#tv stylish couple

[mariocki]

Night School (Terror Eyes, 1981)

"There's been another killing."

"Mmm."

"That doesn't seem to surprise you."

"When man kills for the sake of killing, there's no reason why he should stop."

"Do you really believe that man can go out and kill, just like that?"

"Why not? You see, animals kill when they're hungry or when they're threatened. But man is the only animal who destroys his own kind for the sheer pleasure of it."

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[winterlico]

PARADISE AT THE DOORSTEP — SJY

ᯓ★ pairing : roommates!Jake x fem!reader / fluff , makeout ᝰ.ᐟ

2.393 ｡ living with Jake was supposed to be easy—falling for him wasn’t.

feedbacks 𖹭 reblogs / O2 edition

You were never the type to believe in fairytales.

Not that you were against love—love was fine. Cute, even. The idea of it was nice, but it was just that—an idea. Something that lived in romance novels or those cheesy Netflix dramas that your roommate, Jake, would pretend not to enjoy watching with you.

Jake, your incredibly handsome, annoyingly charming, sometimes-too-loud-for-the-morning roommate, who also happened to be your best friend.

It wasn’t supposed to be complicated. When you first agreed to move in with him, it was purely out of convenience. You both needed a place, the rent was cheap, and despite your friends' raised eyebrows, you assured them that there was nothing romantic about the arrangement.

Then Jake started doing things that made your heart stutter. Like making you coffee just the way you liked it without you even asking. Or throwing an arm around your shoulders when you both walked home late at night. Or—worst of all—flashing that infuriatingly soft smile when he caught you staring at him.

And now, here you were, standing at the top of the stairs, nervous beyond belief because Jake Sim, your roommate and best friend, had asked you out on a date.

A real one. With flowers and everything.

You weren’t sure what possessed him to do it. Maybe it was the way your fingers brushed too often when you reached for the TV remote. Or how you two had started talking about “your future dog” as if you were already a married couple picking out a golden retriever puppy.

But last night, as he leaned against the kitchen counter, twirling his car keys between his fingers, he looked at you and said, “Let’s go on a date.”

You had laughed at first, thinking he was joking, but when he tilted his head, waiting for your reaction, you realized he was serious.

So now, you stood at the top of the stairs, heart racing, as you saw Jake through the window. He had actually driven all the way from town just to pick you up. He wasn’t just waiting—he was leaning against his car, hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet like he was nervous.

Jake Sim. Nervous.

That was a sight to behold.

Taking a deep breath, you walked down the stairs. Your dress, a soft ivory piece with delicate sheer sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, flowed lightly with each step, the sunlight filtering through the fabric as if it were made of something ethereal. The bodice fit snugly, accentuating your shape in a way that made you feel elegant yet effortlessly comfortable. Your dark hair cascaded over your shoulders, and you could feel the warmth of Jake’s gaze trailing over every detail of your appearance.

And that’s when you noticed it—the way he was looking at you.

Like you were something unreal.

His eyes followed your every step, and he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

He looked incredible too. Jake had dressed simply but impeccably—an off-white knit sweater that hugged his frame in all the right places, tucked into beige trousers that fell just the right amount of loose. His black curls were slightly tousled from the wind, and his sunglasses hung casually from the collar of his sweater. Effortlessly stylish, effortlessly him.

When you reached the bottom, he grinned. “Wow.”

You raised a brow, trying not to let your knees give out. “Wow?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look… really, really good.”

You smirked, playing it cool even though your insides were a mess. “So do you.”

“Yeah?” He took a step closer, and suddenly, the world felt a little too small. “Good enough to be your date?”

“Mm.” You pretended to think. “I don’t know, Jake. I might need some convincing.”

His grin widened before he reached into his backseat, pulling out a bouquet of flowers.

Your eyes softened. “You actually brought flowers?”

“I told you it was a real date.”

You took them from his hands, the scent of roses and lilacs filling the air. “Alright, Sim. You’re off to a good start.”

Jake opened the car door for you, dramatically bowing as you got in. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

The restaurant was warm and intimate, nestled into a cozy corner of town you’d never been to before. String lights draped across the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the wooden tables, and soft jazz hummed from the speakers, blending seamlessly into the chatter of couples and friends enjoying their meals.

Jake pulled out your chair for you, the gesture sending a pleasant warmth through your chest.

“Look at you, being all gentlemanly,” you teased as you took your seat.

He smirked, settling in across from you. “Hey, I’m trying to make a good impression here.”

“As if you haven’t already.”

Jake’s lips parted slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to say that. A hint of color crept up his neck, and for a brief moment, he was quiet. Then he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he reached for his glass of water. “You always know how to get to me.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly, as it always did. Between bites of food, you talked about everything and nothing—the latest movies, the barista at the café who always spelled his name wrong, the time he accidentally locked himself out of the apartment and had to bribe the neighbor’s kid with candy to let him use their phone.

But beneath the laughter, there was something else. Something unspoken yet tangible in the way his fingers toyed with the edge of the tablecloth, in the way your knees brushed under the table and neither of you moved away.

As the night deepened, Jake leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. “You know,” he mused, voice softer now, “I think I knew.”

You tilted your head. “Knew what?”

“That this would happen.” He exhaled, eyes flickering over your face like he was committing it to memory. “That I’d fall for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The air between you tightened, charged with something undeniable.

“Jake—”

“I don’t need an answer now,” he interrupted gently, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. “Just… let me do this right.”

And as he reached across the table, lacing his fingers through yours, you realized he already was.

After dinner, Jake suggested a walk through the park, and you agreed without hesitation. The evening air was crisp but pleasant, and the glow of street lamps gave the park an almost dreamlike quality. The two of you strolled side by side, hands occasionally brushing, until Jake abruptly stopped.

"Hold on," he said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Stay right there."

You raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a picture of you," he said with a grin. "You look too good tonight not to have proof."

You rolled your eyes, laughing, but still, you let him. He took a few steps back, angling his phone just right. "Alright, one more," he muttered, tilting his head. "Perfect."

You crossed your arms. "Do I get to see it?"

He tucked his phone back into his pocket. "Maybe later."

You playfully swatted at him, and he chuckled, dodging your hand before taking yours in his own as he led you forward once more.

As you continued walking, the distant sound of music filled the air. A small street band had set up near the park’s fountain, their instruments blending into a lively melody. Couples and passersby had gathered around, some swaying to the rhythm, others simply enjoying the performance.

Jake turned to you, eyes glinting mischievously. "Dance with me?"

You blinked. "Here? In front of everyone?"

"Why not?" He was already pulling you toward the open space.

Laughing, you let him, and soon the two of you were twirling between the musicians and the crowd. Your dress fanned out gracefully with each movement, the fabric catching the light as it floated around you. The soft ivory layers swirled like petals in the wind, brushing against Jake as he spun you effortlessly.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you—your smile, your laughter, the way your hair cascaded down your back, catching the glow of the streetlights. It was as if he was trying to capture this moment forever, to etch it into his memory so he would never forget the sight of you like this.

Jake spun you around, making you giggle, and as he pulled you back into his arms, his grip lingered, warm and steady. He watched you intently, as if he was memorizing the way your breath hitched, the way your eyes sparkled beneath the city lights. And in that fleeting moment, he knew—this wasn’t just a dance, it was something more.

You felt it too, the way his fingers brushed against the small of your back, grounding you in a way that sent a pleasant shiver up your spine. The music wrapped around the both of you, and for a second, the world faded, leaving only the two of you in the middle of it all.

As if catching the contagious energy, more people joined in—some dancing in pairs, others moving on their own, completely immersed in the moment. The night air buzzed with joy, and when the song ended, the entire gathering erupted into cheers and claps.

You were breathless, your chest rising and falling as Jake grinned at you. "That was fun."

"You’re insane," you murmured, still smiling. "But yeah, it was."

A few steps later, Jake paused at a small vendor stand lined with trinkets and accessories. He browsed through the selection before picking up a delicate hairpin with a small silver flower.

"Here," he said, stepping closer. "Hold still."

You barely had time to react before he was tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and securing the pin in place. His fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, and when he finally pulled back, he studied you with a soft smile.

"Perfect," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart did a little flip, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you. "If this is your way of distracting me from the fact that you still haven't shown me that picture, it's not working."

Jake laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. One thing at a time."

After he carefully placed it in your hair, you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward a small boutique nearby. "Come on, it's my turn now."

Jake raised an eyebrow but followed without protest, watching as you scanned the shelves thoughtfully. Your eyes landed on a thin silver necklace, simple but elegant—something that would suit him perfectly.

"Here," you said, picking it up. "Hold still."

Jake blinked in surprise as you moved closer, your fingers brushing against his neck as you clasped the necklace around him. Realizing he was too tall, you huffed in frustration.

Jake chuckled, bending down slightly to give you better access. "Didn't think this through, did you?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight back a smile. "Just hold still, Sim."

He grinned but obeyed, watching you intently as your fingers worked at the clasp, the warmth of his skin lingering against your fingertips. He glanced down, touching the cool metal resting against his skin.

"Looks good on you," you murmured, stepping back to admire it.

Hand in hand, you finally made your way toward the cozy restaurant Jake had chosen for the evening, the gentle hum of conversation and soft jazz music inviting you inside.

The walk back home was quieter, filled with unspoken words and stolen glances. At your doorstep, Jake turned to you, eyes searching.

You exhaled softly, then took a step forward, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “Jake, I think I knew too.”

His breath hitched, his eyes searching yours as he tried to grasp the weight of your words.

His breath hitched. “Yeah?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. Then, just like he had done earlier, Jake reached up and gently brushed a strand of your hair away from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin softly. The simple act made your breath hitch, and for a moment, you could only stare at him.

Swallowing, you whispered, "You look really good tonight, by the way." Your voice was softer now, more vulnerable.

You nodded, fingers reaching up to brush his cheek. “I think I was just scared to admit it.”

Jake let out a soft chuckle, leaning into your touch. “So… what now?”

Smiling, you whispered, “Let’s find out together.”

And then, as if it had been inevitable all along, you kissed him.

The moment your lips met, it was like the world around you stilled. Jake’s breath hitched slightly before he melted into you, his hands finding their place on your waist, pulling you just a little closer. The kiss was soft at first, gentle and exploring, as if both of you were trying to memorize the feel of each other.

Your fingers curled against his shoulder, holding onto him as your heart pounded. The night air wrapped around you, but his warmth was all you felt. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough for it to steal your breath, yet not enough to rush—just slow, deliberate, like neither of you wanted this moment to end.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other’s, both of you catching your breath. Jake let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I’ve been waiting for the right moment to do that."

You smiled, eyes still half-lidded from the kiss. "Maybe... I've been waiting for it too."

And then, just before you could step back, he leaned in again, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips, as if sealing the moment between just the two of you.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

gamers

words: 800

warnings: vague descriptions of video game violence and gore, established relationship

“is it scary? i don't wanna play if it's scary.” you pout as rafe places the controller into your hand.

“ill protect you, promise.” rafe says, reaching over to flick the lamp on the side table on, that way more than just the light from the tv is illuminating the room.

“fine, but you can't get mad at me if i get your character killed.” you watch as rafe navigates the game easily, opening it up to the character customization screen, just doing default settings for himself.

“oh my god, im gonna make my girl look so cute!” you gush, taking your time to carefully choose her hair and outfit, even though none of the options are stylish, you create the best look you can out of the post apocalyptic clothing choices.

rafe doesn't care that he has to sit and wait for you to perfect your character, not when he finally got you to agree to play with him.

“okay, done.” you nod as you choose a pair of pink sneakers, practical but still cute. “so what's this game all about? just running from zombies?”

“basically.” rafe says with a light chuckle. “we gotta get to the safe house for this round. just follow me, gonna pick up some weapons.”

you pick up the hang of the controls easily, concentrating on the tv as rafe drops a knife and gun for character to use to protect yourself just in case.

“this isn't so bad.” you hum, pausing to admire the scenery in the background of the game, mountain peaks poking up into the sky. “where are all the zombies?”

“they give you a few minutes to get weapons before the storms start.” rafe says, eyes scanning the screen as you head into a building, rafe knows there's med packs in there that he will need when he sustains damage keeping your character safe.

“storms? that sounds scary rafe.” you scooch so you’re closer to your boyfriend. “and it's getting dark.”

it's already dark outside your actual window, but you can tell that it's getting darker in the game as well, the sun setting as you follow rafe down the desolate street, crashed cars and trash strewn about just like if it was a real apocalypse.

“here they come!” rafe warns, clicking the buttons quickly as his character shoots at the zombies moving slowly towards you. your eyes widen upon seeing the gore, cringing and turning to hide your face in rafes shoulder once your character is hidden behind a stopped car.

“i don't like this rafey!” you whine once the gunfire stops, peeking up to see a literal pile of dead zombies. “it's scary.”

“i know, but i kept you safe, didn't i? we are almost done with the first level, just gotta get to the safe house then we can take a break, okay?” rafe offers, keeping his eyes on the screen but turning his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“fine.” you groan. you like playing games with rafe, but your preference is him watching you dress your sims or decorate their houses after using a cheat to get them more money, only wanting your sims to have the best furniture.

you navigate your character to follow him down the sidewalk, occasionally stopping to kill the zombies. you even manage to shoot a couple.

“wait, baby, be careful.” rafe warns. “dont go that way.”

but his warning comes too late as a zombie jumps out of a dumpster that you’re standing directly next to, making you scream as it takes up your entire screen, not just attacking your character but also jumpscaring you.

“i got you, hold on.” rafe is pressing the sprint button as hard as he can, as if that can somehow make his character get to you faster. rafe manages to kill the zombie before it has the chance to bite you.

your chest is heaving up and down like you were the one to get attacked. “come on, the safe house is just around the corner.” rafe wraps an arm around your shoulder, using one hand on the controller until you’re both behind the barbed wire fence, the game switching to a cutscene. 

“i hate this.” you look to rafe with a pout on your face. “can we play stardew valley instead? please?”

rafe sighs. he should have known better than having you play with him. you are extremely adverse to any sort of shooting game. “yeah, sure.” rafe saves his progress, just in case he can convince you to play with him again before switching to stardew valley and handing you the main controller.

“yesss, thank you.” you smile, pressing a kiss to rafes cheek as your character wakes up. “you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“you just say that because you need me to go into the mines for you.” rafe says with a laugh.

“well, its scary!”

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @die4niyahhh

[sailon-ishmael]

Tag Game: People I'd like to get to know better!

Ty to @erebusbabylon for the tag! <33

Last Song: "Nowhere Near" by Yo La Tengo. I've been getting very into shoegaze recently and this song just popped up on shuffle. I've known of this band for a while but haven't really listened so this song might be what gets me into them!

Favorite Color: It's always so hard to choose but it's probably green or blue. I also just generally really like the primary colors, I had a big phase of wearing very color block-y outfits that featured just one color throughout and it was pretty enjoyable.

Last Book: I'm currently reading Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky because I met someone recently who told me I should read the Russians, and I just requested A Perfect Spy by John Le Carré from my library because I've been on a little bit of a spy thing recently (see TV answer). The last book I fully finished though was Free Food for Millionaires by Min Jin Lee (also wrote Pachinko). HIGHLY recommend, it was a re-read for me actually but it hit me so differently this time round as a recent college graduate trying to figure out what I want from life.

Last Movie: A French movie called The Taste of Things, directed by Tran Anh Hung. Really, really gorgeous film. It's a quiet, mature romance set in late 1800s France, slow and meditative. This film emphasizes the beauty of process when it comes to food. The cooking and eating, yes, but also the growing, the preparation, the cleaning etc.

Last TV show: I've been sick at home for the past couple of days and as such I've been allowing myself to binge as much TV as I want, and my ultimate comfort genre is British murder mysteries and spy thrillers (a la La Carré). So I just binged Marlow Murder Club (very fun, short, and sweet) and The Night Manager (sexy, stylish, and riveting).

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: I'm a savory lover through and through, give me a piping hot soup to sip on instead of a hot chocolate any day! I used to scarf down a cup ramen in the 20 minutes I had between two back to back classes in my last semester, and I couldn't stand to throw out the soup after I finished the noodles so I'd just show up to class with my little cup of steaming leftover soup and sip on it throughout lolol.

Current Obsession: Mmm trying to think of an answer that isn't astoundingly obvious *side eyes my whole blog* but honestly, I guess my current obsession as an editor is one Harry Goodsir. His wet eyes and spiral of disillusionment have bewitched me body and soul. Other than The Terror and TROP, I've also been recently re-awakened to my obsessions with Bagginshield and Valvert (Les Mis). For some reason, my high school comfort ships have decided it's time to make a reappearance in my brain's rotation of rotstuff.

**********

No pressure tagging @plotdesigner @roundtriptojupiter @mxdzin @alexnortonweldon @daughterofthesunlands @commonguttersnipe

[annievrse]

[college] basketball!eren

—ᡣ𐭩 headcanons a/n: guys i’m back in the waiting room (& it’s fkn hot today)……… let’s write some headcanons!!

a few points i've made in my bf!eren headcanons:

in basketball games against certain colleges, bf!eren gets so fired up and aggressive and lippy. he talks so much shit on the court (he's known for it), and isn't afraid to take shit either (which pisses off the other team, and the whole cycle starts again). but, it's a bonus for you when he gets off the court because he's looking extra hot..... and he knows it...... asshole

you wear bf!eren's spare jersey to his basketball games

bf!eren with a chain under his basketball jersey, his hair tied back and a thin headband, tape on his dodgy shoulder......... oh lordy

bf!eren's post-game meal is 3 big macs and 2 mcchickens AND a kids nugget meal (he wants to give you the toy that comes with it because he’s cute) but don’t forget dessert!! he sips his *diet* coke as a palate cleanser and then inhales an apple pie

bf!eren gets a job coaching a kids' basketball team, and that is a canon event

now i will elaborate....

basketball!eren wears nba jerseys in everyday life with sweat shorts & dunks/vans/birkenstocks (with socks) he is an effortlessly stylish college athlete ok he can pull off anything

basketball!eren has a piece of sports tape around his wrist with your name written in marker <3 (points to it whenever he scores if you aren’t there (e.g. games on the other side of the country), otherwise his finger is on you in the crowd)

whenever his favourite team is playing (call him basic, call him a bandwagon, but my man is in love with steph curry, so you know he supports golden state) & he can’t watch at home on the tv, basketball!eren sits and watches it on his phone (warning: he will speak to the phone like the team can hear him so keep an eye on him in public, especially at the library because he will yell)

basketball!eren got mvp in sophomore year (jean was like 2 points behind him) and he holds it over jean’s head because he is cheeky and a dick

basketball!eren wears a suit to and from his games (specifically a navy one with a white shirt, no tie, and its just so rahhhhhh) with his headphones on and a large cup of black coffee

now, i don't want to expose basketball!eren here, but in his headphones, only on game days, he plays taylor swift & rihanna

basketball!eren texts you nonstop when he's on the bus/plane to games (because connie is his seatmate (he loves him to death) but connie knocks the fuck out on these trips so eren gets very bored)

basketball!eren wears his hair in 2 styles when he plays: completely tied back with a thin headband or fully out with a thin headband (frothing over here sorry don't look at me: heavy emphasis on the 2nd style though)

basketball!eren has like a couple hundred thousand followers on instagram because he's a college basketball player and he's good and hot as fuck

basketball!eren posts photo dumps once a fortnight as a wrap-up for that time period because his life is so crazy hectic that he always has content for a new dump (i wish he was real guys)

basketball!eren loves loves showing you off (private but not secret on social media) & buying you gifts (instagram stories of your wrist with the new bracelet he gifted you for your birthday)

basketball!eren gets drafted in his senior year of college :') (chooses to graduate first and then go to the nba - he wasn't studying biomedical science for nothing!!! (not that he needs it anymore.......))

basketball!eren gets rookie of the year in his first season (crying)

[lemoncrushh]

Tattooed Heart - Part VI

SUMMARY: You are a cocktail waitress at a swanky lounge. Harry comes in one night, and you instantly dislike him. But another encounter eventually changes your opinion.

PAIRING: Waitress Y/N x Artist/Tattoo Artist Harry

TROPES: Enemies to Lovers

MUST BE 18+ TO READ

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

STORY PAGE

“Hey, gorgeous! How are you? I’ve been so worried about you!” John exclaimed enthusiastically into the phone.

“I’m pretty good, actually. How are things at Zelda’s?” While you didn’t necessarily want to know the answer, you’d always considered John a friend and knew he had your back. Which was why you decided to give him a call.

“Oh girl, things have changed dramatically since you left!”

“Really?”

“Yes! We got a new manager. His name is Rafael, but we’re allowed to call him Rafi. He’s a dish and a half, let me tell you! Not like that last asshole.”

You chuckled. “Good, I’m glad for you.”

“Yeah, sucks for you though! If only you could have stayed. Hey, want me to put a good in for you with Rafi?”

“Um…no, that’s okay, John. I’m kind of happy where I am.”

“Seriously? Where’s that?”

You told your friend about working at the cafe. Then proceeded to tell him how Harry got you the job.

“To make a long story short,” you said, trying to do just that, “he’s not the jerk he appeared to be. And…well…now we’re dating.”

“Hold up! Stop right there. Rewind! I need to hear everything, Y/N! EVERYTHING!”

You laughed at the way John enunciated every syllable. And you’d expected as much. For the next hour, you went into every detail with him like he requested (at least as much as you were willing to divulge), and by the time you finished, it was time to get ready for your date with Harry.

“Oh my God, girl, that’s so crazy!” squealed John. “But I’m happy for you. If you’re happy.”

“I am.”

“Good. Just don’t forget about me, okay? Pop in some time, maybe with Handsome.”

“I will,” you promised.

After pulling on a pair of jeans and a stylish top, you brushed your hair and touched up your makeup. You were meeting Harry at his place, where he was making you dinner again, and then you were going to a movie. It seemed to be the first Saturday you were both off since you’d met. And you were looking forward to having a normal, mundane date night.

The last couple weeks had been both hectic and amazing. Since that evening at the gallery, Harry had been extremely busy finishing up his moon series paintings. Donovan McNulty had still been showing interest in Harry’s art, and specifically voiced that he wanted to know the minute his newest pieces would be available. And you’d been picking up extra shifts at the diner to make a little extra money. But any moment you were both free had been spent together. You took turns, rotating your visits at each others’ apartments. You enjoyed leaning against his kitchen counter while you watched him cook, and Harry enjoyed teasing Shae when she was around, and nibbling on the soft spot behind your ear as you watched TV when she wasn’t there - and sometimes when she was.

Your feelings for him were growing daily, and while you told yourself it was still too soon to have such feelings, you used your free time away from him to write them down. You expressed every emotion from the way your heart skipped when you’d see him sitting in his usual chair at the cafe, to the way your body ached for him as you laid in your bed staring at the ceiling. You even included the way it had felt when you’d seen Nicolette at the cafe and at the gallery, even though Harry assured you tenfold that he had broken off all contact with her. You didn’t want to be jealous of his ex. You knew deep down that it would not bode well if you were going to take this relationship to the next level. And you definitely wanted to.

Harry greeted you with a smile as he opened the door, a glass of wine already in his hand waiting for you. When you stepped inside, you gave him a quick kiss before accepting the glass and taking a sip.

“Mmm, something smells yummy!,” you commented, turning for the kitchen.

“Chicken Piccata with roasted radicchio and sweet potatoes,” Harry announced proudly as he followed you. “It’s almost ready.”

“Chef Styles, when are you opening your own restaurant? This is way too impressive for just me.”

“You’re the only one I care to impress,” he said, pushing your hair from your neck to softly brush his lips across your tender flesh.

You reached behind you for his hands, bringing his arms around your waist. He hummed against your skin as he gave you a squeeze. The timer on the oven sounded then with a friendly chime, and Harry hesitantly released you in order to remove its contents. Watching him serve up the meal, you joined him at the table with your wine.

“I have some news,” he announced after you’d taken your first bite and raved about its deliciousness.

“Oh? What is it?” you asked enthusiastically.

“I’m having another gallery showing. For the moon series.” Harry stabbed his fork into his chicken before lifting his eyes to you.

“Are you kidding? That was quick!”

“Well, yeah,” he grinned. “I brought them yesterday for Sherrod to see. Apparently he phoned McNulty, gave him some rubbish about how brilliant they are, and he’s flying down Thursday to see for himself.”

Quickly dismissing the fact that he’d degraded his own art, because you knew he didn’t really think it was rubbish, you focused on the positive.

“Oh my God, Harry! That’s wonderful! I’m really proud of you.”

“I know, babe. And I appreciate all the support you’ve given me. You'll never know how much.”

“I have an idea,” you jested. “You spoil me with this delicious food.”

“That’s just because I can,” he winked. “And because I want to. It’s not a payment.”

“Good to know,” you said before popping a bite of sweet potato in your mouth.

“I would like your help with something, though.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Could you help spread the word about the exhibit?” Harry requested. “Maybe invite some friends? The more the better. The cocktail party was nice, but I’d like it to be a massive event.”

“Ooh, yes! I’d love to!”

Rising from your chair, you reached over the table to plant a kiss on Harry’s lips, to which he happily accepted.

“When would you like to get your tattoo?” Harry asked as you laid twisted in the sheets, his bare thigh crossed over yours, his fingertips tracing nonexistent lines down your arm.

You turned your head to the side to look at him. If it was possible, he appeared even more beautiful than ever, his eyelids heavy, his pillowy lips swollen, his scruffy jaw threatening to produce more facial hair now that the morning was nigh. The evening of lovemaking had been blissful, Harry having brought you to orgasm not once, not twice…but three times. And while you worried you’d never walk again, the man beside you looked completely fucked.

You couldn’t help but be elated by the knowledge that you’d made that happen.

“I’m not sure yet,” you whispered, reaching for his stubbly chin. “Soon, I guess.”

You felt Harry breathe out of his nose, and while he tried to hide it, you could detect the frown on his lips.

“Do you not want it?” he inquired after a beat.

“I…no, I do,” you nodded.

“‘Cause you don’t have to get it,” Harry added. “The one I designed, or any other one. If you don’t want a tattoo, it’s fine. I’ll understand.”

“No, I want one.”

Harry continued to draw his finger down your arm. You could tell the conversation wasn’t over, but you were unsure what else to say. So you let Harry gather his thoughts instead. Finally he sighed, his gaze returning to your face.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“What for?” you asked.

“If I made you uncomfortable. It just dawned on me that I might have been a bit presumptuous with the tattoo. I know they can be very personal, and I…I should have just let you pick what you want.”

Blinking, you rolled over onto your side to face him. “Harry, no. That’s not it at all. I love the one you designed. I told you I loved that painting.”

“Then what is it?” Harry lifted a hand to brush your hair from your face, twisting the end of the strands between his fingers. “Any time I bring it up, you kind of hesitate or change the subject.”

“I…I didn’t realize,” you looked down at his chest. “I apologize.”

“Baby, look at me,” he insisted, urging your chin up. “Talk to me. Are you af-”

You stopped him mid-sentence with your finger on his lips. As you shook your head, Harry chuckled. Then tugging on your wrist, he released your hand from his mouth.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” he remarked.

“Just don’t use that word.”

“Alright,” he softened his expression, returning his fingers to your hair. “Am I moving too fast for you? Is that it?”

You gulped and sucked in your lips. Then you let out a nervous chuckle of your own. “It seems ridiculous to admit that after what we just did.”

“Not really,” Harry shook his head. “Sex can be separate from feelings. Although…I’m going to confess right now…for me…it’s not. Not with you.”

“Harry…” you breathed.

“Babe…” he murmured, pulling you closer. “I reckon I’ve conveyed my feelings for you already…at least a little bit. But if you need me to back off…I will.”

You stared at him, this gorgeous man. You couldn’t believe in just a few weeks you’d gone from hating him to…whatever this was.

“No,” you argued. “I don’t want you to.”

“No?”

“No, because…I’m feeling…things too.”

Harry’s voluptuous mouth curved into a sexy grin. You felt his hand on your back, his fingers dancing up your flesh.

“I’m just…a little hesitant, I guess,” you added, “about getting the tattoo…because it’s such an intimate thing to do, you know? To get ink on my skin of something you gave me, art you designed for me. And it’s…forever.”

Harry blinked slowly with a nod. “I completely understand, love. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“You didn’t. It’s just me. Like you said, it’s personal. And I would feel horrible if something happened between us, and-”

“Shh, baby…” Harry interrupted you this time. “It’s okay. I get it. Take all the time you need.”

You gave him a gentle smile before he pulled you into a deep kiss. Your eyelids heavy, and sleep threatening to take over, you tugged on the sheets. Getting the hint, Harry grinned, situating the covers over you before reaching for the lamp.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

You hummed in agreement as he held you against his warm body, and before you could even think any more about tattoos, you were sound asleep in his arms.

The rest of Sunday and most of Monday was spent making phone calls. You promised Harry a grand party, and you were determined to deliver. After telling Shae your plan, she was more than happy to come through by offering to tell her coworkers as well as some of your mutual friends. You called John to let him know as well, and he said he was already going to ask for the night off, and maybe even bring Rafi with him…if he was available, as he put it. You also called the gallery Monday morning, unbeknownst to Harry, to speak with Sherrod yourself. He told you how excited he was for Harry’s new exhibit, which put your mind at ease a bit.

“I really want this to be special for him,” you explained. “Is there anything I can do to help? To get the word out? More advertising? Do I need to hire a caterer or something?”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, darling,” assured Sherrod. “I’m already having my secretary making contacts as we speak. And I personally phoned my caterer on Friday.”

“Oh, fantastic,” you said. “The more people we can get to come, the better. There’s just one thing…”

“Don’t worry about that either, my pet. You have my word Miss Waters will not get an invite.”

“Ohh. For some reason I thought…” you chuckled nervously. “I don’t know how art galleries work, forgive me.”

Sherrod laughed heartily through the phone, catching you off guard. “Nothing to forgive, darling. Harry and I have already spoken about this as well.”

You breathed through your nose. Of course they had.

“Thank you, Sherrod. I appreciate everything.”

“It’s going to be a splendid night, you can be sure!”

Hanging up, you felt a heavy weight lift off your chest. It was quickly replaced with a glittery excitement. You couldn’t wait.

When you arrived for your mid-day shift at the cafe, you made a beeline for Jill who was making a cold brew for a customer. The look on her face when you told her the news about Harry’s exhibit was priceless.

“Of course I’ll be there!” she squealed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Bring some friends too, okay? I want to show him all the support we can give.”

That night, you sat in front of the TV writing in your journal. You soon found yourself mindlessly doodling in the corners of the page. Harry was at work, and you didn’t want to bother him. Yet you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He truly had been the only thing on your mind all day.

“Pppfff, more like for the last month,” you admitted out loud.

Tossing your notebook to the side, you leaned back on the couch and ran your fingers through your hair, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Jesus Christ, what am I doing?”

Getting up from the sofa, you slipped on your shoes, not bothering to change out of your lounge-at-home outfit - a dark green tunic and black leggings. The only effort you made was to brush your teeth and touch up your lip gloss before heading out the door.

The neon sign in the window seemed to glow brighter than you remembered, an enticing greeting to lure you in. Not that you hadn’t already planned to go inside.

Swinging the door open, you noticed an empty waiting area and counter. Smooth, instrumental jazz played through the speakers as you peeked your head through the doorway to scan the tattoo stations, but still saw no one. You were just about to walk through the shop to Harry’s office when you saw Kyle emerge.

“Oh, hey,” he grinned. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded, happy that he knew. Surely he didn’t remember you from the last time he’d seen you in the shop, but perhaps Harry had told him about you and he put two and two together. The idea made you blush a little.

“Harry’s in the back. I’ll go get him for you.”

Before you could retort, Kyle disappeared through the doorway from which he’d just appeared. And within seconds, your handsome, cheery boyfriend replaced him.

“Hi, babe!” he beamed. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, shyly. “Came to get my tattoo.”

His eyes widening, Harry stepped closer to you. “Really? Are you sure?”

Licking your lips, you nodded. “Positive.”

His dimples on full display, Harry pulled you into an embrace. You could feel his heart beating in his chest as he whispered in your ear. “I’m so happy.”

Then stepping back, Harry gestured toward his station. “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll get everything ready and tell Kyle he can go home.”

“Oh!” you mouthed, surprised. Harry disappeared into the back room again before you could argue.

Situating yourself in Harry’s chair, you gazed at the art on display around his station as well as photos of various clients’ tats. While a few pieces looked to be fairly common, most of them were exquisite, no doubt one-of-a-kind works of art. You were staring at a large dragon piece on someone’s back when you heard a voice behind you.

“Bye, Y/N,” Kyle called. “Have a nice night.”

“Oh, thanks. Same to you,” you waved just as Harry walked up.

“You didn’t have to make him leave,” you said under your breath. “You’re not closed yet, are you?”

“I am now,” Harry wiggled his brows before walking to the front door and locking it, turning the OPEN sign to the CLOSED side.

With pursed lips, you tried to hold back a smirk as Harry returned, his own smirk tugging on his mouth.

“Slow night?” you inquired when he sat down on his stool.

“You would not believe. That’s why we were in my office. Kyle helps me with my website.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as you watched Harry get his tray ready just like he had the day you’d brought Shae. That already felt like a lifetime ago.

“You always surprise me with your music choices,” you commented as you listened to the soft jazz.

Harry chuckled with a nod. “This is my focus, slash wind-down music. Since it was slow, I switched it from grunge whilst we worked on the website.”

“I like it,” you grinned.

Harry gazed up at you from under his lashes before his eyes roamed down your body. You felt a tingle as his gaze made its way back up to your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Was just recalling the last time you were sat in this chair.”

“Oh my God, Harry,” you blushed. “Please tell me you sanitized it!”

His eyes squinting as he giggled, Harry scooted closer to you. “You’re too much, babe.”

“Why, because I like cleanliness?”

“No, because that’s your first thought. It certainly wasn’t mine.”

You stared into his jade eyes that were now inches from your face, the irises appearing to have a dark line around them.

“That was…um, some kind of night,” you murmured softly.

“Indeed, it was.” Harry’s hand landed just above your knee then before he slid it slowly up your thigh.

“Hmm,” you nodded. “Are you trying to seduce me again?”

Harry puffed out a chuckle. “No. Don’t reckon I had to try then either.”

Dragging your tongue across your teeth, you focused on his mouth and the way his hand felt on your leg. “Fair enough. What do you remember most about that night?”

“How sweet your pussy tasted on my tongue,” he quickly replied, as if he’d had his answer ready before you’d even asked the question. “And how you tugged on my hair and your thighs trembled as you called my name.”

“Harry…”

“Oh, it was much louder than that.”

You blushed again, but this time you didn’t bother hiding it. Leaning towards you, Harry placed a soft kiss on your lips. Followed by a second, and a third. By the fourth, your fingers were in his hair, his tongue in your mouth. You reveled in the sensation, urging him with your own. When a gentle moan escaped your chest, Harry’s hand that had been on your thigh made its way between your legs. You began to grind against him in your seat, knowing your leggings and panties were already soaked through. His other hand traveled underneath your t-shirt, and when his fingers met your bare skin, you gasped.

“Are you…,” you gulped, “planning to eat me out again on this chair?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Oh.”

“I have other things in mind,” he added, echoing the exact words he’d said to you that night before taking you home.

“Oh…”

Harry sat back on his stool and raised a brow. “I thought you wanted a tattoo, love.”

“Harry Styles! Are you teasing me?” you exclaimed.

Giggling with glee, you noticed his eyes dancing. “Maybe.”

“Rude!” you frowned, tugging your shirt down. Your pussy still throbbing from his hand, you pouted.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s my fault. Seeing you in this chair…it turned me on, and I got carried away. I do want to play. But I think we should get started on this tattoo, don’t you? It’s gonna take a bit.”

You nodded with a sigh. “Okay.”

Harry gave you a peck on the nose and one on the lips. “Now, did you decide where you want it? The ink, I mean,” he smirked.

“So, I had considered getting it on my side, like down my hip. There’s plenty of room to make it big. But then I changed my mind.”

“Too much?” Harry asked.

“Nope. Not enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s gonna see it there. Except you. And while the idea is sexy, I’d rather have the art my boyfriend designed to be in a spot everyone could see.”

“Baby…” Harry breathed, his hand over his heart.

“I know, I’ve been hesitant about this,” you explained. “About us. But I have no clue why. We’ve spent all this time together. You’ve shown me time again that you’re interested in more than just…a fling. Every time I’m with you, I feel butterflies and moonbeams and…all the cheesy things.” You let out a nervous sigh as you looked down at your hands, then back up to his gorgeous face. “The truth is…I’m crazy about you, Harry.”

“Sweetheart,” he cried, pulling you into another kiss. Then leaning his forehead against yours he murmured, “You make me so happy.”

“Good,” you grinned, your right hand on his cheek as you held out your left. “That’s why I think we should put it right here, below my elbow, down the inside of my arm.”

“I think that would be lovely,” he agreed, misty-eyed. Then he kissed the inside of your wrist before rising from his stool. “Let me go get the stencil, and I’ll be right back.”

When he stepped away, you suddenly felt butterflies in your tummy, and not just from the notion of getting a tattoo. You’d almost told him more than you’d planned. The truth was, you weren’t just crazy about him. You were falling for him. Hard. Perhaps you had been falling bit by bit every day. And you were finally willing to admit it to yourself. But you weren’t quite sure yet if you were ready to say it to him. It still felt too soon. But you loved the look on his face when you’d revealed what you had. His delight gave you hope that perhaps he felt the same.

Harry returned with a big smile on his face. Placing the stencil next to him, he pulled on his gloves. Then reaching for the rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, he eyed you.

“Still wanna do this?” he asked.

“Definitely,” you beamed.

Taking your arm, he gently rubbed the soaked cotton pad down your arm, from the elbow to your wrist. Then he took a new disposable razor and gently shaved the area, just like you’d seen him do on Shae, back when you still hated him. The idea brought a sour taste to your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah, sorry. Was just…thinking.”

“About?” Harry raised a brow.

“How far we’ve come in just a short time.”

Harry’s face softened. “I think about that a lot.”

“You do?”

“I thank my lucky stars every fucking day that you forgave me. That you were able to see the real me and change your mind. I only wish…”

“What?” you asked.

His gaze seemed to burn into you as he looked deep into your eyes. “I wish we had met some other way. Like some random day at the cafe, or maybe here when you’d come with Shae. Or maybe even at Zelda’s on a night I was alone. Some other way that you could have met the real me instead of that prick I pretended to be.”

You sat in silence as you absorbed Harry’s words and watched him place the thermal paper on your arm with the stencil. When he peeled it off was when you spoke.

“What would you have said?”

“When?”

“If we had met in a different situation. What would you have said to me?”

“In which scenario?” he smirked.

“Let’s go with the first one. Obviously I wouldn’t be working at the cafe. But let’s say I came in one day that you were sitting there working on your iPad.”

Harry chuckled loudly, catching you off guard. “Well, I can’t really say for sure, can I? There are other factors involved.”

“Alright,” you agreed. “But you said you’ve thought about it. What happens in your…wish?”

You swore you caught a tiny bit of color in his cheeks as Harry pulled his tray closer to him. “We have to get serious now, babe. I’m about to stick a needle in your arm.”

You puffed out a breath in humor, then sat up straight in your chair. “Fine. Mark me.”

Harry’s nostrils flared as he chuckled at your joke. Then he made a few adjustments to his tattoo gun before getting to work. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would. You watched as Harry traced the stencil, starting with the dripping moon at the top. After every stroke, he would wipe your skin. He seemed so focused, so gentle. You stared at his face for a little while, and every time he’d bite his lower lip, it sent your heart all aflutter. When he finished the outline, he looked up at you.

“Still doing okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded.

He gave you a smile before returning his focus to your arm. You were both quiet for a moment until he spoke again.

“I probably would have stared at you for a bit.”

“Huh?”

“At the cafe. If you had been sat near me at a table by yourself. I would have kept sneaking glances at you, but making sure you didn’t notice.”

“Well then, how am I supposed-”

“At first,” he interrupted. “Then I would have wanted you to notice. When we finally made eye contact, I’d have smiled at you.”

Lifting his head, Harry gave you just the smile he was referring to. And your insides ignited.

“I would say that’s very cheesy and cliche, but it’s not. I like it.”

“So what would you have done if I’d come over to your table and asked you your name?”

“I would have told you, and hoped to God you’d ask me for my number too.”

“Alright then,” Harry snickered. “That’s one scenario. But it didn’t happen.”

“It’s fine, Harry,” you said. “Something else happened instead. And we’re here anyway.”

“Yes, we are.”

You watched Harry continue on the tattoo, the moon starting to look realistic with the shading. As always you were in awe of him and his talent. Just like when you would watch him work at the cafe, you found yourself completely mesmerized. It was utterly sexy to you, from the way he focused on his project at hand, to the curls that framed his face and neck, and even down to the way his own tattooed arms flexed as he worked. As you studied him you let out a deep breath, feeling the wetness pooling in your panties again.

“Still okay?” Harry suddenly asked with a tiny smirk, as if he’d noticed.

“I’m wonderful,” you answered dreamily.

“You need to move your elbow a little?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” you nodded as Harry sat back to let you. Your arm had been in one position for a while, and you were starting to feel the effects.

“Okay, I’m good,” you commented as you reached your arm out again. “Tell me about your next project. What are you working on?”

“Just a second,” Harry muttered. As he scooted closer again, you wondered what he was doing until he beckoned you with his gloved hand. “Kiss me.”

You grinned widely before you happily obliged, giving him a few more kisses than he’d asked for just for good measure.

“Mmm, thanks babe. It’s hard to be around you for this long without touching your lips.”

“You’re welcome. And you’re the sweetest.”

With a wink, Harry returned to his task, this time moving onto the shading of the heart. “I actually haven’t started anything new yet,” he replied to your previous inquiry. “With the moon series now at the gallery, I’ve kind of been trying to finish up some older pieces.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you had anything that was incomplete.”

“Yeah. You saw the citiscape one, right?”

“Yes, that was gorgeous! That wasn’t finished?”

“Not yet. I keep feeling like there’s something missing, but…I dunno. I’m also not sure if I want it to be a series or a stand alone piece.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I know it’ll be amazing. As always,” you offered emphatically.

“Thanks, babe. This is why…” he left his thought unfinished as his tattoo gun rounded the edges of the heart.

“Why what?”

Harry lifted his head, giving you an easy grin. “Why you’re a wonderful lady.”

You watched Harry finish the heart on the tat while you thought your own heart could burst. You thought he was going to say it for a second, but you understood why he hadn’t. It seemed like such a mundane moment to express those three words.

Changing the subject, Harry chatted with you lightly about the upcoming exhibit, about the cafe, about food. You told him about your pal John, and how he was planning to come as well as Jill and Shae.

“Thanks again for doing this for me, babe,” he grinned. “I truly appreciate you.”

“Of course, Harry. I honestly think I’d do just about anything for you.”

Raising his eyebrows, Harry gave you a sexy look before quickly looking back down at your arm. “I think we’re done, babe.”

“Oh. Oh!” You tore your eyes from his to gaze down at your new tattoo. It was extraordinary to say the least.

“It’s…so beautiful, Harry,” you choked. “I love it!”

“It’s yours,” he commented. “And only yours.”

Your eyes began to well up with tears, making your vision too blurry to even see it. But you knew he was right. You had a one-of-a-kind Harry Styles work of art on your arm. And you couldn’t be more proud.

“C’mere, you can look in the mirror,” Harry beckoned, gesturing to the mirror behind him on the wall.

Standing in front of it, you wiped your eyes with your fingers until Harry handed you a tissue.

“Don’t cry, love,” he cooed. “You’ll make me think you made a mistake.”

“Of course not, silly man.” You stretched your arm down to look at the full length of the ink on your skin. “No mistakes here.”

“I’m glad,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chest on your shoulder as you took in the image of you both in the mirror. Grabbing his phone, Harry then took a couple of quick photos of your arm. “Let’s go ahead and put a covering on that so it won’t get infected.”

“Oh, how long do I have to do that? I wanna be able to show it off this weekend.”

Harry smirked at your pout. “Just a few days. You should be okay by then.”

Once again, you sat in his chair while he applied the dressing and bandage. Then he explained to you the aftercare, which made you giddy. You knew it was his job, but you enjoyed seeing him being professional.

“I’ll give you some information to take home with you as well,” he added as he removed his gloves, “but right now, I really need to touch you.”

You opened your mouth, but before you could make a syllable, Harry slid his hands under your jaw and pulled you into a warm kiss. He soon deepened it, his tongue invading your mouth as his hands traveled around your neck to your hair. When he finally released you enough to take a breath, you gasped.

“Wow.”

“Uh huh,” he voiced so low that you barely heard it. Then he licked his lips before sliding his hand up your thigh like before. “Exactly.”

You stared at Harry, his eyes darkening as he fingers began to tease you between your legs.

“So, what…mmm,” you swallowed at the sensation, “what other things did you have in mind?”

“Oh, you really wanna know?” he quirked a brow.

“Mmhmm. Yes, please.”

“Hmm, you ask so politely. But I might wanna keep teasing you like this. Make your legs tremble until you can’t stand it anymore. Until you’re begging for me to make you come.”

“Mmm,” you moaned again as he applied more pressure with his thumb, his hand cupping you, still over your clothes. “I don’t think I would be opposed to that.”

“No? You like being teased?”

“I like the way you tease,” you replied, breathy.

A low chuckle rose from his throat, and you felt the vibration as his face was just inches from yours. Then he surprised you by rising from his chair, his hand leaving your throbbing core to tug on the bottom of your t-shirt.

“Off, sweetheart,” he demanded.

You lifted your arms for him to remove your top, careful of your freshly tattooed area. You nearly came unglued at the sight of him biting his bottom lip.

“Sorry I don’t have on fancy undies,” you said, looking down at your cotton bralette.

“Are you kidding?” he snorted before he helped you remove that garment as well, his hands quickly palming your bare breasts.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the pleasure of his calloused thumbs skimming across your perky buds. He was so light and gentle with his touch, that you almost pouted, but you knew this was his intention. To drive you crazy.

He kissed you again, his hands still on you until he backed away suddenly. You opened your eyes to see him removing his own shirt, his tattooed torso on display. Your mouth watered instantly, an automatic reaction now.

You and Harry had good sex. There was no denying it. Not that you liked to compare, but Harry was the best in bed. He already knew what you liked, what buttons to press and which ones not to (not that there were many). But the best thing about the sexual part of your relationship was that it was never boring. Even when it was just quick fucking, it was amazing. Even when it was sweet, sleepy sex, you were left satisfied.

So Harry implying - albeit obviously - that he wanted to fuck you on that tattoo chair was no surprise. But the thrill was still as strong as ever. Everything he did excited you. Jesus, just looking at him sent a bolt of electricity down to your cunt, making you squeeze your muscles together.

Letting out a breath, you reached for his belt, pulling it from the loop and releasing it. He gave you another smirk as you tugged on his jeans with your non-tattooed arm, frustrated when the button wouldn’t come loose.

“Let me help, baby,” he growled, keeping your hand in position as he covered it with his own hand and helped you pull. The button popped open, the zipper separating along with it as your tug was determined. Then Harry assisted you further, his hand guiding yours down the front of his pants.

“As if you had to help me with that,” you scoffed with a grin.

“Maybe I wanted some help,” Harry eyed you.

“I don’t think that’s necessary either, big boy.”

His sexy low chuckle vibrated through your hand while you found you were a hundred percent correct. Standing from the chair, you pulled him from the confines of his jeans, the pink, bulbous head of his hard cock greeting you.

“Mmm,” you sounded. “Maybe I could help a little.”

You released his erection for just a moment to run your hands down his chest, your fingernails raking over his pecs and the light dusting of chest hair around his nipples. But it didn’t take long for Harry to reach for your tits again, squeezing them in his hands.

“Wait…I thought I was supposed to be teasing you,” he groaned.

“So you don’t want your cock in my mouth?” you teased back.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Fuck, babe, I don’t know anymore. You’re so hot. I’m so turned on.”

“I can see that,” you grinned, wrapping your palm around his cock again. Before he could protest, you fell to your knees.

“Babe…” you heard as you barely licked the tip.

“Just let me, Harry. Please? I’m begging,” you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, batting your lashes.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Harry gave you permission with a nod and heavy eyelids. You took your time, wetting the head first, then slowly dragging your tongue underneath his length, from the base to the tip. Then licking your lips, you wrapped them around his hard cock, giving a generous amount of suction.

You heard his heavy breathing get louder and faster as you steadied yourself with your other hand on his hip. His own hands were everywhere at first, starting in your hair, then trying to paw at your breasts, then finally settling back on your head, gently urging and guiding you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at this.”

You’d never considered yourself a pro at giving head. You couldn’t even take all of him, for fear of choking. But he didn’t seem to mind. Your mouth and tongue along with your hand seemed to do the trick. After a few more swirls of your tongue, you allowed your other hand to reach underneath, grabbing his balls. He moaned loudly, another expletive rising from his chest.

“Baby. Baby, baby, stop. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Popping off of him, you smiled up at him, saliva dripping from your chin. You enjoyed pleasuring him, but you were excited to move on to phase two. With another low groan, Harry ran his thumb across your chin, guiding you back up to your feet.

“Y/N. I need to be inside you. Now.”

“Aw, you mean I don’t have to beg?”

Harry didn’t bother replying with words. Instead, he pulled down your leggings with fervor, your panties clinging to them so they slipped down together, pooling around your ankles just like Harry’s jeans.

“Turn around, sweetheart,” he patted your hip while wiggling his brows.

More electricity surging through you, you happily did as you were told, bending over the tattoo chair. You felt Harry run his hands down your ass before grabbing your hip and situating himself at your entrance. He slid in slowly at first, like he always did in order to get adjusted. But as soon as he let out a gasp that echoed your own, you knew it wouldn’t be long before he started to move faster.

Harder. His fingers dug into your flesh as he pounded into you. You bit your lip at first, then thought it silly since you were alone. As you began to moan, so did Harry. The sounds intertwined with the sexy, slow jazz were intoxicating. And when Harry bent over to grab your hair and talk in your ear, you thought you might come.

“Pussy’s so good, baby. Been thinking about it all day. Always so wet for me.”

“Mmmm,” was all you could manage.

“You like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes!”

“You like my hard cock pounding into you, my balls slamming against your wet pussy?”

“God, yes!”

“Yeah. It’s mine, innit? Your gorgeous cunt is all mine.”

“Mmhm.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s all yours, Harry. I’m all yours.”

Moaning in your ear, Harry slowed down. You wondered for a moment what was happening as you knew he hadn’t come yet. Then you felt a chill on your back as he stood up, his hands at your hips.

“Let’s get these off the rest of the way,” he said with heavy breaths, indicating your pants.

Blinking, you wiped your eyes and toed off your shoes, stepping out of the leggings as you watched Harry do the same with his jeans.

“Sorry, babe, for the interlude,” his voice cracked. “I wanna try something else.”

“Okay.”

You watched as he readjusted the chair to lay flat. Then he laid down on it.

“C’mere, babe,” he beckoned. “Climb on top of me.”

You shifted your eyes nervously. “Are you sure we won’t break it?”

“Only one way to find out,” he smirked.

Sucking in your lips, you climbed on with Harry’s assistance. You giggled at the awkwardness of it all as you straddled him.

“Just a second, honey,” he said when you were about to aim his cock. “Let me look at you.”

You glared at him, once again wondering what was going through his head. He acted as if he’d never looked at you before. But as you smiled down at him, his own lips grew into his dimpled grin, making you warm all over. He brushed your hair from your face, his thumb grazing across your cheek.

“You’re like an angel,” he murmured. “You take my breath away.”

“Harry…” you exhaled.

“I’m all yours too, honey.”

You beamed at him, knowing it was a reply to your previous admission. Then lifting yourself onto your knees, you looked into his eyes as you sank down onto his cock. You hissed as he closed his eyes, both of you already sensitive.

You rode him with determination, needing to chase the release. After bouncing on him a few times, Harry took your left hand and held it to his chest, making sure you didn’t put too much pressure on that arm. You giggled awkwardly as you tried to keep your balance, but your boyfriend was good at helping.

As you started to reach your high, the burn imminent both in your thighs and your core, you began to cry out.

“Harry….it’s so good, baby…oh, God…Harryyyyy.”

Bucking his hips against you, his hands both now on your own hips, he stared you in the eyes.

“I know, honey. Tell me.”

“Mmmmm…I’m all yours, Harry,” you bit your lip, throwing your head back.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Blinking, you gazed down at him, his gorgeous face flushed. He groaned in pleasure before wrapping his arms around you.

“Tell me, baby. I wanna hear you say it.”

“What?”

“Tell me you love me.”

Your eyes widening, you stared at him in…no, not disbelief. Because you absolutely believed it.

“I know you feel it, baby. Just like I do. Tell me. Please.”

You’d slowed down your hips, Harry having paused his thrusts. But as you began to resume, moving faster, his gorgeous mouth hanging open, you nodded.

“I love you, Harry.”

His lips twitched before he licked them, then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

A tiny giggle escaped your throat as realization kicked in. You were in love. And all his.

You rode Harry to the finish, reaching orgasm just before he cried out those three words again. He kissed you deeply, his tongue letting you know how pleased he was. His head falling back, his eyes closed in complete bliss, the biggest, dopiest grin on his face.

“Say it again, babe.”

You kissed his salty chest and neck, then gnawed on his stubbly chin.

“I love you,” you sang softly before kissing his lips.

“And I love you,” he echoed while your face hovered over his, your hair surrounding you both like a secret garden. “So much.”

Chatter filled the room and your ears as you suddenly heard the clink of a fork against glass.

"Ladies and gentlemen! A toast! To our man of the evening!" announced Sherrod. Harry turned to him with a bashful grin. "It has been my utmost pleasure to host this soiree for such an incredible artist. He is a viable part of this community, and I know you all join me in congratulating him at completing another remarkable series. To Harry Styles!"

As everyone clapped and cheered, raising their glasses, you heard Stan shout, "Hear, hear!"

Smiling at your boss, whom you had been thrilled to see arrive with his wife, you watched him make a taste of his own.

"Harry, my son, I've watched you sit at that same table in my cafe for over a year, doodling on your notepads and…thingamajig…" he gestured, making the guests chuckle. "To be honest, I didn't understand why my coffee shop, or why that table…or why only flat white lattes…" more laughs erupted as he patted Harry on the shoulder. "But I knew you had talent. And ambition. I'm proud of you, son. And I'm proud to say I knew you when."

"Hear, hear!" Sherrod and others cheered, raising their glasses again.

"Thank you, Stan. Thank you Sherrod," Harry choked. "This whole night means more to me than you'll ever know. All of you. I'm so humbled that each of you came tonight. This truly was special. I'll never forget it."

Harry's eyes met yours during his final words. Then as the chatter resumed, he stepped forward and pulled you into a long kiss.

"Alright you two," said Jill behind you. "Don't go find a room just yet. I need to take pictures."

You giggled as your friend held her phone up and you posed for several photos with Harry, including one where you were kissing him on the cheek. Satisfied with her shots, Jill squealed with joy and announced she had to take some more with her other friends next to Harry’s art.

A waiter came by then with more champagne, and you gladly took another glass, handing him your empty one.

“I’m so happy to see you having a good time,” beamed Harry, his arm still around you.

“I may have had a few too many of these,” you snickered, covering your mouth with your hand.

“No matter. We have that limo, thanks to you.”

“You can actually thank Shae. It was her idea.”

“Where is Shae, by the way?” Harry turned his head to search for your roommate. He spotted her next to the shrimp, talking to Kyle. His chest shook with laughter as he turned back to you.

“What?” you asked. “Kyle’s a nice guy, right?”

“Yeah. Too nice. She’s probably giving him an earful, and I’ll have to hear about it later.”

You playfully slapped his arm in your friend’s defense, though you knew he was right.

“Good idea, by the way, showing off your tattoo right away. I already have some clients lined up.”

“That’s awesome!” you cheered. You figured one of them was the nice lady you were talking to last time, since you saw her again soon after you’d arrived.

“Harry, my good man, congratulations!” another voice sounded. You both swiveled to see Carlo, his arm already stretched to give Harry a hug.

“Thank you so much for coming, Carlo.”

“Anything for you, my friend! Y/N, I don’t believe you’ve met my beautiful wife, Jossalyn.” Carlo gestured to the stunning tattooed brunette to his right.

You both gave each other salutations before Harry pulled her into a hug as well. Then they announced their exit and said their goodbyes.

“You have a lot of friends and admirers, Harry,” you commented.

He nodded. “Seems that way. I need to remember to count my blessings.”

You lifted your hand to his handsome face, and he covered it with his own, gently shutting his eyes.

“Y/N! We have to be going, guys!” John shouted, breaking your reverie.

“John, thank you so much for coming!” you told him as you squeezed him. “And for bringing Rafi.”

“Told you he’s a dish,” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded as you watched his partner shake hands with Harry, then you did the same. As soon as they left, Harry leaned into you.

“Rafael is interested in my art.”

“Your art, or something else?” you quirked a brow. “I saw how he looked at you earlier.”

Harry cackled. “I promise it was strictly a professional conversation. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll remind him I’m taken.”

As he slid his arm back around your waist, you shook your head as you smiled up at him. “I was teasing you. I wouldn’t blame anyone in this room for wanting a piece of you…professionally or otherwise. But I appreciate the sentiment. Also, I trust you.”

“Yeah? I’m glad, baby.”

Harry brought his hand up to slide under your jaw, and he was just about to kiss you when the other man of the hour interrupted.

“Harry, lad, I have an early flight in the morning, so I must bid farewell,” said Donovan McNulty. This evening he wore a black suit with a red bowtie. You smiled at him, holding out your hand.

“Mr. Nulty, thank you so much for coming. You’ve made Harry so happy.”

Donovan leaned in and kissed your cheek, then the other. “My dear, I reckon it’s the other way around. Besides, it looks like he’s found his happiness right here, with his muse.”

He gave you a wink as he squeezed your tattooed arm before shaking Harry’s hand and waving goodbye.

The party continued for another hour or so. You and Harry both gave a lot more thank yous and farewells. Then when no other guests remained (Harry insisted on seeing everyone out to show his appreciation), Sherrod finally shooed you out to the limo.

“Thanks for helping with everything, sweetheart,” cooed Harry as he necked you in the back of the car.

“I didn’t do much,” you conveyed. “Sherrod set up most of it.”

“No, you did more than you know. I love and appreciate you.”

“Same here, handsome,” you grinned before caressing his soft lips. “By the way, I have something to show you when we get to your place.”

“Yeah? Is it under your dress?”

You giggled as his hand wandered under the flimsy fabric of the new dress you’d purchased just for this occasion.

“No,” you playfully tugged at his wrist. “It’s something I left there while we were getting ready. It’s in your nightstand.”

“Handcuffs?”

“No! Harry Styles, I’m trying to be romantic and open, and you’re being naughty.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, babe. I can’t help it. It’s just where my mind went.”

“It’s okay,” you tutted.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

Harry held your hand as he walked you to his apartment. The glow of the moon shone through the balcony doors, punctuating the end of the moon-themed evening like a full stop. Although you weren’t ready for it to end just yet.

You laid your clutch bag on the counter next to his keys and wallet before he pulled you in for yet another kiss. Throwing your arms around his neck, you let his tongue tangle with yours, tasting the champagne you’d both consumed. Then he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you into the bedroom.

“Are you gonna show me now?” he asked between kisses after he laid you down.

You simply nodded, then reached for the bedside table, opening the top drawer. You retrieved a small notebook, the one you’d been writing in. Opening it, you flipped to the page you wanted to show him. When you handed it to him, he looked at you inquisitively.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Remember when you asked me if I had a hobby, something that I was passionate about? And I mentioned I used to write?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You inspired me.”

With an easy grin, Harry sat back on the pillows, crossing his ankles. You sat next to him, your legs tucked underneath you as you bit your bottom lip nervously.

Brilliant, blazing, glistening, glittering

The celestial satellite shines by the light reflected from the sun

Its beautiful mystery soothingly captivates us

All aglow, seemingly from within

Feminine energy that affects the rise and fall of the tides

A big balloon, luminous and serene

These are words used to describe the moon

But they are also words to describe my heart

For my heart is now a big balloon

All aglow and alight from within

From the light of your heart, the sun

Brilliant, blazing, beautiful

Wondrous and astral, my heart is now home

Lowering the notebook after reading your poem, Harry looked at you.

“It’s kinda short,” you offered with a hesitant chuckle. “But it took me forever.”

“Baby,” he said, scooting closer to you and reaching for you. “This is beautiful.”

“Really?” you crinkled your nose, still not completely confident.

“Yes, baby, really. I love it. I love you.”

Your expression softened, easing into a smile. Harry pulled you to his chest, brushing your hair back from your face.

“Thank you for writing it, but even more, for sharing it with me.”

“I figured I should, since you share so much with me.”

“That’s what I mean, love. Not only did you share your heart with me, but you put it into words on paper. It’s stunning. I’m…”

His hands still in your hair, he paused his words.

“What?” you asked as you saw a tiny tear escape from the corner of his eye and down his cheek. “Harry…”

“Can’t help it, baby,” he choked as you wiped the tear. “I’ve fallen so hard for you.”

“Me too,” you whispered.

“Tell me again, Y/N.”

“I love you…” you said, his lips capturing yours once again before you could say his name.

You didn’t mind that he asked you to say those words. In fact, you liked it. You would tattoo it on your heart if you could.

THE END

And there we have it :). Please like, comment and consider following me if you enjoyed it! Feedback is love x.

[yellowjacketsfashion]

Yellowjackets Fashion Fact: Costume designer Amy Parris drew inspiration from 90s fashion magazines such as “Sassy.” Sassy magazines can be seen a couple times in the show, notably in Jackie’s room in 01x01 and with Melissa in 02x08.

Source:

[dinolich]

FAQ

One click spot for frequently asked questions, pertaining to HELLAWEEN and art in general. This will be linked in my bio and updated over time.

HELLAWEEN -What was the inspiration behind HELLAWEEN/How did it come to be?

In 2014 I had just graduated college and moved across the country for a storyboard internship at a film studio. I had a huge quarter life crisis when the environment clashed with me in every way, which left me questioning if I had made a massive career choice mistake. To help take the edge off I decided I needed to come up with some characters that were as self indulgent as possible. So I asked myself "What if there was Halloween level of a Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater game?" and "What if My Chemical Romance wrote the soundtrack to Scooby Doo?" and thus, the main cast was born. Originally I didn't have any plans with them, I was just having fun drawing them for inktober and developing their personalities. Once the internship ended and I was able to set my career back in motion with some significantly better studio atmosphere fits for me in California, I started getting more serious about developing a linear story. I spent some time pitching different versions to tv studios and shorts programs. Got some great feedback but no real bites. Fortunately, I had a post blow up that caught the attention of my publisher who reached out to see if I was interested in doing a book instead and I LEAPED at the opportunity! HELLAWEEN is very much inspired by my own teenage years, growing up in the Bay Area, being surrounded by alt and skate cultures in the 2000's. As well as exploring identity, and growing up queer but the words for "how" didn't really exist yet. Plus a deep love for spooky cartoons and stylish anime, of course.

-What kind of music pairs the story/characters?

Great news I have playlists for everyone

Gwen- Ashnikko and My Chemical Romance Miles- 100 gecs and Oingo Boingo Sloane- PUP and The Cure Hiro- Gorillaz and Maximum the Hormone Bea- AFI and The Used -Do you have any voice claims for the cast?

I’d mostly want them to be played by actual teenagers. But I have a couple in mind that I think could work—

Gwen I could see Valeria Rodriguez (Lagoona and Spectra on the current MH series) Miles maybe someone like Zeno Robinson (Hunter Owlhouse) Sloane I have no idea, but definitely a VO who’s non binary who can sound like a strong leader.

With Hiro and Bea it’s impossible to not hear Dante Basco and Grey Griffin in my head. The Jocks I would kill to cast any actor from Riverdale I could get my hands on. The rest I have no idea.

-What are the character's pronouns/orientations? Gwen- She/Her Miles- He/Him Sloane- They/Them Hiro- He/him Bea- She/Her Jarrahdale- She/Her Headless Horse Kid- He/Him Fritz- They/Them Whitney- She/Her Hazel- She/Her Kyle- He/Him Dom- He/Him Ester- She/Her In general I don't want to define their sexual orientations. I'm an aroace author and it's not something I'm interested in writing about. Ideally, I'd like to give the audience room to project themselves onto the characters. Don't get me wrong this book is QUEER and themes of identity are important, just don't expect any kissing in the canon story. Headcanons on the other hand, go nuts!!! The Jocks however, are all bi or pan. Can I get HELLAWEEN in ____ country/language?

Getting it published outside of the US is not out of the question, but at the moment I don't have any concrete info on that. I've heard folks have had good luck getting the book through their country's Amazon site or Bookshop.org Can I draw fanart/make my own playlists/write fanfiction/make a character?

oh my GOD yes ART Who are your artistic inspirations?

Jhonen Vasquez and Aaron Alexovich, FLCL, Jamie Hewlett, The Muppets, Mike Mignola, Mob Psycho 100, Rem's Devil's Candy, early Tim Burton, 2000's Neopets, Pokemon, plus online artists I’ve looked up to for years or grew up drawing with. What programs do you use?

Comics- Clipstudio Paint Sketching- Procreate Storyboarding- Storyboard Pro Writing- Final Draft/Google Docs What ink markers do you use in your sketchbook?

Copic markers, pentel pocket brush, pilot brush pens, micron fine liners Check out my episode of Creative Block!

[callsigns-haze]

Pretty like a crime

Prologue

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Word count: 1.5k

A/n: This is the first post to my new series so please be nice! I'm going to try to make this into a series so please show this story a bit of love and reblog!

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Fighting, violence, drinking, guns, shooting, choking, cursing, gun shot, knives and a lot of violence that idk how to lable

You were back for the first time undercover at a dinner masquerade party and lets say nothing has happened yet. Your job was to obtain the organization files and deliver them by the end of the night but for now there was no sight of the enemy.

All night you've been in continuous conversation and greetings with people who you never met. It was killing you mentally. You'd do anything to be in your apartment, with your son on the couch cuddling while watching the Midnight Garden.

Through a couple of sources you've been informed that an unknown to you, agent group was on this operation too, but if you revealed to the wrong person, you'd already be dead.

"Excuse me, is the seat taken?" A strong Texan accent asked behind you. Turning, you saw a very handsome gentleman. Wearing a black button top with a black pair of fine trousers and leather shoes, he greatly showed off the blonde gelled hair that was excellently groomed and those green eyes just sparked right.

'Wait! Why are you caring how he looks or not?!' You asked yourself. You shook your head in disagreement, and he sat next to you. You take a sip of your glass filled with water; not wanting to seem to unsuttle.

"I understand you're not really into this style of events?" He inquired. You give him a slight look and softly reply, "May I ask what gave me away? My resting face of a bitch or that my body language is all over the place?" He let out a slight laugh and extended his hand to you.

"Jakob." As you reached to his hand, he delicately lifts yours, kissing your knuckles. You smile as you never experienced such a gentleman before.

"And here I thought chivalry died out a long time ago," you comment. With a stylish smirk, he shakes his head in disagreement. "There's still a lot of us around, you just gotta know where to look. If I'm not ahead of myself, may I ask for your name?"

Before your undercover name could drift back into your memory one of his friends is calling him over. A man in a black suit, quite tall with soft brown curls and a eighties pornstache. With a disappointed sigh, he excused himself with a quick apology. You were again stuck alone in silence.

The great thing about this job assignment was the masquerade. Nobody will know what hit them and what they're getting themselves into and that was the plan. Surprise. And you'll get what you want. A long time has passed of you eyeing the door, waiting for the right person to come in and your own phone rings instead with a notification.

Tamara. Your babysitter just sent you the cutest picture of your son watching tv with all his teddies aligned so they can 'Watch it too.'

Your son. So young but so passionate and so loved. He was smart for such a young age and could easily figure out people's emotions. He got easily attached and loved spending time with Tamara. God, you thank her so much.

You quickly put your phone away once you laid your eyes on the member entering.

Adanson.

The man you were waiting for. The man you were going to steal from or kill if things got out of hand. He looks so smirked and full of himself even behind the mask. This was the easy part, find out what room he's going to. Try not to pull the trigger and leave before anyone notices any drama. But it's not going to be easy.

This man is one of the greatest ghost gun and drug dealer you know. Ghost guns are unserialized and untraceable firearms that can be bought online and assembled at home. They are often sold through "ghost gun kits," which include all of the parts and often the equipment necessary to build these weapons at home.

These kits are widely available and can be purchased by anyone, including prohibited purchasers, domestic abusers, and gun traffickers — without a background check. As these kits and guns are sold at gun shows and online every day throughout the country, they undermine all of the life-saving policies that state legislatures have fought so hard to put in place.

They were also not metal so they could easily slide through security. And the drug part. Fentanyl. Fentanyl is a potent synthetic opioid drug approved by the Food and Drug Administration for use as an analgesic (pain relief) and anesthetic. It is approximately 100 times more potent than morphine and 50 times more potent than heroin as an analgesic.

You're eyes following him from behind the mask and the glass, your gaze doesn't drop at any movement. He's with his source or someone who's along the lines, the unknown man whispers in his ear and shows the door to the others. But why leave when you've just entered? Why not go around the back? And why were you the one having to follow their trail?

Oh well…. Isn't that just life… But why are they leaving through the back door? And you're right on their trail.

--------------

Sprinting. You never ran so fast through a street beforez as you were getting pursued by three henchmen. You felt the cold air as it burned to intake, and those ankles of yours were gonna twist in all but the right angles. You got it. You don't know how but you've got the organisation files but you managed to got caught so you're kinda running for your life and may I say running in heels and a red long silk dress wasn't really in your plans. Thinking you could lose them, you run down an alleyway.

It was a wrong turn, a dead end. There was no exit and no way out. 'Shit!' you thought, panting. You hear three pairs of thick footsteps of the men who have chased you and a disgusting laughter as you turn back around facing the men.

You had to fight or you'd die. The largest of the three came up to you shoving you backwards against the stone wall. "You all are the same, think you can take what they want without consequences," that russian accent was so scrappy that you'd prefer nails on a chalkboard.

"Now little girl, give us the files or are you prepared for death," he grabbed you by the neck, you spitting in his face made him take a stepped back in disgust and a flinch. The two of the men couldn't have done anything until you say.

"I think I should be asking… Are you prepared?" Smirking you start your fight as one henchman ran towards you hoping to punch you straight in the face. Giving him a roundhouse in the nose and punching him in the lower stomach, grabbing his head and kneeling him straight unconscious, you failed to see the other man coming behind with a thick metal chain, causing you to check while cutting off your oxygen access.

You started pulling and shaking which only cause him to squeeze tighter. Your vision started to go. You knew this was the end when you could only cough and not breathe. You were about to pass out but suddenly you were dropped and quickly loosened the grip for yourself gasping to catch a breath.

A gun shot.

Let's be more specific a gunshot sent from the handsome Texan blonde who flirted with you this evening. Wait where did he go? You felt a hand on your shoulder, and with the remaining stamina you had, your fight or flight response kicked in.

You grabbed a hold of his arm flipping him onto his lap, straddling his chest. You pull you knife out pressing it against his neck. " Who the fuck are you and why did you follow me?" You inquired aggressively, not knowing if he was with or against you. "I'm an agent, ma'am. I work with the San Diego Mission Force." He pulls out his badge to backup his story.

Quite shocked you don't waste time getting off him and holding your arm out to help him up which he takes,"I apologize for my aggressiveness," you looked at him, he returned a smile.

'Fake it, till you make it, that's all you had to do.'

"You were doing what anyone should have done. You've got me quite wowed that you managed to do that after getting nearly killed." Smirking, you look down, 'this man was still flirting!'

Bang.

Your que to run. You swiftly kick his from underneath his feet causing him to fall to the ground with an 'oof' leaving his lips. Grabbing your gun, which is concealed in your purse, you point it straight in between that perfect pair of green eyes, "I'm warning you, try to follow me again and I won't hesitate to kill you."

He tries to get up but you stomp your heel onto his clothed chest causing him to cough after getting wind knocked out of his chest, "Do you know who you're messing with. And I legit' just saved your life," he groans as the gun never leaves your aim.

"The real question is do you know who you've messed with." And at that you're gone. Disappeared into thin air without a trace and you left him there on the ground as the rest of the daggers come running but there's no trace of you…

Thanks to @shanimallina87 and @callsign-magnolia for ideas and support

Tagging who may be interested:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@rosiahills22

@horseslovers2016

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

[canmom]

Animation Night 184: Mars Express

Animation Night is baaaaaack from Annecy break!

And yeah, the last couple weeks of this blog have been pretty Annecy focused here on the canmom entertainment sphere. And tonight that will continue! For tonight we shall right a wrong! And that wrong is...

...that wrong is that I didn't get to see Mars Express at Annecy last year. @mendely did and I was super jelly, OK!

For real though, this was among the hottest tickets at Annecy last year, and despite queuing a bunch of hours, I didn't stand a chance to get in without a reservation. But what is it? Well, it's a scifi movie directed by Jérémie Périn. Who's Jérémie Périn?

Well, the true veterans may recall Animation Night 1, when I showed you a certain music video for a song called Fantasy by DyE...

...that's not gonna embed, is it? But if you know, you know. (If you don't know, it's the one where the teens break into the swimming pool to make out and such and then a bunch of them turn into tentacle monsters.)

So Jérémie Périn is the guy who directed that! He's also well known for directing Lastman, a crowdfunded action series in which a boxer battles a bunch of superpowered agents to try to protect a psychic girl, not that you'd gather any of that from this trailer...

and writing for Crisis Jung by Bobbypills - don't blink or you might miss the boob-growing henshin and the guy with a chainsaw dick...

And while Crisis Jung isn't primarily his project, we can still definitely trust that when Périn is at the wheel, we'll seem some incredibly stylish, anime-inflected drama and also some proper freaky imagery now and again.

Mars Express, however, is Périn's first foray into film rather than TV animation, building on the big success of Lastman - and a pretty high-effort foray at that, taking some five years to make. And by all accounts it kicks total ass.

But what's it about? Classic cyberpunk noir material: a detective and the android replica of her partner return to their home planet Mars after apprehending a robot hacker. But the hacker is released, and they're given a new mission - to work with this hacker and go down to a colony where, ostensibly, humans and androids live in harmony, and track down a guy who jailbreaks the androids from their artificial constraints. That sounds pretty shady already, right? But the dirty secrets are only beginning.

Mars Express definitely pays its homages to those classic 90s anime films and OVAs like Ghost in the Shell and Armitage III, as well as games like Another World for the Amiga, but by all accounts gives it a fresh approach, with grounded characters - protagonist Aline struggling with alcoholism, her reconstructed partner Carlos with his floating holographic head carrying the whole identity issue of being a robot clone who's been rejected by his original's wife - which anchors plenty of juicy scifi concepts like renting out your brain as a computer, or something called 'resonance' which is how robots do it. What does that mean? The review I'm reading left it at that! Guess we'll find out.

Like most European productions it brought together a long list of production companies and it's a little tricky to figure out which ones are actual animation houses, but the main company seems to be 'Everybody on Deck'. They previously worked with Périn on Lastman, but otherwise largely seem to have worked on live action films. However, the animation was split among a variety of studios.

We can at least say that it brought in French animators from across the shop, some even on this very website. (At least I seem to recall seeing people having posted about having worked on it, though if I search now I mostly find peoples' reviews of the film). It's animation leans realist, with naturalistic motion taking advantage of anime-style 3s and 2s to give it a weighty feeling, embedding its characters in detailed environments with strong colour design...

And if we want to know more than that, we're in luck, since there's a pretty substantial 16-part making-of series partly available on Catsuka's youtube, starting with episode 1 showing the development of the script, with Périn and co-writer Laurent Sarfati bouncing ideas off each other. Only two other episodes are available: episode 11 shows some of the voice recording, and episode 16, which talks about the actual animation, interviewing various animators and showing some shot breakdowns. The last of these is probably the most interesting (to animators), talking about how the film went about realising Périn's 'precise, clinical' realist style.

The team were evidently very conscious of this being, for France, a first of its kind - a French-animated thriller targeting adults, with big ambitions to become a landmark film in French animation, able to stand up against the best anime. I'm not sure it's actually the first - for example, Summit of the Gods is also a tense, French-animated thriller with a realist art style! - but it's definitely a genre where there are very few examples to compare, and the team's ambition comes across as absolutely genuine.

That's probably enough to go on! We'll definitely also check out some of Périn's other work tonight, but Mars Express is our main feature! Starting in about an hour and a half at 8pm UK time, at our usual place, twitch.tv/canmom! Hope to see you there!

[thelamentknight]

The Glass Princess

Episode 8: Caras Cremaschi

“…so as it turns out, Crowley’s failures as a Headmaster were leaked to the Chairman. The Overblots, all the kidnappings, the school conditions, everything. So the Chairman decided that NRC needed a new Headmaster. Idia immediately went digging and found out that our new Headmaster will be Caras Cremaschi, a dragon fae from Briar Valley. He has apparently been Headmaster for a different school before, and was a knight in the war between Faes and Humans.”

Carmen listened quietly to Vil’s rambling gossip, her face in shock. It’s been 17 minutes into this hour and 45 minute drive, yet she was already hit with a news bomb. Crowley was getting replaced?! So much has happened in the past couple of days. First Carmen was leaving, then Lilia, and now Crowley?!

Vil took a sip of his apple juiced filled glass. “Honestly, it’s for the best. Considering the lack of care he has for us, it won’t be hard for Mr. Cremaschi to pass our nonexistent expectations.”

Carmen looked at the cup of pumpkin spice latte she had in her hands. (Every time she look at her cup of coffee, she remembered what Cater said about Basic White Girls and Pumpkin Spiced Latte). She took a sip as she looked out the window, admire the view of the busy fashionable streets.

“By the way, Sweet Potato…” Vil began “Lilia will be a having a farewell party tomorrow night. You can buy something for him when we arrive at Fairest City.”

Carmen looked back at Vil “…H-he is…?”

Vil nodded. “I’ll think of what to buy him as well. Unfortunately, I don’t know him personally, but I will try to find a gift that suits him well. He does like gothic, cute fashion…”

Carmen began silently brainstorming too. What would she buy for Lilia?

Vil pulled out his phone “Liebling, do you mind if we watch Gossip Girl on the TV?”

Carmen shook her head, signifying that she didn’t mind. Did she like Gossip Girl? Not really (though she did like some of the outfits in the show). But this was Vil’s secret comfort show, and it made him happy, so she didn’t mind watching it. Besides, he watched her favorite show, Princess Jellyfish, with her the last time they binged watched a show. It was only fair that Carmen watched his favorite show.

As Vil was screen sharing his phone with the TV, Carmen quietly observed the stylish black interior of the limo. Both the back and left side had soft, black cushioned, wide chairs. On the right side (aka in front of Carmen and Vil) was the bar, glasses neatly lined up, and a wide fridge of drinks below the bar. Above the bar were the windows and the tv. If Carmen wasn’t mistaken, this interior was similar to that of a luxury wedding limousine.

As Vil scrolled to pick an episode of Gossip Girl, Carmen continued to brainstorm gifts for Lilia as she watched the show.

~~~

“Aww, you got me Silent Hill? Why thank you, Carmen. How did you know?”

“S-Silver mentioned that y-you wanted t-to buy it…” Carmen quietly answered. She handed him the game, and he politely took it.

“Well, I again thank you for the gift~!” Lilia said cheerfully. “Oh! And by the way…”

Lilia magically summoned a gift wrapped in Diasomnia’s Black and Green colors. He handed it to Carmen.

“This is for you. Malleus told me that you were leaving soon, so I’ll give you my gift here. But don’t open it until you make it to the Academy, alright?”

Carmen nodded her head as she slowly took the gift.

The party in the Diasomnia party was…unique to say the least. “Party Rock Anthem” was playing, as Lilia said the song was a must have for parties. The food was amazing, as it was cooked by Trey and some Diasomnia students who were amazing cooks and bakers. The lights were a bit dim, but one could still see just fine. There were the typical party decorations: a couple of banners, balloons, and some other Diasomnia themed decorations. And of course, there was a dance floor in the middle with students dancing like crazy. Everything was all fine.

Until all the lights went out and the music stopped.

It was complete darkness. The room was filled with confused mumblings, people searching around. The sound of whirling wind began to fill the air, making people get a bit more panicked. Carmen looked around confusingly, until she heard two voices.

“…eet Potato? Oh Sweet Potato, where are you?”

“Ngh-! Stay where you are, Henchman! I’m coming!”

It was Vil and Grim.

“I-I’m right here…!” Carmen tried to raise her voice enough so the two could hear her. She heard footsteps coming her way. Vil got to her first.

“Sweet Potato, is that you?” Vil asked as he stood in front of her, barely able to see that she was standing there.

“…Y-yes…” She answered. Vil immediately hugged her protectively, causing her to squeak.

“Oh thank goodness-Carmen, you stay close to me, understand?” Even when Vil let go of the hug, he still had his arm protectively around her waist.

“O-okay…” She said. She squeaked again when she felt something hug her leg.

It was Grim.

“I got you, Henchman! If someone tries to hurt ya, they’ll have to get past me first!”

She blinked in shock.

“…T-thank you…” She whispered.

The wind in the room became stronger and louder. Vil’s grip on her waist was now a bit firmer, and Grim hugged her leg a bit tighter as he growled. Suddenly, dark blue fog began to whirl around one of Diasomnia’s window. The fog swirled, and a tornado of dark blue magic caught everyone’s attention.

Lightening struck from outside. The magic bursting into royal blue and purple sparkles.

The lights suddenly came on, but they remained dim.

Where the tornado of magic once was now stood a man.

The man was very pale. He was quite tall, had dark black hair and dragon horns. He wore an elegant, fancy attire, one with dark blues and dark purples, and was adorned in silver jewelry. It looked like attire someone of higher class in Briar Valley would wear. He stood straight, his presence demanding respect, his sharp dark eyes scanning the room.

Friends huddled closer. Many pulled out their pens, ready to protect each other.

Vil’s grip on Carmen’s waist was a bit tighter, bringer her close. He pulled out his spellbook, ready to attack.

Grim stood in front of Carmen, snarling as puffs of fire came from his mouth.

Silver and Sebek stood in front of Lilia and Malleus, their swords ready. Malleus was behind Lilia, his own pen out and ready.

Malleus looked at the man. Something about him seemed familiar, but he didn’t know what exactly.

But Lilia instantly recognized the man.

“Caras?”

Episode 1 // Previous // Next

[bengiyo]

This is a broad one, so take it whatever direction you wish: what are five shows, actors, or creative teams that have exceeded your expectations or pleasantly surprised you?

WOW. I struggle with broad asks because there's so much I like and think about.

Nadao Bangkok

I loved Nadao Bangkok so much. I had basically only engaged with really stylish Thai movies and media before BL. It's the kind of stuff you see at film festivals. I was not really used to the quick and efficient production processes and talent pools of the TV show production of BLs. I adapted, but it was such a relief to watch things like Project S, I Told Sunset About You, I Promised You the Moon, and Great Men Academy. I also just adore the talent they cultivated and how so many Nadao alums are still doing things in entertainment. They really did something special there.

Koisenu Futari (2022)

We talk so much about about representation and wanting to see more kinds of stories. I really loved the way this story explored the spectrum of asexuality alongside loneliness and the search for companionship. I love that it's a story about people who all care about each other, but they are all out of alignment for various reasons. I love that so many of the relationships don't resolve in a way that pairs people in an expected way. The sister left her cheating husband, Sakuko and Takashi don't live together, and Kazu was actually able to just be her friend. It's an unexpected delight.

For the Boys (2021)

I will never stop pimping this show out. Many of the folks are new to BL and queer TV in general, so they don't even remember Noah's Arc. I've been wanting more shows about black queer friend groups, and this show delivered. Every week I check on Slay TV to see what else they're up to. This show features a femme/GNC character finding their way through presenting publicly and dating, a fat black gay man struggling with body image and race identity issues, and a promiscuous black gay man struggling with his place in the world. It's a nuanced look at queer friendship, and I really wish more people would watch it.

Ossan's Love: In the Sky (2019)

I already apologized to this show once, but I'll bring it up again. This AU season could have been a real flop, but in some ways it's my favorite. I love doing an AU as a way to soft reboot your characters and dig deeper into their interiority before returning to them years later. I like Haruta so much more because of this season. I also really love the bonds between men in this series and the ways they push each other. It's really excellent, and this is a special franchise we have been lucky enough to return to multiple times.

Sherri and Teri Polo on The Fosters (2013-2018)

In an era where almost every TV lesbian died, these two delivered some of the best onscreen chemistry I've ever seen. They felt like a married couple for the entirety of a dramatic and often-messy Freeform (formerly ABC Family) TV show. We talk about Business Gay Performance (BGP) around here a lot, and these two are masters of their craft. At no point did you ever think these two actresses were secretly dating or cheating on their partners, but they were open about how much they loved each other and how important the friendship they built on this show was to them. I have immense admiration for the work they did and continue to do in the queer space. We are really lucky that these two took on the role of playing loving moms to all them kids, who got to also got to have a romantic and sexual relationship with each other onscreen.

Thank you for the ask! Since it wasn't explicitly BL, I decided to have some fun.

[euclydia-family-au]

Chapter 6: Confrontation | Euclydia family AU 

IN ENGLISH:

The next day, things weren't as Stan expected.

To begin with, during breakfast, the couple started asking questions.

—Where did you live before coming here, dear heart? —Elena asked sweetly.

—Well... at Glass Shard Beach... a small coastal town in New Jersey...

—It's relatively close, then... —Erick mused thoughtfully.

—Why are you asking? —Stan asked, confused.

—Tomorrow we're going to New Jersey to attend some important matters, and we wanted to take you with us... Besides, I remember that you only had a canvas bag, which means that the rest of your things are there... —Elena stated calmly, as if talking about the weather.

Stan felt his blood run cold. Going home? To face his father for just showing up? And with a brother who hates him?

—P-but... —Stan tried to object, but Erick interrupted.

—The absurd debt your father owes us will be paid in exchange for your custody, don't you remember? Moreover —said the man as he pulled out some papers—, your brother was accepted into that university... so you have nothing to fear...

—But...

—And if he tries to hurt you, we'll sue... Well, in reality, you should sue him for child neglect and abuse, but it's your decision... Knowing men like that, money will make him shut up —Elena sighed, somewhat annoyed.

Said that, they continued eating breakfast, while Stan remained silent, worried.

This definitely was a death sentence, but, if he didn't do it, they couldn't recover Stan's documents or his things... Besides, he wanted to say goodbye to his mom and Ford... maybe he could leave a message for Shermie... And maybe he could apologize before leaving...

The day passed quickly and the three were ready for the next day. They dined, watched a movie on TV and then went to bed.

The next morning, they woke up early and climbed into the most expensive car that Elena had in her collection. Indeed, that woman loves cars.

The journey was relatively quick, at least an hour, before arriving at the location. The coast was the same as he remembered. He had been away for three months; it shouldn't have been strange to see the beach, but he no longer felt accustomed to the sight of his childhood, perhaps because that sight brought him painful memories.

When they arrived at the Pines house, Stan remained frozen in his seat.

—You don't have to get out if you're not ready... —Elena stroked his hair.

—... I just want to say goodbye... but I'm afraid... —whispered ashamed.

—We won't let anyone hurt you... —Erick looked serious.

With that promise, the three got out of the vehicle. Filbrick and Caryn saw the car from the second floor and the man in a hat was the first to get out.

—Good day... afternoon... —the swindler's face faded when he recognized Stanley.

Caryn and Ford were the next to get out. Caryn almost dropped a sob while Ford remained frozen.

Stan hadn't realized, but his etiquette lessons and new routine made him look like one of the Szyfr pair. Now he wore formal clothes, a stylish haircut that showed how much his hair had grown in those months and a serious expression.

Elena wore a beautiful blue dress with a short cut, while Erick wore a leather jacket that would make anyone think he was a pilot.

—Good afternoon, Mr. Pines... We've come to negotiate...

All present froze at hearing Elena's voice, a serious woman who exuded security and strength, with an imposing presence.

—What do you want to negotiate about? —Filbrick was confused.

—About your son, Stanley... and everything that happened three months ago...

Ford and Stan tensed at the same time.

—We'll start this simply... —said Erick—. Did you throw out a teenager with nothing but a canvas bag?

—... That's not your business... —the swindler's face showed contained anger.

—Oh, believe me, it matters... —Elena placed some papers on the counter—. According to you, your son deserves to be on the street because he couldn't impress a pathetic university... and that unless he earned a fortune, he wouldn't return home... Well, then let's make this simpler.

Erick took the papers and gave some to Ford.

—These documents confirm that you'll go to West Coast Tech... In my personal opinion, I would never recommend such a pretentious school; I would choose Backupsmore, it's much better... The only problem is some minor issues, but it's a good university —Erick looked serious.

Ford took the papers in shock.

—And in fact, they would have disqualified you; they didn't care... If you want to blame your brother, it won't help... Enjoy being a nobody at West Coast Tech and never standing out... Many drop out in the second year... Good luck then... It's a shame... You could have been an excellent student in my school...

Ford opened his eyes, unable to process everything.

—And since we've settled that... let's move on to the next topic... your "debt" ... You said you wanted a fortune to let Stan come home?

Filbrick didn't respond, only looked at Stanley.

—I'd like to offer you something more... custody of your children... in exchange for all the money you can ask for —Elena spoke with a subtle smile.

All were surprised with those words; even Filbrick Pines was taken aback.

—What did you just say?

—What you heard, Mr. Pines... —Erick and his wife smiled—. We've considered the idea of making a fair deal... How much do you think your children are worth? Name a price for each one.

Caryn let out a choked sob; she was the only one who seemed worried about two strangers taking her children.

—No! This is crazy! —Her voice trembled with anguish, but Erick approached.

—Relax... we have no bad intentions... —his look was sincere—. Shall we let them discuss while we talk in another room?

Caryn looked at Stanley; he looked nervous, but nodded. He was only anxious to leave so he wouldn't hear Filbrick yell. Everyone else left slowly while Elena and Filbrick stared at each other, looking for weaknesses; they were two negotiators, a swindler against a business magnate (although the man knew nothing about it).

Meanwhile, Stan, Ford, Caryn and Erick were on the second floor of the building. Ford looked at the documents without believing it.

—Well... to start this little conversation... We want to help your children, Caryn... Stan told you that you worry about their future... and we believe we can help them get out of this place and have a brilliant future, not just academically —Erick looked at Caryn kindly—. We know you want them to be safe... we can make that happen... we just need your permission...

Caryn looked at her children, at her clever son Stanford and her free-spirited Stanley.

—... Do you... really want to take my babies? —Caryn didn't oppose; she was sad because she knew that in that place she couldn't protect her children.

—We just want to give them a future...

All were silent. Stanley looked at Stanford, who was silent, it seemed he was reading something.

—This letter... —whispered while showing a document to Erick—. Is... is it from the ones...?

—It's the letter about why they didn't accept you into that university... Yes... they said they didn't like it when you gave up at the slightest mistake... that when your invention failed, you gave up, you didn't try to fix it... Probably you did, but, in their words... "In our university we appreciate hard work, but also the power of adaptation and the ability to prove oneself, even if there are mistakes"... The truth is, West Coast Tech is a mediocre university... They only say that few students pass because they're bad at their work... In my case, no student has failed, because I taught them to pass... work hard and adapt to circumstances... You're brilliant, Stanford... you deserve something better than a university that didn't give you a chance until I showed up.

Stanford looked at Erick and then at Stan, it seemed he was organizing his disrupted thoughts.

—... Ford... —Stan approached cautiously, nervous—. Can... can you go wherever you want... I never wanted to ruin this for you... only... only I...

Ford raised his eyes, annoyed, expecting apologies.

—... I'm sorry... for everything... —Stan seemed more sincere—. I wish I hadn't ruined things... you don't have to say anything... I just want you to know that... I just want to make things right...

Erick approached Stan, putting a hand on his shoulder.

—If you want... we can pack your things...

Stan looked at Stanford; whatever his response, staying in that house was no longer an option. He had felt the warmth of a warm place and wanted to leave... not without saying goodbye first.

—Just me...

Caryn understood that and decided to take Erick to the boys' room to start packing. She had already made a decision.

Both brothers looked at each other for a few seconds before Ford spoke.

—And I... —he began Ford—... I still... I don't know what to say to you... —whispered seriously.

—... What? What are you talking about?

—I mean... I'm going to stay with Erick and Elena for a while... not forever, but... they said I had an opportunity to go to university... they said if I wanted to stay with them I had to study and learn things... I don't know how I ended up in this situation, but... I suppose it's worth a try...

—... Pff... —Ford tried to suppress a laugh—. Are you serious? —he said between laughs.

—... Yes... —Stan repeated, a phrase that Erick often said to him, which began to comfort him.

—... Good... —Ford sighed between laughs—. Maybe... when I graduate... I'll see you... —he didn't sound sure.

—You don't have to decide now... —Stan repeated, a phrase that Erick often said to him, which began to comfort him.

—... Good... —Ford sighed between laughs—. I owe you... for the apologies... and for this —he pointed to the papers, but he didn't sound genuine.

—Don't thank me...

Both were silent until Erick and Caryn returned with some boxes.

—Here are some boxes... I'm sorry, it's not much... but I hope it's enough...

Stan hugged her with warmth.

—Thank you, mom... —Stan smiled warmly.

Caryn hugged him back and wiped away tears.

—Be careful, my son... —she whispered while stroking his hair.

—I will, mom... —Stan whispered back.

Meanwhile, Elena was talking with Filbrick. The conversation was quite tense between the two. On the other hand, the proposals and money were something that Filbrick couldn't refuse, he desired the money.

—So... what's your choice?

Filbrick looked serious and annoyed; he didn't want to talk to her, he didn't like that woman talking as if she had any right... On the other hand, the proposals and the money were something he couldn't refuse, he desired the money.

—How much are we talking about?

—Approximately $21,681 dollars... But the price will increase if that's what you want...

Filbrick looked thoughtful; while Elena felt her body begging her to hit that type.

When they reached an agreement, Stanley left with his backpack. Erick carried some boxes in his arms and Caryn continued crying.

—Here are some boxes... I'm sorry, it's not much... but I hope it's enough...

Stan hugged her with warmth.

—Thank you, mom... —Stan smiled warmly.

Caryn hugged him back and wiped away tears.

—Be careful, my son... —she whispered while stroking his hair.

—I will, mom... —Stan whispered back.

Meanwhile, Elena was talking with Filbrick. The conversation was quite tense between the two. On the other hand, the proposals and money were something that Filbrick couldn't refuse, he desired the money.

—So... what's your choice?

Filbrick looked serious and annoyed; he didn't want to talk to her, he didn't like that woman talking as if she had any right... On the other hand, the proposals and the money were something he couldn't refuse, he desired the money.

—How much are we talking about?

—Approximately $21,681 dollars... But the price will increase if that's what you want...

Filbrick looked thoughtful; while Elena felt her body begging her to hit that type.

When they reached an agreement, Stanley left with his backpack. Erick carried some boxes in his arms and Caryn continued crying.

—Now that all this is over... Long of my property —were the last words of the father of the twins before going to his office.

All were silent, processing what had just happened.

—Well... at least we'll have twins... —Erick smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

EN ESPAÑOL:

Al día siguiente, las cosas no fueron como Stan esperaba.

Para empezar, durante el desayuno, la pareja comenzó a hacer preguntas.

—¿Dónde vivías antes de llegar aquí, corazón? —preguntó Elena con voz dulce.

—Pues... en Glass Shard Beach... un pequeño pueblo costero en Nueva Jersey...

—Está relativamente cerca, entonces... —dijo Erick pensativo.

—¿Por qué preguntan? —confundido, inquirió Stan.

—Mañana iremos a Nueva Jersey para atender algunos asuntos importantes, y queríamos llevarte con nosotros... Además, recuerdo que solo tenías una bolsa de lona, lo que significa que el resto de tus cosas están allá... —Elena declaró con tranquilidad, como si hablara del clima.

Stan sintió que se le congelaba la sangre. ¿Volver a casa? ¿Con su padre esperándolo para darle una paliza por siquiera asomarse? ¿Y con un hermano que lo odia?

—P-pero... —Stan intentó oponerse, pero Erick lo interrumpió.

—La "deuda" tan absurda de tu padre la pagaremos a cambio de tu custodia, ¿recuerdas? Además —dijo el hombre mientras sacaba unos papeles—, tu hermano fue aceptado en esa universidad... así que no tienes nada que temer...

—Pero...

—Y si intenta lastimarte, lo demandaremos... Bueno, en realidad, tú debes demandarlo por negligencia infantil y abuso, pero es tu decisión... Conociendo a ese tipo de hombres, el dinero lo hará callarse —Elena suspiró, algo molesta.

Dicho esto, continuaron desayunando, mientras Stan se mantenía en silencio, preocupado.

Esto definitivamente era una sentencia de muerte, pero, de no hacerlo, no podrían recuperar los documentos de Stan ni sus cosas... Además, quería despedirse de su mamá y de Ford... tal vez pudiera dejarle un mensaje a Shermie... Y tal vez pudiera disculparse antes de irse...

El día pasó volando y los tres ya tenían todo listo para el día siguiente. Cenaron, vieron una película en el televisor y luego fueron a dormir.

A la mañana siguiente, se levantaron temprano y se subieron al auto más caro que había en la colección de Elena. En serio, esa mujer ama los autos.

El viaje fue relativamente rápido, de al menos una hora, antes de llegar al lugar. La costa era igual a como la recordaba. Habían sido tres meses fuera de casa; no debería ser extraño ver la playa, pero ya no se sentía acostumbrado a la vista de su infancia, tal vez porque esa vista le traía recuerdos dolorosos.

Cuando llegaron a la casa de los Pines, Stan se quedó en su asiento, congelado.

—No tienes que bajar si no estás listo... —Elena acarició su cabello.

—... Solo quiero despedirme de ellos... pero tengo miedo... —susurró avergonzado.

—No dejaremos que nadie te lastime... —Erick se veía serio.

Con esa promesa, los tres bajaron del vehículo. Filbrick y Caryn vieron el auto desde el segundo piso y el hombre de sombrero fue el primero en bajar.

—Buenas... tardes... —el semblante de estafador se desvaneció al reconocer a Stanley.

Caryn y Ford fueron los siguientes en bajar. Caryn casi soltó un sollozo mientras Ford se quedó congelado.

Stan no se había dado cuenta, pero las clases de etiqueta y su nueva rutina hicieron que, al lado de la pareja Szyfr, se viera como uno más de ellos. Ahora usaba ropa formal, un peinado elegante que dejaba ver cuánto había crecido su cabello en esos meses y una mirada seria.

Elena lucía un hermoso vestido azul con un corte de pelo corto, mientras que Erick vestía una chaqueta de cuero que haría que cualquiera pensara que era aviador.

—Buenas tardes, señor Pines... Hemos venido a negociar...

Todos los presentes se quedaron paralizados al oír la voz de Elena, una mujer seria que denotaba seguridad y fuerza, con una presencia imponente.

—¿Sobre qué le gustaría negociar? —Filbrick estaba confundido.

—Sobre su hijo, Stanley... y todo lo que pasó hace meses...

Ford y Stan se tensaron al mismo tiempo.

—Empezaremos esto de una manera sencilla... —dijo Erick—. ¿Usted echó de su casa a un adolescente sin nada más que una bolsa de lona?

—... Ese no es un asunto que a usted le debería importar... —el semblante de Filbrick mostraba ira contenida.

—Oh, créame que nos importa... —Elena colocó unos papeles sobre el mostrador—. Según usted, su hijo merece estar en la calle por un error, porque su hijo, Stanford, no pudo impresionar a una patética universidad... y que a menos que consiguiera una fortuna, no volvería a casa... Bien, entonces hagamos esto más sencillo.

Erick tomó los papeles y le entregó algunos a Ford.

—Estos documentos confirman que irás a West Coast Tech... En lo personal, jamás recomendaría una escuela tan pretenciosa; elegiría Backupsmore, es mucho mejor... El único problema son algunas alimañas, pero es una buena universidad —Erick se veía serio.

Ford tomó los papeles en estado de shock.

—Y de hecho, ellos, de igual forma, iban a descalificarte; a ellos no les importabas... Así que si quieres culpar a tu hermano, no te servirá de nada... Que disfrutes de ser una persona más del montón en West Coast Tech y no sobresalir jamás... Muchos renuncian en el segundo año... Buena suerte entonces... Es una lástima... Hubieras sido un excelente estudiante en mi escuela...

Ford abrió los ojos, anonadado, sin poder procesar todo eso.

—Ya que arreglamos esto... vamos con el siguiente tema a tratar... su "deuda" ... ¿Dijo que quería una fortuna a cambio de que Stan volviera a casa?

Filbrick no respondió, solo miraba a Stanley.

—Déjeme ofrecerle algo más... la custodia de sus hijos... a cambio de todo el dinero que pueda pedir —Elena habló con una sonrisa sutil.

Todos se sorprendieron con esas palabras; nadie esperaba esa propuesta, incluso el mismo Filbrick Pines quedó en shock.

—... ¿Q-Qué acaba de decir?

—Lo que escuchó, señor Pines... —Erick sonrió al igual que su esposa—. Hemos considerado la idea de ofrecerle un trato justo... ¿Cuánto dinero cree usted que valen sus hijos? Diga una cifra por cada uno.

Caryn soltó un jadeo ahogado; ella era la única que parecía preocupada por que dos desconocidos se llevaran a sus hijos.

—¡No! ¡Esto es una locura! —Su voz temblaba con angustia, pero Erick se acercó.

—Tranquila... nosotros no tenemos malas intenciones... —su mirada era sincera—. ¿Qué tal si dejamos que ellos discutan, mientras nosotros hablamos en otra habitación?

Caryn miró a Stanley; él se veía nervioso, pero asintió. Solo estaba ansioso por salir de ahí para no oír a Filbrick gritar. Todos los demás se alejaron despacio mientras Elena y Filbrick se miraban fijamente, buscando debilidades; eran dos negociadores, un estafador contra un magnate de los negocios (aunque el hombre no sabía nada de eso).

Mientras tanto, Stan, Ford, Caryn y Erick estaban en el segundo piso del edificio. Ford miraba los documentos sin poder creerlo.

—Bueno... para empezar esta pequeña conversación... Lo que queremos hacer es ayudar a tus hijos, Caryn... Stan nos contó que te preocupas mucho por su futuro... y creemos que podemos ayudarlos a salir de este lugar y que tengan un grandioso futuro, no solo académico —Erick miró a Caryn con amabilidad—. Sabemos que quieres que ellos estén a salvo... podemos hacer que eso pase... solo necesitamos tu permiso...

Caryn miró a sus hijos, a su ingenioso hijo Stanford y a su pequeño espíritu libre Stanley.

—... ¿Usted... realmente quiere que deje que se lleven a mis bebés? —Caryn no se oponía; estaba triste porque sabía que en ese lugar no podría proteger a sus hijos.

—Solo queremos que Stanley y Stanford tengan un futuro...

Todos se quedaron en silencio. Stanley miró de reojo a Stanford, quien estaba en silencio, parecía que estaba leyendo algo.

—Esta carta... —susurró mientras le mostraba un documento a Erick—. ¿Es... es de los que...?

—Es la carta sobre por qué no te aceptaron en esa universidad... Sí... dijeron que no les gustaba que fueras alguien que se rendía a la mínima equivocación... que cuando tu invento falló, te rendiste, no intentaste arreglarlo... Probablemente lo intentaste, pero, en sus palabras... "En nuestra universidad apreciamos el trabajo duro, pero también el poder de la adaptación y la capacidad de probarse a uno mismo, incluso si hay fallas"... De las pocas cosas que puedo decir que la escuela enseña bien es que, aunque no todo salga según tu plan, sepas manejarlo... La verdad, West Coast Tech es una universidad mediocre... Solo dicen que pocos estudiantes aprueban porque son pésimos en su trabajo... En mi caso, ningún estudiante ha reprobado, porque les enseñé que deben aprobar... trabajar duro y adaptarse a las circunstancias... Eres brillante, Stanford... mereces algo mejor que una universidad que no te dio oportunidad hasta que yo hice acto de presencia.

Stanford miró a Erick y luego a Stan, parecía que estaba organizando sus pensamientos destrozados.

—... Ford... —Stan se acercó con cautela, nervioso—. Puedes... puedes ir a donde tú quieras... yo jamás quise arruinar esto para ti... solo...

Ford alzó la mirada, molesto, esperando excusas.

—... Lo siento... por todo... —Stan parecía más sincero—. Desearía no haber arruinado las cosas... no tienes que decir nada... solo... solo quiero que sepas que... lo único que quise fue que estuviéramos juntos... tú y yo contra el mundo... ahora solo quiero arreglar lo que hice...

Erick se acercó a Stan, poniendo una mano en su hombro.

—Si deseas... podemos empacar tus cosas... —dijo con suavidad.

Stan miró a Stanford; sea cual sea su respuesta, quedarse en esa casa ya no era una opción. Había sentido lo que era estar en un lugar cálido y quería irse... no sin antes despedirse.

—Yo... solo...

Caryn entendió eso y decidió llevar a Erick a la habitación de los gemelos para empezar a empacar. Ya había tomado una decisión.

Ambos hermanos se miraron por unos segundos antes de que Ford hablara.

—Yo... —empezó Ford—... aún... aun no sé qué decirte... —susurró serio.

—... No tienes que responder... solo... quiero despedirme...

—¿Qué? ¿De... de qué hablas?

—... Me quedaré con Erick y Elena por un tiempo... no para siempre, pero... dijeron que tenía una oportunidad para ir a la universidad... dijeron que si quería quedarme con ellos debía estudiar y aprender cosas... no sé cómo terminé en esto, pero... supongo que vale la pena intentarlo...

—... Pff... —Ford trató de aguantar la risa—. ¿Hablas en serio? —dijo entre risitas.

—... S-si... —asintió—. Lo sé, es estúpido...

—... No, creo que lo entiendo... —Ford se recompuso—. Es una buena oportunidad... yo la tomaría... pero... no sé... no necesito eso... pero tú sí...

Stan procesó esa frase; trató de no tomarlo como una burla.

—... Bueno... —dijo Ford después de unos minutos—. Tal vez... cuando me gradúe... te vaya a ver... —no sonaba seguro.

—... No tienes que aceptar ahora... —Stan repitió, una frase que Erick le decía constantemente, la cual empezaba a brindarle consuelo.

—... Bueno... —susurró Ford—. Yo... te agradezco... por las disculpas... y por esto —señaló los papeles, pero no sonaba genuino.

—No me agradezcas...

Ambos se quedaron en silencio hasta que Erick y Caryn regresaron con unas cajas.

—Aquí están algunas cajas... lo siento, no es mucho... pero espero que sea suficiente...

Stan la abrazó con cariño.

—Muchas gracias, mamá... —Stan sonrió cálidamente.

Caryn sonrió entre lágrimas y correspondió el abrazo.

—Ten mucho cuidado, mi niño... —susurró mientras acariciaba su cabello.

—... Igualmente, mamá... Te amo... —susurró.

Mientras tanto, Elena hablaba con Filbrick. La conversación era bastante tensa entre ambos.

—Entonces... ¿cuál es su elección?

Filbrick se veía serio y molesto; no quería hablar con ella, no le gustaba que esa mujer hablara como si tuviera algún derecho... Por otro lado, las propuestas y el dinero eran algo que no podía negar, deseaba el dinero.

—... ¿De cuánto estamos hablando?

—$21,681 dólares aproximadamente... Pero el precio crecerá si es lo que quiere...

Filbrick pareció pensativo; mientras tanto, Elena sentía cómo cada fibra de su cuerpo le suplicaba golpear a ese tipo.

Cuando llegaron a un acuerdo, Stanley caminó hacia la puerta con su mochila. Erick llevaba unas cuantas cajas en sus brazos y Caryn seguía llorando.

Filbrick los ignoró a todos, mientras veía cómo Ford era el único que no iba con ellos.

—¿Cuánto sería por los dos? —preguntó mientras miraba a Ford.

Stanford se quedó congelado al escuchar eso.

—¿Q-Qué? —en shock, el de seis dedos empezó a sentir un dolor en el pecho.

—¿Cuánto quieres por los dos? —sin dejar de mirar a Elena.

—... Veamos... Siendo gemelos... $43,362... pero, como dije, podemos ofrecer más que eso.

—$500,000 y te puedes llevar al fenómeno de seis dedos...

—... Señor... —comenzó a decir Elena, apretando los puños, pero Erick la detuvo.

—Aceptamos la oferta... Le daremos el dinero para el fin de semana... Solo necesitamos que firme algunos papeles, el siguiente mes iremos ante un tribunal y podrá renunciar a la custodia de ambos.

Erick sacó de su portafolio unas hojas, documentos que ni Stan ni Ford entendían del todo.

Filbrick los revisó de manera superficial antes de sonreír.

—Entonces nos veremos en el tribunal —el hombre tuvo el descaro de reír.

Elena estuvo a punto de golpear al idiota de no ser porque Ford estaba tambaleándose. Actuó por instinto y lo ayudó a no caerse.

—Ahora que todo esto terminó... Largo de mi propiedad —fueron las últimas palabras del padre de los gemelos antes de ir a su oficina.

Todos se quedaron en silencio, procesando lo que acababa de pasar.

—Bueno... al menos tendremos gemelos... —Erick sonrió, tratando de animar la situación.

[justforbooks]

Maggie Tabberer

Vogue model who became the face of Australian fashion. The glamorous model also had successful careers as editor, TV presenter and fashion designer, bringing sophistication into Australian homes

Before Instagram influencers and reality show home renovators there was Maggie Tabberer, whose poise and urbane advice on fashion and decorating made her a household name. Known fondly as Maggie T, she has died just days before her 88th birthday.

Tabberer was, quite literally, the face of Australian fashion. Photographed by Lord Snowdon in 1960, she was the first local model to appear on the cover of just-launched Australian Vogue.

But there was much more to Tabberer than beauty.

She was a media pioneer, entrepreneur, fashion designer and television presenter. Her slicked-back hair – and later, elegant headscarves – made her instantly recognisable, and together with her stylish, loose-fitting wardrobe gave her cult-like status among a generation of Australian women brought up to believe you were naked without pantyhose and a girdle.

With a face that launched a thousand products, Tabberer continued to work in the fashion industry after her active modelling days were over. In 1981 she launched a plus-size clothing label, Maggie T, the same year she became fashion editor of the Australian Women’s Weekly where she stayed for 15 years. Television did not escape her sights – Tabberer was so successful she won back-to-back Gold Logies, in 1970 and 1971.

Margaret May Trigar was born in Adelaide on 11 December 1936, the youngest of Alfred and Molly’s five children. At 17, the rebellious teenager married Charles Tabberer, a 35-year-old car dealer, and by 21, she was the restless mother of two daughters, Amanda and Brooke. Walking past a modelling school one day, she signed up for classes and was an instant success. Soon Tabberer was working in Melbourne where she met and fell in love with the renowned German photographer Helmut Newton. Tabberer’s marriage broke down and she and Newton embarked on what she described as “a perfect, lovely” affair.

With her marriage over and Newton now living in Paris, Tabberer embraced new opportunities, moving to Sydney with her daughters. Here she met her second husband and great love, the Italian restaurateur Ettore Prossimo. The couple married in 1967, but later that year their 10-day-old son Francesco died from sudden infant death syndrome.

“You know, you live and go on doing what you’re doing, but you know you’re not joyous. There’s no joy for a long time,” Tabberer said in a 2011 interview.

Since 1964, Tabberer had been a panellist on Beauty and the Beast, a talkshow pitting the views of women against those of men. It was the ideal vehicle for audiences to appreciate the grace and good humour with which Tabberer dealt with her weight – and her sorrow – and in 1967 she was offered her own daily chatshow, Maggie.

Prossimo and Tabberer separated after 17 years of marriage, but reignited their friendship before his death in 1996. Throughout the 1980s, 1990s and 2000s Tabberer continued to appear on television in a range of lifestyle programs. She and her then-partner Richard Zachariah hosted The Home Show on the ABC from 1990 to 1995, when they split up. The couple never professed to be experts, but as they had renovated six of their own homes over six years they had plenty of experience.

Tabberer was made a member of the Order of Australia in 1998 for her services to the fashion industry. The artist Paul Newton twice entered his portraits of her into the Archibald prize, most recently in 2020. Her biography, Maggie, was published in 1999. Contemporary recognition for her contribution to Australian fashion eluded her; in 2019 she was nominated as an Australian fashion laureate, but ultimately overlooked.

In 2016, the happily single Tabberer came out of retirement to appear on the cover of the Weekly and share her thoughts on eight decades of life.

“At 80 I’ve come to my senses about men,” she said. “I’m not going to be getting into bed and taking my clothes off – don’t be ridiculous. I’ve still got a healthy ego.”

Maggie Tabberer was successful both in front of the camera and behind it, as well as in print journalism, design and marketing. Throughout her career, she successfully manoeuvred her personal brand, before anyone had put a name to that art.

Tabberer is survived by her daughters Amanda and Brooke and by her grandson Marco.

🔔 Maggie Tabberer: Born 11 December 1936, died 6 December 2024, aged 87.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[mrs-monaghan]

It doesn't mean JK doesn't trust Jimin

Proceeds to write an essay which only means JK doesn't trust Jimin with RM at all. Oh and should I remind you RM and Jimin and living in same apartment complex???? While JK is living in whole another place ???

Tbh IF jkk are a couple I can die on a hill to prove Jimin will never be unfaithful to JK but things you all write these days are just not it. For any reader it strikes as JK is too insecure about Minimoni's relationship. All while it's obvious RM is someone Jimin respects deeply and RM is always ready to help Jimin with anything. Their bond is strong because both are very mature people who mutually respect each other.

People like you who lack reading comprehension skills really do my head in. If you don't understand something come and ask me. I am MORE than happy to explain and clarify.

First of all, anyone with eyes can tell JK has never truly settled in Brunnen. People make jokes about him living like a frat boy because of how empty the place looks. It's coz that's not his home. His home is where Jimin is. Them fighting on that run episode was not for naught. First the lamp

then the couch and TV

That seemed way too natural. Like they've done that many times before. Jimin knew they would have different opinions coz its happened b4. And JK has great taste btw. Him and Jhope are the neatest members so I expect his actual home looks very stylish and very well furnished. Nine-one is their shared home so Minimoni being neighbours is irrelevant.

When exactly did I say Jimin has ever been or would ever be unfaithful to JK??? I see its come for Shaz day, today. I have said over a million times Jikook have been with each other and only each other since day one. I have also said many times all members not just Minimoni love and respect each other. But I guess u didn't see those posts, huh? How convinient.

My post was about one particular topic and that topic was the only one that I addressed. It had nothing to do with how Minimoni are outside of Jikook.

You saying that post was about how JK doesn't trust Jimin is fucking bull. JK being possessive and territorial over Jimin has nothing to do with trust. I've said it before, but if Jikook were not hiding, if they were public, JK wouldn't act the way that he does. He wouldn't need to claim Jimin.

things you write these days are just not it.

Nigga no one is forcing you to be here. Unfollow or block, you don't gotta see my shit! You're coming off like you don't believe that JK gets bothered or annoyed which is just lies Jikookers tell themselves for what reason, idk.

This man used the wrong fucking entrance just so he would be the one sitting next to Jimin and not Suga. Riddle me why he would do that? Please.

I'm guessing you also ignore the tongue in cheek thing he used to do when bothered or annoyed? Well then explain to me why he does it here when he hears that Jimin, V and Jin went hiking together.

Last but not least this anti Minimoni moment where JK touches RM but when Jimin reaches for him JK prevents that from happening. It's very subtle and easy to miss but it's been kindly zoomed in for us here with dramatic music to boot

(Watch V watching JK's hands and see for yourself that that really happened. V sees everything) Here is the original thanks to @chim-chim1310 as always 😘😘 It makes sense that JK did that since everyone was just praising RM in that moment. 🤭🤭

But my point is this is just a JK thing that has nothing to do with him not trusting Jimin. From what I've gathered its actually normal in SK for men to be this territorial about their other halves.

I know it's taboo among Jikookers to talk about this side of Jikook. But just because I came along and I ain't afraid to bring up this sensitive topic doesn't mean u can come for me and call me a liar. You don't like me, block me. You wanna stick around then bloody get used to it.

Normalise discussing Jimin and JK being bothered by certain things when it comes to eo.

Oh! And should I remind you RM and Jimin and living in the same apartment complex????

With 4 question marks. Bitch please! As if we don't all know about this account that sells beds and only follows Jikook.

Jikook were rumoured to be seen walking into a furniture store only for this account to follow them not long after. Now they're only following Jimin but that's because Mr. Rebel deleted his IG. Jikook live together anon, so don't talk to me about Minimoni being neighbours. It means fuck all in relation to the topic at hand.

Next time fix your tone when you need clarification from me or keep your damn reservations to yourself.