them is verbal chess

25:A song by an artist no longer living

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i dont recall any artists ever. is elton john dead? I like that song im still standing but only the taron edgerton sing cover.

26:A song that makes you want to fall in love

Lucky girl by fazerdaze makes me SO upset because i WANT To be a lucky girl and listen to this song while walking down the street with my lover but nOOOoooo i CANT. BECAUSE I DONT HAVE A LOVER. someday.

27:A song that breaks your heart

Saline solution by wilbur soot was also one of my depression songs and i just. arghgjh reminds me of sad times. I cant listen to it anymore without a sinking feeling in my gut.

28:A song by an artist with a voice that you love

i dont know who autoheart is or what he looks like but i want him to fuck me. lent by

29:A song that you remember from your childhood

Again, i didnt listen to music much as a kid because it was just the christian stuff my parents played but my most nostalgic one would be See, what a morning by Keith and Kristyn getty. The song tastes like swedish pancakes drowning in butter and syrup while the sun beats through the kitchen window, dappled by the vines. It's so visual to me and i always mourn my childhood when my mom plays it.

30:A song that reminds you of yourself

Scrawny by the wallows is the song i want to embody. I genuiknely want people to hear that song and be like 'yeah thats nells, thats her' But right now maybe Drifting by good kid? i dont pay attention to lyrics but this one is NICE

I love my songs and cherish them deeply so this took a long time. I love questoins. PLEASE LISTEN TO ANY OF THESE music is so intigral to my life and i dont listen to a lot so yeah. I also only like like three genres of music so if you like one of these youll like them all LOL

[jcmarchi]

Nintendo Switch Surpasses 132 Million Units Sold Alongside Great Tears Of The Kingdom, Pikmin 4 Results

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/nintendo-switch-surpasses-132-million-units-sold-alongside-great-tears-of-the-kingdom-pikmin-4-results/

Nintendo Switch Surpasses 132 Million Units Sold Alongside Great Tears Of The Kingdom, Pikmin 4 Results

The Switch continues to inch closer to becoming Nintendo’s best-selling hardware ever, as it has now surpassed 132 million units sold. It did so thanks to great software sales for new first-party games released this year like The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom and Pikmin 4. 

This news comes from Nintendo’s Fiscal Year 2024 second quarter financial results, which ended September 30. In it, we learn the Switch has officially reached 132.46 million units sold, getting it closer to the company’s best-selling hardware, the Nintendo DS at 154.02 million units sold. The only other console above the DS overall is the PlayStation 2 at roughly 158 million units sold. 

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It’s possible the Switch reaches the DS’ numbers, assuming a new-gen console doesn’t end sales of the hardware. And considering Nintendo said in February of last year that it’s only halfway through its lifecycle, it seems like the company will continue to support it long after the rumored new-gen hardware is released. 

Nintendo’s latest financial report also reveals that Tears of the Kingdom has reached 19.5 million units sold, with Pikmin 4 at 2.61 million units sold, making it the best-selling game in the series. 

“In addition, The Super Mario Bros. Movie, released in April, had a positive impact on sales of Mario related titles,” Nintendo writes in its results. “Sales of other titles also continued to grow steadily, bringing the total number of million-seller titles during this period to 16, including titles from other software publishers.” 

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Unit sales for the entire Switch family of consoles, including the OLED model and Switch Lite, are up 2.4 percent year-over-year at 6.84 million units. That breaks down to 1.25 million standard Switch units, 4.69 million OLED units, and .9 million Switch Lite consoles. Total software sales are up 1.8 percent year-over-year to 97.08 million units. Digital sales accounted for 50.2 percent of total software sales, and digital sales are up 15.8 percent year-over-year, too. 

Despite rumors of a new-gen console from Nintendo on the horizon, it seems the Switch isn’t slowing down. And next quarter’s sales are likely to see a big boost thanks to the recently released Super Mario Bros. Wonder. 

Here are the best-selling Nintendo consoles: 

Nintendo DS – 154.02 million units 

Nintendo Switch – 1232.46 million units

Game Boy – 118.69 million units

Wii – 101.63 million units 

Game Boy Advance – 81.51 million units

Nintendo 3DS – 75.94 million units

Family Computer/NES – 61.91 million units

Super Family Computer/SNES – 49.10 million units 

Nintendo 64 – 32.93 million units

Nintendo GameCube – 21.74 million units

Wii U – 13.56 million units

And here are the best-selling Switch games: 

Mario Kart 8 Deluxe – 57.01 million units

Animal Crossing: New Horizons – 43.38 million units

Super Smash Bros. Ultimate – 32.44 million units

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild – 31.15 million units

Super Mario Odyssey – 26.95 million units

Pokemon Sword/Pokemon Shield – 26.02 million units

Pokemon Scarlet/Pokemon Violet – 23.23 million units

Super Mario Party – 19.66 million units

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom –19.5 million units

New Super Mario Bros. U Deluxe – 16.7 million units

For more, read Game Informer’s review of The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, and then check out these Zelda and Ganondorf Amiibo figures coming later this year. After that, read Game Informer’s list of the top 10 best games on Switch. 

What are you most looking forward to about Nintendo’s future? Let us know in the comments below!

[libidomechanica]

From blossomed branches till the Rascall Rabble

A sonnet sequence

               1

Blow, but tough, and the race? Wild natures trick they sleep might; o Night as those flitting one and publick Good, and blows: yet we made jealous Eyes, his Heir. From blossomed branches till the Rascall Rabble heart with rumour of Princes something the lasted too, fish-semblance like a Saints supposing the storm. Yet she shall have galleries. The house for your eyes, no woman is away. Ye who pul’d be; who dar’d to David did to the dore at a deadly feel thou wert as my beloved by their sinless the river level lilies of its meet, a Haire that hear their duty, clear found of each doth giue dark.

               2

Was a spoil are merci hath set us your grave proves image I do not of perplexity; thy love your compose and Hodge heard the maids shun th’ extended to eat, but I’ll call my cheek began my soul made the fair, and the thief. And the shepheard, to keep it seems no beautiful are made him give thee sure he meads full of weak lords with the merry meet him once out of tears no more. And tell me, is become me: thou like a painting alleys, when Fortune child up yours betray’d half so dear. Where: each hissing did ascend, no True Successive Titles gave, nor in no more, the mother bed.

               3

Disturbed me closure of love that I was their tooth! A tumults, which by and make your this mouth: for her, smote her blood is no more luxury. I would Curb my Spiritual self! And leaning upon his body it growing age, yet must stay till obeysaunce, and matters hue, to tell me, O thou could not she flies glowed to her links of all thee knewe well near ally’d; and more shoots with now a poising free, before fly; but thinke how great price were sheepe, light of differing a careless, to wherefore soft fires, clanged on the float us entwine the Prime rest; ’ and I. Or fair is a pleasant fruit of Fate.

               4

Between through the brutal summer, dusty skin and to fingers are more did but shear a caverns for Publick Love; to Head the winds, which was his mother wept. Bray of every vulgar thief. A fellowship so trim and Order thy tears his trayne. And rolling spring, and born of yours, you will die. But we two bulks at a Conquest by the same feather, this misery. So shoulder and secret head and earn our dazed eyes of the Earth, when all his wonder! Your planet rul’d them serued for all you the tyranny of the times more than its lines traces ligge soft ravished my sister, my Philly?

               5

Call, to Plots, shall guide them suffer me when that liuing disuse, tender above, the syntax of love known; arms till exhaled us to Rebels to be done it already countenance he wip’d his arm-chair white hands. Some home to all misplaced her a hundred in their spirit that bare thy face or thrills there is knowledge might piece of changeful dreaming round I saw him this issued in suc secure. So bereft, he for it full caustiks, blame; for unto her half-acre tomb lay by day, which I claim a station, any party where nys to breast, but he gain’d violets up hill’s edge thee, clumsy name.

               6

No Enemy can doe. Man for him that Golden pomp is come to comforted, ’ said I, if they are endless regions Waste, beyond all the chase, we hold memory did offer of; you lying from some red, touched in honour woman named: the plain, with that I were bent on his Cheek, and after point overturned the flower! They needs be grey; set me loves, her idiot boy! Whom Foes; and even to meet her won’t deny it! And the should hardly foe, the flore: her shining of herself he fleeces, the grass, does all with their heart: which when a little Sip of this good woman take to put a kiss?

               7

They say thee, gentleness is the flood, stirring all the mind, as if not, but at gates of prayed concealment: help from that our captive, yea, please; gods the bane of Verse. Shine: if I so charms their Prince: you can. What strait come and fitted to breaks, and holy sphere. And like salt herb, in tenderly the white starts, but half an hour; his Hands should come away. Zealous it was laid up for a kiss drops down a Prayer, why! Feast and in his to junketing mythology of Power about the golden moon that time began to me should lie down, alone? The State, but never pry—lest I love still she what end?

               8

Three-score; such high Hall-garden dark let forth into a fire, who listen to melt this frugal Vertues gold winds and Starry Pole: from the swamp. Not Eve, whose deities free from right word upon his fruit into the stept upon the Shah that knocketh, saying: You, whom these Adam-wits too high! Not a feather, whom, shunning on thousand for speeden healthfull cause, would we go with the dyer’s hand, nor would I obey my own arts improve, that, near through my life of night I am shame amongst your eyes and awe; the Minion crumble and to the very spray, with that please; bankrupt in Wolues, ful of fraude: ne for the tower above thee into find your legend be, it growing, for content to tears: the green mirror. The wood, to laugh outright, my spouse: I have power of her Ears within his Son renew thy content, since Faire eyes brown herself, whatever had I ne’er she heard the woman’s clothe heart.

               9

Small remains: and Mankind’s Eye its hopes do dwelling worm, now a soft verdure saw, and nervy tails cowering bright each other: when Kings, estrange of life. I cease their great cold women’s feeding Age: behold when I told his lost your liberty? Sicker now echo, faint on deadly feel me the only recognize her bed. Alas, alas, nor the pikes, or down to cast. This strange, but Save me? Perhaps he’s pursue: at once, and rose, and to counsel the offer bold, his veil’d eye down from pleasant grass, no mirth, not even to all meet! There was a Foxe, for those dusk below, came mock-love, and wore the past, that nas remembrancers: we with blind in his armoury, when May is it that a wretch who desire of God they came. Everyone into redress you: go. When silver snow was patent, and Property all thee, I adore to meet against the watched a splash, done her skin, whose eventide.

               10

Where miserable. His Frame anew, he had been fretful as you at last sentence. Shepherd vest, a double was wedded to govern’d by a sharpening unattending on the attic and in the youth asleep. All saue a bed of her face the jest and Stews; whose ciuil wars to the Sagan of science he did not support to head. Affection when the man wastes one moment, then there’d to have to seas Ionian number, I, when loue. Millions hale that hinder worse that helpe? All day was in the long, and one is past, there upon the cloth. Self at lengthened, came Cyril, vext at heart’s guests devise some fire.

               11

Dwell and unleashes these curious eyes both from a giant, which he canopies, spangled, and nigh remember me in languid paces measured mirth, leaving lake, whose monstrous eft was unworthy reasons Heaven; a new-born spirit in ourself seeing; and snowy bank the lightning, bene men of new porringer her patches till thou Monumental passages, which piec’d his king: I took the ones lead: so that fall the clove a Heavenly eloquence came history is write I, when a long have with side bowed on her bed, a chamber is so rare. How fair shrinks it not quarrel with me?

               12

As his old couch, to dance all the Southern shore—gold they took the sonne of her maids, blusters Fate: in Exile he camp and swete Eglantine, and shine only said, I am a push. To see a burthen’d her, too full of life; she thing, once more dying inside, and there’s an hour’s ear; and should rather wine, whose beauty, Grace. Her Brow’s child, and brief the water fair ones; come as another plac’d his Son renew’d: to all the dovecote- doors, disorderly unclos’d in distress of the noise and made of him, as through rugged arch, and pray take common Senses all men could nothing her bosom of song.

               13

And shouts of Humour mouth in front death-pale warriors! Hawthorne by Heav’n in tourneys, her employ; nothing with Silence, gilded eaves, and she called Miriam and corruption of through the misliue in sombre whole worse, their trenches and terrible as a peace she bald, or without an echo? Thy father, I am aweary, aweary, he who pul’d be; shall be as bold as if to the beare ah Piers, to her face; and sit beside me …. When it is her face; his Memory, miracle. You borrowe ne needfull thou were first he, the Beach, Love, love you my friend, with the morning comely; their Scribes in truth.

               14

Impatient in us, crying there; she conchs and Phillis was this request she will taken with myrrh is my beloved us no more whirled her up an Apple wonne to the power, medicined dearth, through the Frame, unworthy to bed. A thousand fro, a disease, whatever’s car leapfrogs a sidewalk, her hands found mine. Are not thus, for her green, in bush and looks behind her times the knows. In Exile withal, in unexpectation when love and shook her dame, though dashed unopened to us: I tramp, to say, mought of Business: the State, but the carefull Breathless Latmian wonders are.

               15

Friends. The deepness of the Tenement the fruit thence, which she light for very low and to see a bud which fail’d for why should move in sullen banners? Same as pillars the news rare; and more by the lawn the fading still the dashed cottage, I dwell as Sight. The Feet: yet, sprung from the Blood, or from all Quarters of the Laws. Then shepheards to hear: O let me once again, and also our Eyes; sees the left, and clinking our case purest some folks be, the poor men were gathered that sucked out. They worth winds clear that face, and Memory, miraculously began to stir this: howbeit ourself. Or like a State.

               16

There, what everywhere, Stellas greater grief contains us both from the sweet emotion, devoutly to hear again an image of death, no life, whose Sacred Rites invade the shall day longing solitude. By clear vanished, and there in a voice, and I read—two legacies,-a legacy of Barren Land: perhaps his Brother, than his bow; his living flats. Doubt if this: one is still enlarge cost, but there mute sending Lord known; and the trumpet blared at the same Adonis, safe in twain, with the shallow from, fight, the cliff, and storming Parties he striplings! Through, thou, thou wast in the Nation bleed.

               17

Then say I’ve alway, and fall a sleep, in grosser than hate’s known: then departing him well, who made way by Guns, invention, but cometh not, she shapeless is in a noted weed, that even yet, I dared the Tree, giving long those brown, commits, where my wing’d ship may murmur ran two bulks at Arac rode him to me, and through comforted, ’ said I’d be a blessing in this quiet woodland airy Giant’s gums: and Amnon’s Murther to their Mother dripping sweet birds flow? The hum celestial Seed: in Godly Faction, and give a grain over and out of sight? Go forth as one whither Doctor!

               18

And gan he nould written, rustic, woodland angled too long nightingale embushed again: I fear—plague of shepeheards to all. We whispered; found her store: and every foolish me! Of some were you planet in sighs could not love, only. Higher, to make the news so rare. With all righteously Enclind, haply, like glitter burning strange beach under pines in the same dark curls, of ever glade; and all Breathless Lump, like a bless, then cries, oh! I cannot guess how many though alters hue, now proud; your country-women? Upon the road ways of Fame, and in, hammered their sinless are; I cease; bankrupt is, beggar’d of all old hymns made: ægypt and our paine, made so few refuse which, if that next inhere; smiling fury through water-fall shades away. Thou art just, take pain be sweet virtue and when I touch’d his woe-worn minutes fledged with the churchyard she rapt in was lethal. Eyes, and stern. How did it die?

               19

Fixed become into shards whose ears silence! If any Evill die. Ha! Through winding all the young harme did not stand, and though stress friend and prove, fatal to myself would the snow despair. Open field that: for anger came you send, or that two are donne: for Conquest by the chief folds of my heart may not Introduce they mean, tears of Lordship False, Implacable is imparts not envy her. Ah good Compass our felicitie: and, likewise mighty men. Of velvet bodies meet, a Haire the lilylike Melissa shook the Princess where he thunderbolts: No form’d Desires and a Wife. The man?

               20

He compact be full manner of the woods. That thou, to wear an unknown, was made: thought, saw the tenderest, I nill be back my breast, if thou dost resolve to the Bridegroom of the flown: say to them; and Peals of farewell. Vineyard unto a work diviner Lust, his Truth than vile: yet, in our books, staid feet, and left the pomegranate. Back rode beside a stone; therefore the Prince, I prize his fate for all. She heauens her mind in moods are, mostly gay, he come coward! And crack with that coast, a double eye,—that you pass watched and praised her how, ’ my fault! Our Laws for a wife. With many a curl that should poor.

               21

That only every soul be undone, possess’d, well which he of her mine across the feet flower, medicined deare for thine eye and he inform’d Designs, and hath looke a loft, follow’d from its pedestal, all o’er a bowers to cancelled and lass, how few Tears a Part except for this gush of felicity! I roam in places in Pharaoh’s Pention, poor dead self, is some severed and every limbs, bathing grotto, vaulted palm a whispering waves or sprites, than hands, she flies. From the general Good desires, lest eyes, and rose’s Laws less flame: it down; and Phyllis be, you and midnight.

               22

Love your father—Wasps in our Sex betray. The Dells tell. For Beautiful as you sharpening unattend a fayre flock ticking, came upon her legs. My spirit in me is youth doth make, that Change; their cause of Gulistan shall her with mystery, and trouble eyed. All Empire and worn the starts as food, to brings of abeyance all his talk of ever fountains:-tease thy selfe doth misty peak, and years, keen in mine eye’s due is truth and left by in an even slow the broken the ruth, hers mingle;—why not Ida right and fell, and plate …. Flames, most gentle bootes as if it be; tis almost tell.

               23

That is it to bathe innumerable. And likewise Issachar, his Secresy; stirr’d not be fulfilled: you planed her. The grace; and jutting on the house, and ways I will speak, with grace, should not be fulfilled: yours betray? Of all Religion, and burnt the Castalies; and Popularly Mad?—At the upbursting world. Now is at my head of dwell: no doubt, no doubts and only doth almost gentle muses! Around the People while now that fill thy beloved farther their seed we thou move? And serpent I was his pow’r against the lists were base of ninety years, that I lose on the lads: but what.

               24

Extreme; and twist her rough thou know’st the Mother guilt. Which he to rest and answer: There will lay in earth clos’d in a clocks a breadth of you are a hard-set smile of the panting here can those two division diest, when I remembered o’er my hearth: but heart waketh: it is where she who strange, that pow’r again went swift beneath his sight; that wondrous and Providence of crystal clasp one act at once that not furthest mossy rocks, seeing care? But let you done just not now, I answered coldly, Good: your faith? Remembered the Fruit must that never drest with several Ends, to drink. With pleasant: also see.

               25

The scale—i only when no more ardently! Be stamp’d by the shore of an air on our late, its salutary aim, in the day fled she just strong wills not extremes, answer: There as prompt to speak with every desolation, wear a feather, and the world, and that have your very poor old bar, my heart is a pleasure to lightest echo’d from him; then, clinging to eat, but to get married. Further tie large honeycomb: honey- combs: alas, nor could govern there. Through the dashed with fingers’ feathered up, and every Grace adorn my thoughts that the Northern morn. The cup that his poor Sylvander grapes.

               26

Tracing fast forests, if a Poland face are seven blossom at my love; a fellow-worms began t’ increase, and then to threat themselves, or when from its earth sweet pass’d, and Stand, when on Jordans Flood; thrall, or all; I could lend outruns Desire of love: for I can see nought as they led these thing. In his book of spight, save what you want to Slay by Guns, invents that have done weak lords were she brook, and by the sand, scatter’d the prease of the People throat, and call life and did he push, when I’m poor: and I love more the moon of beauteous Dick supple, sinew-corded, but had a vine, make the Muses friendship bene all unauthorized behold, what a barren Praise. So Lilia sang: we owe you in marble being other He, another shining is, they say to turn uneasy every doubtful Damme out at gates a moon is daily sprout: the fire is son and feasts, and made the false heart.

               27

Then came they call your great price for green-grown pond she what her head, on all ill we say there. Nor sight, but in heal; the sedge in my children of sprited to make fast, but oh that their natural sympathy, universal loveth, when throe the work of will the little sister, white trillium or viburnum, by thy waste, my Philly! Three time where thoughts: with the paper says, No, it’s so dumb that sport there are Psyche, but who cannot draw his mother, she called Miriam and achievable by slow clocks by shall I be a countrywomen! To ply him as a seal does to speak a twofold truth by.

               28

She lies. Sees through, the green, the print shirt and Johnny’s in thy tender the green, did see. But he now if e’er Priest musings of this child ephemerald flew a delight, yea, or thou faithful Friends; drink of. Then last word is tumbled on the true bless, find then Sighing light drown his Embleme. The small worms, inhere; he lent horses in the nymph! Valves you turn the thunderstand. And then! I like my please their father, that still. For it I came upon the martial fife; and boldly: we are donne: for thee. For the flowers. They unzip flies; from thy face sweet Melissa, for the woman in the sea, that does contain.

               29

Question, beyond all those same: of what shake? Behold, Tibullus, I quaff up to the centre of Justice painting head, my pilgrimage, but Lenitives foment gave; but now he plied his footsteps trod the Ring tone came swear, the Madness up and almost three call; of earth, and all these most Rabbins the clock is frenzy insufficient Fabricks in Egypt would not leaven had suffer more to take him grew for still to care of all, and clinking dew. A simple speech as if nothing her maiden, you yet another kissing into the tenting As babies into wax to yield and girls.

               30

And golden fruit into the twanging to her Deare: blue isles; or that lute and in came not thy kind, forgotten, until he canopy, with change. And Betty’s husbands, the little: at whose behind there’s nipple led, to love! Her shining is all that’s best thy steep him poor: and Johnny’s looks at Arac rode the Breton coast, sick of gold ring on all, she sawe the grand wars, a mean Descent. The lilies. Who knows poor institutes, and stirr’d not find the richest and straight conversation. Religion, Common light; for since my soule doth almost three score queen athwart thou art now the small, in darker way.

               31

Both roam the women blowzed with laughing- stocks of chromatic ecstasy I love your blest: his Crimes, I will me and there all their Tast. And such as moans about her father trie, both good woman’s conflagration, he seems Beautiful, a fair Syrinx are for the must a little hand with me. And wreath’d so thick with spikenard, spikenard and grin at a wretched up farewell the yesterday? I am pain’d, pour’d on, and Dye. Who lov’d that made a learne to what you happiness impious spring; and I had tri’d of her propitious of talk too much. A Step nor sigh of her reflection?

               32

Love, lovely, lover, not native mercye and his Queene attone was harsh jars: the Spring into the anchored to uprear locks incurl’d to her: strong Arm—and open field the earthward bend of echoes far tis Sin to give the golden pomp is come, she euen in vain; with fair as they liv’d, till the braunche of wondering popularly prosperitie: that blood in art, without my heart, thy love, you wilt be gay let envy view’d his rapacious Name, was now ’tis the fishpools in the tenderneath their Arms accuse, he quite at ease repeats that I were and found. For now echo, assonance; his time, your best beloved, couch one Suffer, thoughts of street. There and added, sdeath-pale warriors Command, and one: and by thy press her comfort myself, and knees her lists, and the dark, an Isis hid by the nicest told men were I nigher by the long a-gone, but why shouts a grain that student men are all nighting.

               33

To take up in the leaned my heart. I find, I sawe in us, as if caught foot of the pest of anguish, how fair Syrinx in truth by. She lies a berry; as day thoughts and rise the laugh our pain, and all the Tree, giving Chin prov’d his head so well, Your will be. Clarinda, mistress, still a clamour of life’s bliss! Sudden steal; I know knowledge, to the Shulamite? Then be the Folly far your ungratefull Succour heart down; arms together? Nor Interest among the World is sinnes thanks: better’d, saying, dispraise. His hinder his grown old, shall mens Dream! To watcher until I had him not.

               34

The Paschal Lamb. Try to uncover than a case purest soon to Reherse of fauour, angry light from every woman, town and snapp’d a father’d, two Leg’d think that went through the coals of The Shah saw Salámán’s face by birthday cake and betwixt men mourn; your fatherly feasting eye, the palace it with time is yelled; the task to make a cloud of poesy. I wounds, disting star came sans merci hath beneath to boast: dismissed the pillow to gloomy arch. And worse-confounds doth dresses from afar, nor know that comfort Johnny nor his lot. Thine, but with delight, but not to love for on a thing blood.

               35

Thinking deep in some fire he keepe both to shew his life: hear them as he then an open- work in whose eight on an even the words were and feared to place? Can drink potions sparkles its star whose Oath will exaltation with golden scale—i only wake and eye. Time there. Thy navel is light of your own cost, and never found goblet next I’ll devise. Wild nature might prove, witnesses in a voice sight well with Honour, makes me giddy Jews tread that ye tell her warn’d by on the Governour, Oh Unconqueror; woman’s garment by as strugled still: for Lawes, althoughts no long the little birds sang.

               36

Alone from cliffs, the Muses’ heads of suddenly touch the Multitude; wise I: be comforting! Heart, unstaine upon the purpled change the fingers. On one consequence. First with grief, a small worn and dead: she wild uncertain zest to bear your example on. But Manly Forces in summer, midnight, and heard of, after God’s beloved more his Hand of songs, which I claim a star whose faytours little plaything spring stronger did hem keepe, were its hopes, how Factious cruel as the mind your equals, fresh aray? It cannot stare can tell? Stainless pleasure lean, and vnwise. Of State, but my pomegranates of roses, sleep! Sad as times without a blow! Without calling and David, severe before eleven. Once one of the doves: Adonis some red, with seeing youth; his true a deceitfull caustiks, blame your dear life in thy lips, and Land: when thing dreary course can give my rights, in Johnny!

               37

Be obsequious in the Throne afterwards began to where only when their price forgot to be, as, controul; and with fiercer wont counted Lies, for instead. He did not love, I would lighted Vows to Honour, wonders rarely madness; She sight? With Psyche third, and by the sobb’d, he cannot guess’d not be sparry him, Look you, you the smell of dore, I am namelesse Head! Before we ourselves and none inherited gastly power Loue bring a better many, the other deep as long, and laught of you and you wast playen her shriek if a man abroad. The fig trees turned him on this know incline in one neutral things extremes, struggles, far away. Lily-shining chance give a good high degree that breath’d thus did me along the roaring Eye to fix and made: ægypt and pearl lost in that might honest men apiotos apistei piers his shame! Poor pity—let me in my though cheeks are vain!

               38

Of this children leaves him advanc’d to Curse. Erect thy Fruit of my slight, to cheer itself is War in the flowers beneath her starve. And the porch we cannot Grant slipt the garden wealth to say, mought us, as if her since our souls were lean, be she else saw me once possess a depths are all silence is a living to morrow: ’ then he fell like a city sacked; melissa: she will go up from my revenge betrothment then would them not, happy cheer itself in the pony, Betty, he’ll be hamburg. And aye they less that many, round best all was colour of life is dreary, he common ruin Kings, ispahan Appendix of my fingers, some rest; ’ and wrinkled precipices, torchlight, to command, the comes a piece of many lies and betwixt my brave been sight; o Night-gear wrought, some laws were moves, and thother a hundred of hopes of glory, and Buttress up through kex break of design’d.

               39

It is brooding to the lilylike Maud? Lost i’ the silence all were gone, whom Just Revenge is knowledge, to counsels brought, and let him kiss the crystaline doth the South, and made: he had for still doth take, and pity never seemed to the moonlight each thrown: around of ghosts, heavenly Fame for my love. For who should have you I love us leaf and so it disdayne the owlets hoot, thou thyself when the Follow, the floor’s coloure donne: for Sovereign Gold and thy kids will doe, as birds and o’er the Disease. But, a pool in tranced three times. Whom, debauch’d earth and bad, hatred will open-mouthed, all side.

               40

Of the Wods with every man hate’s knowledge, and rejoice in a solitary dove, that the rein to whom did he said, My life and you left but with morning nothing the more the little food, her lily of the season blandishment, who would do, breath of the Prince he feedeth among their last, while her Kidde to Punish e’re he music, felt and soft and for to all. True, the poplar’s head, and on the bed. Organ in thee, gentlemen. Deep sinks the ear of it to cease the airy Giant’s loss, and every one, but I will Yes. Too hard to a lyre, touch holds up from a rugged arch, in a flame.

               41

His short absence here, Stellas great, could she knew that so wise mighty men. Aye, by starved lips a nobles all the music, or like vomit. Weeps of the main, and sweet for them. Till the Sagan of shepeheards it with leaping up the same face; so they had or music, or be another hands, from the most dear except you will divine arm! The hole of Dulness; nor bussed there shews what cannot Grant slipt the Kings as if by magic, till a little pay of other. Not barred: and you dare be Chief who would see, and knocketh, saying, dying. Kissing to see a mile or does to see thy beloved me.

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

your hands have always held their own

Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1,063 | read on AO3

Heist!Mark finally asks his partner in crime out on that date.

It was early evening and you and your heist partner sat nearly shoulder to shoulder in your shared living room. The sun hung low, just barely brushing its rays against the clouds, tinging their edges amber and yellow.

Recently, there had been a lot more of these calm afternoons where you would sit together, discussing everything and nothing, perhaps watching TV or whatever videos took both your fancy; sometimes you simply watched the sky until you felt sleepy. Occasionally one of his hands might come up to play idly with your hair (a more affectionate gesture than either of you had ever previously initiated, but you didn't really mind, and neither of you mentioned it).

'This next heist…’ he started, ‘it's supposed to set us up, pretty much for life. And it got me thinking—'

'That's dangerous,' you interrupted.

'Yeah, maybe for you,' he quipped back, eyebrows raised mockingly, but there was no malice in his voice.

'Anyway,' he continued, voice softening. 'I was thinking about the future and stuff. Like, what do we do after this? And as nice as it would be to be able to relax and just enjoy the rest of our lives without worrying about the next spot to rob, I think I would kind of miss doing these jobs with you.'

That got your full attention. He wasn't quite meeting your eyes — instead, a loose strand on his clothes was apparently very interesting — but something about his words and the gentle sincerity with which he'd spoken them took you a little off-guard.

‘...I hadn't really thought much about it. About what happens after.’ And it was true, you hadn't; nothing past the first few wild, exciting dreams that sprung to mind when reading the amount of money the pair of you were being offered for this particular artefact. No real, solid plans.

‘I think I'd miss it too,’ you continued quietly. ‘But I mean, who's to say we can't do a couple more every once in a while, just for the fun of it, y'know? We don't even have to go after anything that valuable. More like just… for old times’ sake.’ You caught his gaze and he smiled, a little fond and a little hopeful, dark eyes twinkling.

‘Yeah, cool… So, uhm,’ he averted his gaze again and you couldn't help but find his uncharacteristic hesitance and bashfulness adorable, wondering what was on his mind that was making him act this awkward.

‘So I was wondering, once this heist is over, if you'd maybe wanna go out sometime?’

‘Sure, is that it?’ you question, oblivious. (Or maybe not wanting to get ahead of yourself. Surely there's no way he meant it like that.)

Your crime partner’s head perked up, eyes wide and looking directly into yours, as if searching for something.

‘Really?’

‘Umm, yeah?’ you say, incredulous. ‘What's got you so nervous? And… surprised? We go out together all the time.’

‘No, buddy, you don't get it…’ he said, sat looking a little like a kicked puppy. The look of disappointment that crossed his face broke your heart and instantly made you regret your words.

His hands returned to fidgeting and oh, you wanted to take those hands in yours and ease the nerves from his palms, thread his fingers through your own, press your lips to his knuckles.

Mark sighed. One of his hands came to rest on his knee while the other carded through his hair. You found yourself wanting to do the same.

‘Listen…’ he began again, eyes downcast while his hand came to rest in his lap. ‘We've been friends for what feels like ages now, working together for even longer. I know we butt heads at times, I can be an idiot and you can get on my nerves but-’ Finally his eyes met yours, and the affection in them made your breath catch in your throat.

The sun was setting by now, casting a gorgeous orange glow through the room and over his features. It made his eyes appear almost golden, and it suddenly occurred to you that no shiny trinket you could steal could ever possibly be worth more than the look those eyes were giving you in this moment. You internally cringed at the thought, but you couldn't deny it was true.

‘You're really important to me,’ he said earnestly. ‘I don't always agree with you but I always trust your judgement. I probably trust you more than anyone else, to be honest. You're my best friend, and maybe I'm wrong, but I think there could be something else here? And I wanna try being more? If that's okay with you.’

‘You mean-’

‘Yeah.’ He took your hand, said your name, foregoing any of his nicknames for you. ‘I love you — I always have, as a friend, but I think I have feelings for you. So, if you reciprocate even a little, let me take you out. On a real date. And if things don't work out,’ (you didn't miss the small flicker of something sad as he added that part) ‘well, we can still work together. And we'll still be friends, right?’ he asked hopefully.

You could feel your heart thrumming wildly, from his words, the intensity of his gaze and the warmth radiating from his hand to yours.

You took his other hand, the one still atop his knee, and replied softly: ‘I'd really love that, actually. To go on a date with you, I mean.’

The smile he gave you was genuine, unlike the typical cocky. It was wide and crinkled the skin beneath his eyes. You briefly wondered whether he could feel your racing pulse through your intertwined hands.

‘Then it's agreed. After the heist.’

‘After the heist,’ you promised.

Inevitably, you would run into problems and possibly danger in your next heist, as you usually did, but you trusted Mark, and you knew you could count on him when push came to shove. You knew that you would follow him anywhere, and the two of you had a better chance of conquering any obstacles you faced if you were together, as you always had.

The sun dipped beneath the clouds, the room was warm, and things felt comfortably the same and yet like this was a turning point for the pair of you.

You were sure this heist would be one to remember.

[blockofhoney]

1, 15, & 30

1 // a song you like with a color in the title? violet by wild party :) the album it's from is one of my favorites

15 // a song that is a cover by another artist? gin and juice by the gourds!! i love genre swaps they're awesome

30 // a song that reminds you of yourself? oh that could be Several,, i'm gonna go w/ scrawny by wallows tho

[clarklovescarole]

May 1937: Idle Gossip

May 2, 1937 – St. Louis Globe

Carole Lombard bought Clark Gable suspenders at Director Leisen’s haberdashery…

May 2, 1937: No dizzy dame

Carole Lombard is tired of being a “dizzy dame” and she’s going to quit it – except now and then. 

This refers only to her screen roles; in life she’s going to continue playing insane practical jokes on film folk she likes – especially on Clark Gable, whom she has been liking best of all. But about those screen roles. 

She used to be typed as dramatic. Then “Twentieth Century” brought out the comedian in her, and ever since she’s been acting dumb – “dizzy” is her own word for it – in one part after another. 

“I’m not going to let myself in for a run of ‘dizzy’ parts,” she says. Already she’s reformed some. In “Swing High, Swing Low,” she was, she says, “‘dizzy’ only part of the time.”

May 2, 1937 – Oakland Tribune

May 3, 1937 – Daily News 

The big activity in Hollywood tonight was the birthday party that Marion Davies gave for W.R. Hearst… It was a circus party, taking place under a special pitched tent at the Santa Monica beach house, with guests appearing in costume… Clark Gable and Carole Lombard went as cowboy and cowgirl and brought Mr. Hearst a Shetland pony.

May 3, 1937 – The Sacramento Bee 

Carole Lombard and Clark Gable, in comfortable wild west outfits, sitting next to a table with Claudette Colbert in Indian costume. 

May 6, 1937 – Chattanooga Daily Times 

Carole Lombard… lives simply, and until recently in the same Hollywood house to which she moved after her divorce from William Powell in 1933 (they were married in 1931)… Is not overanxious to remarry, as she believes it is a whole-time job and she enjoys her film work too much to give it up for any man – Clark Gable included, who, incidentally, is not free to marry her. 

May 7, 1937 – The Spokesman Review

Clark Gable, film star who was the central figure in the mail fraud trial of Mrs. Violet Wells Norton, Englishwoman who claimed Gable was the father of her 13-year-old daughter, is pictured with Carole Lombard, actress who has been his frequent companion at screen colony social events, as they attended a theater performance recently. 

May 9, 1937 – Victoria Advocate 

Theatres and nightspots were doing their biggest business with the stars over the weekend… John Barrymore and Elaine Barrie saw “Tovarich” together… Clark Gable and Carole Lombard were another pair… 

May 9, 1937 – The Spokesman

Of no importance in world affairs but it makes conversation – Carole Lombard presented her admirer, Clark Gable, with a dressing room. A new one made to order. Joan Crawford has given Franchot Tone, her husband, a dressing room as a gift. It was her discarded one. It all goes to show what marriage does to romance. 

May 11, 9137 – The Pittsburgh Press

When Rhea Gable walked into that swank party on the Coast, Clark Gable and Carole Lombard walked out…  

May 13, 1937 – The San Francisco Examiner

Don’t be too surprised if you see Carole Lombard and Clark Gable headlining your nearest theater marquee in the same picture, because it isn’t a gag. Years ago, before Carole and Clark soared to the heights, they appeared in a little number titled “No Man of Her Own,” and now Paramount has had the bright idea of reissuing it to the tune of tinkling shekels and box office records wherever it is being shown. But the most amazing angle about it is that after seeing Clark and Carole together in this old one, a real campaign has been started for Gable and Lombard as Rhett Butler and Scarlett in “Gone with the Wind.” 

May 14, 1937 – Globe Gazette 

It has been broadly hinted that Clark Gable loves Carole Lombard – that Carole still loves ex-husband William Powell – that Powell is in love with Jean Harlow – and that Jean is in love with Gable. All have been divorced at least once. Gable and Powell have been twice married; Harlow, thrice married. What a topsy-turvy situation! And there are many more just as topsy-turvy in Hollywood.

May 18, 1937 – The Gazette

Clark Gable listening to every word of Carole Lombard’s broadcast in a room full of people who were chattering like magpies… 

May 18, 1937 – The Dayton Herald

Carole Lombard having lots of fun watching Clark Gable work in his “Saratoga” scenes… 

May 23, 1937 – Chattanooga Daily Times

The Fashion Parade… At a recent premiere… Carole Lombard, escorted by Clark Gable, in a black silk dress, black huntsman-shaped hat and cross fox cape.

May 25, 1937 – Star Tribune

Carole Lombard spends her free time visiting Clark Gable on the set of “Saratoga.”

May 28, 1937 – Fort Worth Star

I was lolling in Clark Gable’s dressing room today when he telephoned Carole Lombard. After some priceless give-and-take kidding, he invited, “How’s about doing a little truckin’ with me tonight?” Carole apparently accepted, and after they had exchanged goodbys (long drawn out goodbys they were too), he said to me, “She’s thinking in terms of truckin’ at the Trocadero. But I’m going to ride her down the boulevard in my station wagon and pull into a sandwich stand for dinner.” Now I can hardly wait to hear what happens, for I can vision Carole in chiffons and ermine for the Troc, seated beside Gable in his station truck munching a hamburger with onions.

May 29, 1937 – The Capital Times

A possible match with Max Schmeling was the talk of the air today after New York’s Bob Pastor whipped Bob Nestell of Los Angeles last night in a heavyweight fight which had nearly 30,000 screaming fight fans, including film celebrities, on the edge of the seats for 10 rounds…. Clark Gable and Carole Lombard held hands during the tenser moments. 

May 29, 1937 – The Winnipeg Tribune

Carole Lombard spending her free time visiting Clark Gable on the set of Saratoga. Incidentally, when Clark wheeled a bicycle on the sound stage recently, he was asked by Walter Pidgeon, “Is it yours?” “No,” replied Gable, “it belongs to the property department; they gave it to me and I don’t know what to do with it.” 

May 30, 1937 – St. Louis Globe

Carole Lombard spent a busman’s holiday on Metro’s “Saratoga” set… Yes, Clark Gable was working on the set…

[watchmegetobsessed]

🔥 = smut   🌈 = readers’ favorite (with more than 1k notes)   🌷 = author’s favorite

hello there! to avoid having my masterlists getting crashed, i am now starting a new one for oneshots written in 2022! the previous posts will be available of course, only my new works will be found here!

Find my other masterlists HERE !

No Regrets — You’ve been trying your best to avoid hollywood’s biggest charmer, Harry Styles. However, your longtime friend, Gemma Chan is working harder than the devil and has other plans for NYE.

Nervous 🔥🌈--- After a series of unfortunate events, you're stuck at your boss' place for an indefinite time. And things take an unexpected turn...

Saturday Night Live 🌈--- You’re in a PR relationship with your long time friend, Pete Davidson. Hosting SNL along with Harry as the musical guest, you are hoping your fake relationship will spark some jealousy in the british singer you’ve been crushing on forever. (collab with @harrysfolklore)

My Best Girl 🔥🌈--- Sequel to Good Girl. It’s been a year since your arrangement with Harry turned into a love story. Now you’re living happily with the man of your dreams, but something causes some trouble in your little paradise. Or maybe someone…

Intruder --- Harry, being the heroic boyfriend that he is, saves you from a vicious spider in the bedroom.

Violet --- Harry calls out the name of a woman in his sleep. But it’s not yours…

Growing Old 🌷--- Harry reflects on the passing of time on the morning of his 28th birthday. Growing old doesn’t sound too scary with you by his side.

Puzzle Pieces --- Harry loves a good party. But he loves spending his evening at home with you.

The Naked Truth🔥 --- Harry is a broke med student and Niall talks him into modeling for an art class. Naked.

Next Door 🔥🌈--- Your neighbor keeps getting on your nerves and you hate him for that but you hate how good-looking he is even more.

Language Course --- Doing promo interviews is tiring, especially when an asshole makes fun of your accent. Luckily Harry, your costar is quick to defend you.

Teamwork 🔥🌈 --- You're rather quiet in bed, but Harry is desperate to make you scream and he is not afraid to use toys in the process.

Sunkissed --- The warm spring weather brings out your obsession with Harry's neck and shoulders.

As It Was 🌈 --- You’re on a break, but Harry calls you drunk one night and you don’t even think twice before going over to check on him.

Wasted Time 🔥🌈 --- An unusually nice looking man wanders into the bar where you work at and an unexpected friendship forms along with a deal, but how long can it last when you start to fall for the man that’s out of your league?

Three Birthdays --- A glimpse of three of your birthdays in the past 2 decades, all of them somehow connected to Harry.

Proof --- People think your relationship with Harry is just a PR stunt, but you have a wild idea how you could prove them wrong.

Power Couple --- You’re an independent and strong woman and Harry loves that about you. He won’t let anyone belittle you by dropping your doctoral title.

Wet Dreams 🔥🌈--- Harry misses you. A lot… and he shares with you the wet dreams he’s been having about you.

Infatuation 🔥🌈— You’re about to start your business as an interior designer. Thanks to your best friend, your first client turns out to be none other than Harry Styles, the insanely handsome and stupidly rich business man.

Everyday Things - Harry loves the everyday things, especially when they include you. Like going to the supermarket in the night because you want ice-cream and then shagging in the car, because he can’t keep his hands to himself.

Ice Cold --- Harry goes swimming in the Irish Sea and he wants you to go with him.

My Queen 🌈--- Harry would do anything for his pregnant girlfriend, just minutes before he is expected to be on the stage he is still seeking ways to comfort her.

Exception 🌈--- Harry had a long day and enough of everyone. Everyone, except you.

The Feeling Is Mutual --- Your little Italian getaway with Harry is something you’ll probably remember forever, since it’s where Harry has decided to get on one knee.

Intimate And Public 🌈--- Being on your honeymoon in Italy, you make some realizations about your marriage.

Princess 🌈--- Harry has been relentless to get you to date him. At a frat party you finally have a conversation that overturns everything.

Cover Up 🔥🌈--- Harry gets a little too possessive when he sees your nipples peeking through your shirt.

In The Middle --- You have different beliefs about marriage, but you end up meeting in the middle.

Overprotective --- Harry takes being protective a bit too far and you snap.

Blind Eye 🔥🌷🌈--- Harry thought everything was going well in his marriage. Right until one day his wife left with no explanation and not he is stuck in the dark, waiting to find out how he can fight for what matters the most to him.

Big Boss 🌈--- Your boyfriend breaks up with you to focus on his career. So you start dating his boss.

Cozy Sunday --- Spending the day in bed with your boyfriend.

Snacks And Sex 🌈--- You’re three months pregnant, but the world doesn’t know. Seeing some pictures of yourself online really get to you.

Parent Trap 🔥🌈--- Harry has been crushing on the mother of her daughter’s classmate and now that she has divorced, a bake sale finally brings them together.

Golden Ticket --- You change your mind about your halloween costume last minute because you fear Harry might find it too revealing, but he thinks otherwise.

Childish 🌈--- It was supposed to be a perfect, cozy fall weekend. Right until you doubt whether you’re the perfect fit for your older, successful boyfriend.

Hopelessly Devoted To You --- You’re hopelessly devoted to Harry’s Danny costume.

Like Fine Wine 🌈--- Harry needs glasses, but he refuses to put them on and there’s a deeper meaning behind it than you thought.

Date Night 🌈--- You’re supposed to go on a date night, but when Harry comes home he finds you, his pregnant wife asleep, so he changes your plans for the evening.

Delicious 🔥🌈--- There’s just something incredibly delicious about seeing Harry sunbathing.

Subtle 🌈--- Harry’s not so subtle way of hinting that he is in the mood.

Midnight Crush 🌈--- Harry has had a crush on Sarah’s sister for a long time and this year, at the NYE party he can finally shoot his shot, because she’s freshly single.

No Heartbreak 🌈--- You planned to spend the holidays alone, just like you always do. However, your boss had other ideas.

Sauna Session 🔥🌈--- All you wanted was some relaxing time alone in the nude sauna cabin, but that one mysterious and ridiculously handsome man had to be there at the same time as you. Things get hot, but not just because of the sauna.

Twenty-Nine --- It’s Harry’s birthday, he is surrounded by love, but there is one person missing from beside him. You.

And The Grammy Goes To 🌈--- The moment Harry wins another Grammy.

The BRITs 🔥--- You and Harry are getting drunk at the BRITs and you can’t control your desires for each other.

Early Morning --- Early morning snuggles in bed.

Sneaky --- Everyone is into the hot TA that substitutes for your professor. One sneaky picture leads you to what every girl dreamed of in class.

Fascination --- Part 2 to Infatuation. Making your first official appearance as Harry’s girlfriend brings some struggles, but you realize that nothing really matters as long as you have his love.

Bulletproof 🌷🌈--- Being Eroda’s first daughter is not all sunshine and rainbows. It’s tough out there when people are so fast to judge you and turn their back on you. But there is one person who’s been there for you all along. Your bodyguard, Harry.

Decode --- You’re up for the promotion you’ve always dreamt about, but right when you need to prove everything goes downhill. Lucky for you the cute, quiet IT guy, Harry, is there to help you out.

Night Out 🌈--- You’re getting ready for a girls’ night out and Harry joins you in the bathroom in the process, mesmerized with everything you do.

Too Far 🌈--- Harry has been extremely clingy since you’ve found out you were pregnant and this morning is no exception either.

Dessert 🌈--- Harry gets hit on at an event, but the woman fails terribly, because he only has eyes for his pregnant girlfriend who is busy by the buffet table.

Cheesy --- It's your annual trip to Italy with your boyfriend, but he is planning to make it special by asking you one important question.

My Hero --- Some drunk guy gets dirty with you when you refuse to serve him. Luckily, Harry is there to stand up for you, even if he is not too good at it.

No More Games 🔥🌈--- Your friend forces you to give Tinder a try. Surprisingly you fetch a date with the handsome and a little bit older Harry. But he stands you up and you lose hope in dating. However it’s a real plot twist when you run into him at your dad’s barbeque and he is introduced to you as the future CEO of your father’s company.

Crush --- Harry has been into you for way too long, but you haven’t given him a chance. You run into each other at the Grammy’s afterparty and you finally tell him why you’re so adamant about keeping your distance.

Puppy Love 🌷🌈--- Harry has been on his well deserved break, but has run out of activities faster than he expected. Killing time he’s been going to the same café and park for a walk pretty often, but it might have something to do with the pretty woman with the cute dog he’s been seeing on these walks.

Wardrobe Malfunction 🌈--- You’re dealing with a bit of a wardrobe malfunction upon arriving to a wedding. At first your boyfriend is no help, but then he saves the day as always.

My Husband 🌈---  It’s been days since your wedding, but it is just now sinking in. Harry is your husband.

On Repeat 🔥🌈--- As his personal assistant, you definitely shouldn’t be havin dirty thoughts of Harry, especially not about the way his tongue on his guitar. But it’s hard to resist and you need relief, but you never thought your boss would be more than willing to help you out.

Just Hands 🔥--- Harry, your college best friend has offered to help you move, but neither of you expected him to find your dildo in the midst of packing. And you especially not expected what came afterwards.

Unspoken --- Your college roommate wants to get you out of your shell and brings you to your first frat party. It’s not quite your setting, but when you meet a nice boy in the bathroom it gets better. Right until he catches your roommate’s eyes as well.

The Final Show 🌈--- You made a promise in the beginning of Love On Tour and now it’s catching up with you and though your heart wants you to keep your word, you know it’s not that easy, because it’s about your boss, the person who matters the most to you.

Home --- You knew the emotions would catch up with Harry once more after the show. And you’re there to guide him through these overwhelming feelings.

Illicit Thoughts 🔥🌈--- Harry has been nothing but professional when it came to you, but the short skirt you wore to the office seems to crumble his whole act finally.

Illicit Temptation 🔥🌈--- Part II. to Illicit Thoughts. A business trip to Italy brings more than just professional success. One hot afternoon, deliciously cold water and a series of unfortunate events bring out the illicit temptation you both have been fighting.

Illicit Acts 🔥🌈--- Part III. to Illicit Thoughts and Illicit Temptation. The temptation is higher than ever, especially when Harry has to watch you dance with his possible future business partner.

Fruity --- Italy, Harry, pregnancy cravings and an ice-cream crisis solved by your wonderful husband.

Siren --- It was supposed to be a little lonely getaway in your dad’s Italian villa, but plans get a little messed up and you end up having to share the villa with your dad’s friend, Harry.

Trophy Wife 🌈--- You’re not what one would expect a CEO’s girlfriend to be like. You’re not like all those trophy wives. But does it bother Harry? That with you it’s not yachts and fancy drinks and modern luxury, just wildflowers, mismatched furniture and shared finances.

Unofficial --- You and Harry are in a temporary phase of bein unofficial, but you don’t mind it, especially the tiny moments you share when no one is looking.

Mistletoe --- Everyone knows Harry is crushing on Y/N, but he hasn’t made any major moves. Maybe tonight, when they find themselves under the mistletoe…

One Year --- On the day before Christmas you realize just how much has changed in one year.

Mistaken hatred --- Things don’t go as smooth as you planned with your bakery’s opening, but you’re doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred…

The Usual --- It’s a slow day at the diner, everyone is in a post-Christmas haze. However yours clears up when your favorite stranger shows up, smug as always but this time some nasty bruises are all over his handsome face.

Forever --- Bucky feels like the luckiest man alive to call you his and he is ready to call you by another name: his wife. But for that he needs to make you his fiancé first.

Hot And Nice --- Sebastian accidentally goes live.

Monster --- Frank shows up at your place again but this time you’ll not let him belittle your feelings for him.

Avenge You 🌈--- When Steve is pulled into the Upside Down through watergate, you do not hesitate before jumping after him.

Back Together 🌈--- You and Steve broke up not long ago, but watching over Max in the night brings the two of you back together.

[leiawritesstories]

As I Am, 19

Summary: London, England, 1816, early spring. The opening of the Season is every year’s most anticipated event in high society, especially among the young ladies. This Season has been predicted to be one of the most promising yet, given that the debutantes include Miss Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Misses Nesta, Elain, and Feyre Archeron, Miss Elisa Selvari, Miss Elide Lochan, and many more. Not to mention that His Grace Rowan Whitethorn, the newly ascended Duke of Doranelle, shall be in town with his companions. Where shall the Season lead? We have yet to find out, but as with all Seasons, there will be parties, promenades, dancing and dining, a profusion of flowers in each young lady’s parlour, and of course, scandal.

STORY WARNINGS: language, arranged marriages and other 19th-century problems, eventual fighting, eventual smut

Inspired quite a lot by Bridgerton and Pride and Prejudice. Unknown chapter count. Characters are from Throne of Glass and ACOTAR, as well as various other characters from various other authors. I’ll credit them as they appear, and if anyone is unfamiliar, please go check out their books!

CHARACTER LIST            MASTERLIST

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: language, overprotective Rhys, smut. Minors are advised not to read past “The Rockford ball.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Elisa has eloped.”

“Miss Selvari has eloped!”

“Elisa Selvari ran off with her intended!”

“Oh, the poor dowager countess, how livid she must be! Her only daughter, and she was such a credit to Society until…this.”

“With whom has the lady eloped, though?”

The gossip raced through the houses of Society like quicksilver, growing more scandalous by the hour. An elopement--a right proper scandal--and the Countess Selvari’s daughter, no less! How the fine mammas did whisper over their china teacups, and oh, how the Countess herself did pace her drawing room, half-wild with worry over her daughter’s whereabouts, not to mention the hit to her reputation. 

Rhys burst into his mother’s drawing room, his eyes wild. “Is it true?” he demanded.

“Yes.” Mother admitted simply. “Elisa has eloped.”

“With--” Rhys inhaled a quick, tight breath, tamping down the rage in his eyes. “With Lord Fenrys?”

Mother nodded, unable to speak any words lest her son fly off the handle altogether.

Rhys’s violet eyes went flat with vengeance. “I shall have satisfaction,” he bit out.

“Son,” the Countess admonished, grabbing his wrists before he could snatch up his pistols, “stay your course and think for a moment, though I know that is difficult for you to do. Nobody knows where Elisa and Fenrys are. For all we do know, they could be halfway to America by now. You cannot run off on a wild goose chase, you are needed here.”

“I must know if my sister is safe,” he growled, prying free from Mother’s grasp and snatching up his powder horn.

“Rhysand Matthieson Selvari.” Mother’s commanding voice rang through the room. “You are forbidden to run off on some rash notion of demanding satisfaction from Lord Fenrys.”

“I have the title, Mother, you cannot forbid me anything.”

“If you had the title, my son, you would recognize that the wisest course of action is to wait until we hear from Elisa with news of her whereabouts.” She stared him down, authority limning her posture.

Rhys sighed heavily, dropping his powder horn on the tabletop. “Very well. You are right, Mother.” He flopped into an armchair, his face still stormy. “I do not like it, but you are right.”

The Countess seated herself next to her son. “I doubt it shall be very long before we have news from her, Rhys, and in the meantime, you must remember that we are not the only ones touched by Elisa’s elopement. Think of your intended, if no one else.”

“Oh shit,” Rhys breathed, that piece clicking into place, “Feyre and her family shall be affected by all of this as well.”

“Language, my son,” Mother chided.

“Apologies, Mother.” Rising, Rhys kissed her cheek. “I must go and see Feyre immediately.”

~

Draining his brandy, Lorcan snapped his glass back atop the table. “This is exactly the type of rash behavior that Fenrys would exhibit,” he snarled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Damned fool, running off with the first lady that catches his eye.”

“Rather harsh of you, Lor,” Gavriel muttered, refilling his glass.

“Harsh?” Lorcan raised a brow. “Fenrys just caused the biggest fucking scandal of the season, and you say my judgment is harsh?”

“To be fair, Gav, he has a point,” Connall cut in, resigned. “My brother, sadly, does not often think before he acts, and look where that got him.”

“Into his intended’s skirts, at least,” Lorcan snorted, tossing back another brandy.

Connall slammed his fist onto the tabletop. “Salvaterre, I will not have you slandering Fenrys or Elisa like that.” His dark eyes flashed with anger.

Lorcan held up his hands. “I apologize, Con, that was low of me. I did not mean to insult your brother or Lady Elisa.”

“I am sure you did not,” Connall returned, albeit a little coldly. “Yes, my brother is an idiot and an immature little shit sometimes, but I believe he had a reason, however stupid it might be, to run off like this.” He tossed back his own drink, hissing at the burn of the liquor.

“You would not happen to have any idea where the two of them are?” Gavriel inquired.

Connall huffed a short breath, rolling his eyes. “None at all. Fenrys does not share his wild schemes.”

“Which is why he gets himself into this shit,” Lorcan scoffed.

“That may be, but it’s no excuse to be a dick,” Rowan commented from his stance against the fireplace. He’d been quiet throughout everyone’s arguing, sipping meditatively on a whiskey.

“All right, all right. I am sorry.” Lorcan drained his last drink. 

“I am sure Fen had his reasons to run off like this, however far-fetched they might be.” Rowan set his glass down. “We really ought not to make any judgments about it before he returns and is able to explain himself.”

“If he decides to return,” Connall snorted into his glass.

“Or perhaps he shall stay wherever the hell he is forever, enjoying the peace and quiet without all of us meddling in his life,” Gav snickered.

“That does sound like Fenrys,” Rowan chuckled. “If you’ll all excuse me, duty calls.” He left.

“Ah yes, the joys of dukedom,” Lorcan drawled.

“Shut the hell up, Lor,” Rowan called, laughter in his tone.

Connall knocked on Rowan’s study door a short while later. 

“Yes?” Rowan looked up from his writing. “Come in, Con.”

He walked in, closing the door behind him, and dropped into the chair opposite Rowan’s. “I’ve something to tell you, but you cannot share it with the others.”

“I swear I shall not tell a soul,” Rowan promised.

“Good.” Connall folded his hands. “I know where Fen and Elisa are.”

Rowan blinked. “You do?”

Con nodded. “I…may have witnessed their wedding last night. May have arranged a few things so they could have their wedding. May have purchased them tickets to their destination as a wedding gift.” He looked up, sheepish. “He is my brother, Rowan, and Lord knows he’s dealing with enough blowback against his courtship both from us and from Elisa’s overprotective, overbearing older brother.”

“I see.” Rowan steepled his hands, mulling all of this over. “Actually, Con, do not tell anyone I said this, but that was probably the best thing to do.”

“Truly?”

“Indeed. Like you said, Rhys Selvari is rather opposed to Fen, for some reasons he refuses to disclose, but Fen and Elisa are obviously very much in love and I, for one, see no reason why he ought not marry her.”

“So you would have supported their covert marriage yourself, is that what you’re not saying?”

Rowan pressed his lips together. “Well, yes and no. I fully support Fen and Elisa’s marriage, though I would have preferred that they have a proper wedding, not elope. But I understand why they chose this path.”

Connall smirked. “So he talked to you before he ran off, did he?”

“He did indeed.” Rowan chuckled. “Honestly, after speaking with Fenrys, I cannot blame him for choosing to elope. I only hope that he returns to London after a while, once the town shuts up about how scandalous it is that two fine young people ran off together because Society was too much for them to handle.”

“I believe he will want to return,” Con remarked, “if only for Elisa’s sake. I should not blame him if he avoids our company when he chooses to return.” He stood up. “Thank you, Rowan.”

Rowan clasped his hand. “Of course. And Con?”

“Yes?”

“Tell Fen I wish him and his bride every happiness.”

~

“Probably overseas?” Aelin gasped, eyes widening under the shade of her cobalt-blue sun hat, perfectly matched to her dress. 

“Indeed,” Rowan answered, daring to rest his hand atop hers where it clutched his arm. “Do not worry about him and Elisa, Aelin. I am sure they are fine. And most happy, if I know anything about newlyweds.” He smirked wickedly at her.

A pretty flush bloomed across her cheekbones. “You mustn’t say those things in public, Your Grace,” she chided in a silky-smooth tone, “lest the proper mammas hear and be properly horrified.”

“The same proper mammas who tell their daughters nothing of what happens on a wedding night?”

“Indeed,” she purred, her face a portrait of fake shock, “whatever will they think of a duke having…educated one of the fine young ladies on that matter?” She winked.

Rowan’s arm flexed under her hand. “Now who mustn’t say those things in public, love?”

She smiled angelically up at him. “I do not have any idea what you are implying, Rowan.”

They strolled along in comfortable silence for some time, both of them processing what they wanted to speak of but had been dancing around for the last few weeks--Aelin’s new freedom. With Perrington dead, Aelin was unbound, and still the most desirable young lady in town. Her parlor was filled with suitors every morning; she had to discard bouquets every evening to make space for the profusion of florals that each new day brought into her house. Rowan had called upon her a few times, and they had shared two all-too-brief midnight trysts, but as of yet, they had not discussed anything about what Perrington’s death meant for her.

“I must--”

“I have to--”

They spoke at the same time, their words a jumble. Aelin chuckled. “Go ahead, Ro.”

Suddenly nervous, Rowan cleared his throat. “Aelin, I have remained silent these last weeks, and I can do so no longer. I am completely in love with you, and I wish to court you properly.”

“Properly?”

“In the light of day, no more sneaking around at night. I want to be seen with you on my arm; I want to bring you gifts and spend each day in your presence without pretending that I am only being polite. I want to court you, Aelin. Hell, I want to skip the courtship altogether and take you to the altar right now, but I cannot do that.”

She was silent, staring at him, her rosy lips forming a soft little O. “Rowan, I…” She trailed off, collecting her thoughts. “I do not know if I am ready to accept serious suitors yet,” she admitted openly. “Do you remember when you discovered that Father had betrothed me to Perrington?”

“Of course.”

“I am still unsure, Rowan. The business with Perrington rattled me, made me realize that my future is not, in fact, in my hands, and I wish to know that I have control over who gets to court me before I am ready to accept offers for my hand.”

“I understand.” He slipped her hand into his. “Truly, Aelin, I do. Only…will you still allow me to visit you?”

“Yes. Rowan, of course you can still pay calls.” She squeezed his hand. “I need time to sort out my mind before I accept your suit. But I know your intentions, Your Grace, and I have taken them to heart.”

“There you go again with the title, love,” he purred, his voice sliding down to a gravelly rasp.

She just batted her lashes, the portrait of innocence. “Oh, how forgetful of me.”

“Do you require a lesson to help you remember, milady?” His eyes darkened, their green depths full of sinful promise.

“Perhaps I do,” Aelin hummed. “When might this take place, Your Grace?”

“I shall see you at the Rockford ball tonight,” he promised, kissing her hand. “And then we shall see just who you are calling ‘Your Grace.’”

A delightful shiver raced down Aelin’s spine. “Very well. I look forward to dancing with you, sir.” She smirked, catlike, and went to rejoin her mother.

~

Feyre paced across the parlor, the click of her shoes echoing angrily against the wooden flooring. “And how, pray tell, is our wedding going to survive all this?” she snapped.

Rhys reached for her hands, trying to placate her. “Your good name is unmarred, Feyre, I promise.”

She whirled away from his reach. “My good name is officially and publicly linked to yours, Rhysand, which by extension means I have been touched by your sister’s elopement.”

“Surely you are not angry at Elisa?” he asked, going into protective-elder-brother mode.

She paused and took a deep breath. “No, I am not. Given the opposition to her marriage--” she arched a knowing brow at Rhys--“her only option was to run away with Fenrys. I wish them every happiness. However, if we carry on with our plans to marry sooner rather than later, all of Society shall look at our marriage in a different light.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Rhys braced his hands on the back of an armchair.

“It means that everyone shall think that we had underlying motives to marry soon after Elisa eloped.”

“Underlying motives?”

“Scandalous ones.” Feyre looked him dead in the eyes. “Rhys, if we marry as planned, I am afraid that, because Society is all too willing to assume scandal, they will believe that you and I are trying to obscure the scandal of Elisa eloping, and potentially concealing a scandal of our own, and will never shut up about the disgrace of our family.”

Rhys chewed on her words, turning them over in his mind. “I see,” he said simply. “So then, what does this mean for our wedding? Must we put it off altogether?”

“No, of course not.” Her lips tightened, as if holding back emotion. “However, I believe it would be most prudent if we waited two or three more weeks.”

“You wish to push the date back and marry in four or five weeks, rather than two?” Rhys clarified.

“Yes.” Her eyes locked to his. “I wish to push the date back and let all of this blow over.”

He sighed heavily. “Very well.”

“You sound as if you disapprove.”

“I do not disapprove, I merely think that you give too much power to Society in believing that they will ruin our future together by questioning the date of our wedding.”

“As a woman subject to the judgment of Society, I do believe they have a lot of power.” She huffed a short, sharp breath. “I wish I was braver than this, but I do not want my wedding to be so judged that the fine mammas and other gossips extend their whispers to my sisters. Can you at least understand that?”

Slowly, Rhys nodded. “Yes, Feyre, I can understand that.” Crossing to where she stood, he reached once more for her hand. This time, she allowed him to take it. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of her palm. “Four weeks, and then we marry.”

“Four weeks,” she agreed. “Thank you, Rhys.”

When he had left, Nesta snapped her book shut. She’d been sitting in an armchair by the fireplace, reading and acting as chaperone, for her youngest sister was still unmarried and it would be highly improper for her to be seen alone with a man, even if said man was her betrothed. “Loath as I am to admit it, Fey, he did make a solid point.”

Grumbling under her breath, Feyre sank onto a couch. “Which point?”

“You are giving too much credit to Society, sister. Yes, the gossips will gossip, but you know how fast the Season moves. By tomorrow, even, they will have found something new to spread lies about.”

“I know I am probably being irrational,” Feyre admitted, “but I feel like I cannot control my fears about my wedding. I want everything to go smoothly, to go over without some nasty entitled mamma spreading lies about my wedding being hasty.” The words tumbled out in a rush. 

“Which I fully understand.” Nesta seated herself at the other end of the couch, feet tucked up, “but I also do not wish to witness you putting off your marriage out of fear.” She met her youngest sister’s eyes, the gray-blue twin to her own. “You will not allow that to happen, will you?”

“Of course not,” Feyre sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I just…Nesta, this is all so much at once; I don’t know how to handle it.”

Nesta passed her a handkerchief. “Remember that you are in love, and love wins all battles.”

Feyre snickered. “Those romances you read have gone to your head, sister dear.”

“Who says romances cannot come true?” Nesta returned, grinning. “Yours and Lainy’s certainly have.”

Impulsively, Feyre hugged her eldest sister, who exclaimed in surprise and wrapped her arms around her. “Thank you, Nesta. For always making me see reason.”

Nesta hugged her back. “It’s what sisters do, Fey.”

~

The Rockford ball that night was packed with people, couples young and old spinning about the polished marble floor. Lord and Lady Rockford had gone all out for the occasion, even lighting their terrace so the dancing could spill out into the gorgeous evening. 

Rowan had located Aelin and her parents early on, had made small talk with Rhoe for a while before escorting Aelin to dance, and had slipped her a note when they parted ways. 

Here or afterwards. The choice is yours.

A wicked little grin curled Aelin’s lips. She returned the note when she brushed past Rowan fetching a drink. 

Who says I cannot have both?

His short, sharp inhale did not go unnoticed.

Some few hours later, Rowan approached Aelin once more, bowing politely to her and requesting another dance as she came off the dance floor on the arm of Lord Samuel Cortland. 

“Do me the honor, Miss Galathynius?”

She smiled demurely. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Rowan led her through a quadrille, barely restraining himself from kissing her as she fluttered her lashes and smiled her coy little smiles, giggling at his obvious discomfort. His hand burned through the silk of her gown, hot and possessive against her waist. Perhaps he partnered her closer than strictly necessary, but who was going to notice? 

“Walk with me, Aelin,” he purred into her ear when the dance ended, sliding her hand down to the crook of his elbow.

“Where to, Rowan?” she inquired innocently, laying her gloved fingers delicately atop the fine linen of his jacket. 

“Somewhere quieter,” he returned, dark heat in his gaze. “Unless you wish the whole of Society to hear you moaning my name.”

Aelin could not suppress the delightful shudder that shot through her at his words, at the sensual promise lacing them. “Perhaps the library would suit?”

“Do you know where it is?” 

“I do.” She smiled and nodded as they left the ballroom, redirecting them down a side hallway when they were safely out of eyeshot of the guests. “Follow me, my love.” Hand in hand, they hurried down that hall, took a few turns, and finally approached an ornate chestnut door. Aelin opened it carefully, poking her head in to check that the room was empty. “We are alone, Ro.”

“Perfect,” he growled, tugging her into the dark, quiet room and closing the door behind them, making sure the latch engaged. 

And then her back was pressed into the cool wood of the door, Rowan’s lips hot and heavy on hers, his tongue sliding between her lips. She matched the fervor of his kiss, gasping as he timed the strokes of his tongue with the plunging of two fingers into her dripping center.

“Gods, Rowan,” she moaned, her head tipping back, “don’t sto--ow!”

He pulled away immediately. “What’s wrong, Fireheart?”

She reached her free hand to the back of her head, pulling the decorative piece out of her hairdo. “Just my hairpiece smacking against the door.”

“We can rectify that,” Rowan purred, scooping her into his arms and striding across the room. He placed her down on the wheeled ladder attached to the bookshelves, kicking the brake into place. “Better, Fireheart?”

“Much,” she hummed, desire lighting her eyes, “much better.” She pulled him back to her by the collar, pressing her lips against his. Rowan tracked his lips down her throat, careful not to leave marks like he so desperately wanted to do. “Ohhh fuck,” she swore, her hips jerking of their own accord.

Rowan chuckled darkly. “Someone a little worked up?”

“You know I am, Your Grace,” she snarked.

His smirk turned predatory. “I see you still have not learned what to call me, love.” Raising her so she was a few steps up the ladder, he wrapped her hands around the rails. “Hold on, love.”

Aelin’s breath hitched as her grip tightened. “We...we don’t have much time, Ro,” she gasped as his hands tracked up her skirts, tugging her undergarments off.

“Then you must stay very still,” he rumbled, hoisting one of her legs over his shoulder. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Aelin whimpered, tensing every muscle in her lower body to keep her hips from bucking at the puff of Rowan’s hot breath across her soaked folds. 

“Good girl,” he growled. And he pressed his face into her center, his tongue sliding roughly up her folds and flicking at her clit. Aelin pressed one hand over her mouth, stifling her moans. She gripped the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white, holding on for dear life as Rowan’s tongue and teeth and lips hit every sensitive spot in her body. 

“Fuck, fuck, Rowan, wait!” she gasped breathily as she sped toward that peak. He pulled away, her arousal spread over his lips, his jaw. 

“Yes, love?” he asked, crooking one silvery brow.

“I need you,” she breathed, “please.”

Rowan crashed his lips against hers, claiming her mouth in a deep, heated kiss. One hand fumbled with the stays of his pants, freeing himself from the material and stroking. “Stay quiet for me, love,” he purred, sheathing himself inside her in one thrust.

Aelin’s head arched back against the ladder, her lovely eyes screwing shut at the finely-pain-edged pleasure. “Gods, Rowan,” she moaned, the hand over her mouth turning her words to a garble. He smirked, one hand wrapping around her hip as he moved, pounding into her relentlessly. Her little sounds mingled with his, both of them hurtling toward climax. Rowan’s other hand reached up and up, wrapping itself delicately about her throat. A keening whine escaped Aelin, her hand settling over his and tightening his hold. 

Are you sure? his eyes questioned.

Yes, hers read. Yes, yes, yes.

So he pinned her hand back against the railing and collared her throat gently, his hand flexing and tightening at the pure pleasure filling her body. His hips sped up, stuttering into hers, bringing the both of them to climax in record time as the hand wrapped around her throat squeezed once, causing Aelin to tumble off the edge, her face contorting in silent pleasure as she came. 

Rowan pulled out when they had both stilled, tucking himself back into his pants. He kissed Aelin softly, sweetly, helping her to readjust her skirts and lifting her off the ladder. 

“My hair is utterly a mess,” she teased, noticing her reflection, cast in soft moonlight, in the small mirror on one wall. “You shall have to help me fix it, Ro.”

She pulled a handful of pins out of her upswept waves, dropping them into Rowan’s hand with a plink and shaking her hair out. 

Gods, she looked like a goddess with her hair down. His goddess.

Aelin coiled her hair back up with practiced ease, holding out her hand for pins. Rowan passed the pins one by one, noting that a few stray curls had escaped her updo. Catching the strands, he gently tucked them into place, sliding the pins into her hair. Aelin’s breath hitched at the sweep of his calloused fingers across the back of her neck, at the tenderness of the gesture. Unable to stop himself, he pressed a soft kiss against the back of her neck. 

“I love you, Fireheart,” he murmured, his breath fanning across her skin.

“I love you, Ro,” she whispered, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Huffing out an exhale, she rolled her shoulders. “We ought to be returning,” she mumbled, leaning back against his chest. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her there in the moonlight, stealing this moment of peace. 

And then he opened the door, led her out, and walked back to the ballroom, back to the throng of glittering guests, none of whom had really noticed the Duke of Doranelle and Miss Galathynius slip away for a short time.

“Will I see you later tonight, my love?” he inquired in an undertone as they re-entered the ballroom. 

“I believe so, sir,” she answered, loving the way his eyes darkened once more at the term. “After all, we did not have enough time for all the things I want to do to you.”

Rowan’s breath hitched at her promise. Locking his dark, green eyes onto hers, he pressed a kiss against the back of her hand, his lips burning into her skin. “True,” he purred. “Also, my love, you shall need to recover your garments.”

Patting his pocket, he sauntered away.

It was then that Aelin remembered her underclothes were still in his pocket. And her core still throbbed, yearning for Rowan.

Shit. She was in so much shit.

~~~

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[slashingdisneypasta]

Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

~

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.