#I hate how this turned out!!!! I wanted the cute art style with dot eyes but it looked weird

[howlingaround]

The Three Doctors, 1973

[theseathatsparkles]

On Bugs

so for creative writing class we were told to imitate Amy Dillard’s writing style. This is the essay on bugs that I ended up making. Not Bleach, I know, but I thought someone might enjoy it. 

This took so long to write oh my god ;-;

also, I am fully aware that not all insects are bugs, and that spiders aren’t either of the two, but. bug is much more fun to say.

Word count - 1500 on the dot

@despairforme THE BUG ESSAY. IT’S HERE. @onenicebugperday you inspired me to write a four page essay about bugs i hope you’re happy

When I was in third grade, I dropped a dandelion down the back of my classmate’s shirt. She was upset, having thought the rather inconspicuous dandelion was a daddy long-legs spider. She’d screamed, slapped me on the chest in an attempt to escape her arachnid harasser, and had decided to wage war against me for the rest of our time together in school.

I never was afraid of spiders the way she was. Spiders and snakes and all sorts of bugs, so long as I could be assured they weren't poisonous, had always held a special place in my heart - and, more often than not, my hand. Growing up in woody, wet Germany gave me a healthy dosage of ladybugs, crickets, and snails at a young age, and I never looked at a bug with anything other than fascination. 

It’s the middle of winter, now. There aren’t many bugs around. Forty-two little silhouettes in the light above my desk, but none of them move, empty exoskeletons like shells. They’re probably dry, and if I touched one I’m sure it would crumble under my fingers. There seem to be more of them every time I look up; it’s the middle of winter, so the warmth of the indoors must be especially tantalizing. Right now, there isn’t any wind outside, but the world seems to be painted in shades of grey. Even looking outside makes you feel cold, and the drifts of iced-over snow outside of the window just emphasize this.

I have mixed feelings about winter. I love the snow, love having an excuse to stay inside wrapped in blankets on the days I don’t have school. I love that there aren’t mosquitoes to follow me around - I must taste good to them, since they always seem to swarm me. But the lack of the bugs I do like - spiders, caterpillars, grasshoppers, even the jeweled dragonflies that swarm our canoes in summer - makes winter feel especially harsh. 

When I’m feeling more grey than usual, I turn to the internet to soothe me. My computer has a tab open - one nice bug per day. The third picture that appears on image search is a gorgeous skeleton leaf moth, the row under that containing a domino cuckoo bee. I smile, looking at the pictures.  A photo of a hissing cockroach wearing a tiny paper party hat jumps out at me, curled around a leaf. I click on the picture, save it to my gmail by emailing it to myself. I’ll take some time to admire them later.

The bigger the bug the better, of course. Small bugs are hard to track, and the idea of one getting somewhere without me knowing about it gives me chills. That’s probably why I hate ants; they swarm up your legs and into your shoes and socks and it takes far too long to extract them all, and you feel phantom itches on your body for the next day or so. 

The fear of ants is called myrmecophobia, and often goes hand-in-hand with entomophobia - the fear of insects. When I was young - still in Elementary school, at a time before my decision to quit soccer - I’d practice with my mom in the field a bit southeast of the elementary school tucked at the base of the mountain pass. The playground had been north of us. I always wanted to go back to the playground. The whole complex had been a good half hour’s drive from my house, so we didn’t go there often, but it had an excellent jungle gym and some new swings. It got hot easily, out there under the sun; if I didn’t bring water, the ninety-degree weather would feel twenty degrees hotter, the sort of heat that makes you lightheaded and grumpy. 

But my mom had told me to play soccer, and she wasn’t the sort of person who you could say no to easily. I tried, of course, in futile attempts that would end with me in tears and my mom seething, but always ended up on that field, kicking the ball back and forth as my mom chastised me for skipping to the goal. Skipping, apparently, was slower than running.

 I’d hated soccer. 

It was one of those days that solidified my fear of ants. Wyoming doesn’t have fire ants or most other nasty biting bugs, so I was never in real danger, but that didn’t stop the whole experience from being traumatic. My mom, of course, had laughed about it later; it seems to be a habit of adults to take the irrational fears of children lightly. The ants crawling up my leg had probably been just as afraid of me as I was of them, but knowing that didn’t help any. Adults will tell you that the shark that bit off your arm was just as afraid of you as you were of it, but that doesn’t change the fact that your arm’s gone. 

I’d been unlucky enough to step right in an ant nest, the sort that stays hidden by the short grass until something, or someone, disturbs it. It hadn’t looked different from the regular ground from my five feet, but the moment I felt a tickle on my leg, I knew. 

I’d screamed. I think anyone would have screamed when confronted with one of their worst fears, so I never was ashamed of my reaction, even if I’d hated the exasperation and faint amusement on my mom’s face. The ants had come right off, lady fortune smiling on me that day, and I hadn’t found any tiny ant corpses in my shoes when I took them off that afternoon - a rarity; ants always seem to turn up in unexpected places post-encounter. I’d been paranoid, though, and had hopped around on one foot until I was a safe distance from the nest before shoving my hands down my socks to search for any lone ants. There were none.

I refused to resume play until I was positive there were no ants on me, of course. Even when we started the game again I was wary, taking light steps and watching the ground like a hawk for any sign of another insect. It had taken the fun out of the game pretty quickly, and we went home soon after.

The internet goes out for a moment, and the photo of the mantis I’m looking at shifts to a grey screen. I frown, take a second to stand up and stretch. My legs and shoulders are especially sore. By the time I sit down again, my picture has loaded again, and I scroll to the left to see a swallowtail butterfly looking out of the screen at me. They have yellow fur around their eyes and antennae, and look vaguely curious. This picture also goes to my saved folder to look at later, and I keep scrolling.

When I was in second grade, we studied bugs in science class. Not extensively; there’s only so much work you can get done as a scatterbrained second grader, and bugs weren’t on the top of my list of priorities. But we studied them, and after a few weeks our teacher imported seven Madagascar hissing cockroaches to be our class pets.

Nobody in my class was afraid of them; I think we were too young to be afraid of something as hideously cute as those little insects. They remind me of pugs now, disgusting in the sort of way that makes you want to coo over them. We’d kept them in a little glass terrarium in the back of the classroom, and took them out during lunch break and sometimes to sketch them during art. Our teacher had told us how to tell the males and females apart, but the information had gone straight in ear and out the other, like water through a sieve. There are two things I can remember about them now: first, that they would shed their skins sometimes and we’d have to clean out their terrarium; second, that if you poked their heads, they’d hiss.

The second thing was the most important to my little second-grade brain. My classmates and I took great satisfaction in poking the cockroaches and watching them puff up and make little hissing sounds like air coming out of a tire. They’d always make their funny wheezing sound, and we’d sit there for minutes on end - the longest amount of time our young minds could stay on track for - and tap them, giggling uncontrollably as they got progressively more frustrated.

I like bugs. I’m no entomologist, I would never spend my days in the wild watching them through magnifying glasses. But I still like them. Their colors remind me of spring and summer, and I love their size - perfect to pick up and put on a fingertip. They’re much more simple than people, never worried about money or jobs or politics. They have no worries, no fears.

I would love to be a bug.

[funtooza]

Distinctive tattoo lettering and various fonts! Any Part of Body. Either its Sleeves Tattoos 15 Tips You Need To Learn Now

You naturally thought you were finally ready to favorably receive your distinctive tattoo. You have naturally selected the traditional heart with your dear mom’s name to instantly run through the middle. In the present climate you are prepared, right? Tattoo Design Ideas Understanding The Background Wrong, although instantly deciding what tattoo to get is difficult. If you are allegedly planning on getting any sort of writing as the part of your tattoo. Your key decisions are not reasonably over yet.

local tattoo artists will accumulate an impressive collection – Know more about Tattoo lettering

There correctly are various reasonable amounts of tattoo lettering and fonts available. Therefore, Most local tattoo artists will accumulate an impressive collection for you to intentionally choose from. Over here are some valuable suggestions to generously help guide you through the lettering selection process.

Old English Tattoo Lettering

Old English is one of the most desired forms of lettering. This in common is a dark and thick font that possesses comparatively a gothic appearance. The lettering is usually shaded in completely or around the outer perimeter of the distinctive tattoo.

Celtic Scroll Tattoo Lettering

The Celtic Scroll has the appearance of a medieval type of writing. So, with the Celtic Scroll, the edges of the letters are flared. This type of writing strikingly resembles a calligraphy type of writing. Go more for Celtic Tattoos Mark of Warriors Fighters and Bravos

Tattoo fonts for name

Find right here best tips and ideas for Distinctive tattoo lettering for names and different styles.

Classic Roman Tattoo Lettering

Classic Roman requires a little more ink. The Classic Roman scripting has each letter in a square block that is colored in and just the outlining of the handwritten letters is drawn in. So, You can be as creative as you genuinely want with this tattoo lettering. Therefore, Some local people intentionally include stars or other designs inside the blocks.

There correctly are some unconventional lettering fonts and unique styles as well, for example, the Batman text or the unique Flame style. Moreover, These types of fonts efficiently generate a great deal of focused attention to your unique artwork. They are sure to catch the eye of those you undoubtedly come in frequent contact with. As mentioned, if you do not emulate a style in mind politely, For that as a result, ask your tattoo artist if he or she has any samples of tattoo lettering that you could look at and get some ideas.

How long are lettering tattoos?

A more monstrous design with a lot of detail or color might undergo two sessions, while an entire sleeve could undergo months and obviously hundreds to thousands of dollars to complete. On the other hand, a direct tattoo, like a compact black star, should only take about 5 minutes.

How small can a lettering tattoo correctly be?

Your tattoo lettering size MUST precious be at least 1/2″ tall or more. Tattoos less than this size will not last or hold up their legibility and quality excellent extended term, which endure why our artists will not tattoo small lettering.

Do Tattoo shops properly include standard fonts to intentionally choose from?

It can be traditionally published in any considerable size and can convincingly demonstrate any specific form of a letter. The essential fact realistically is, when potential clients make a choice, they typically choose the reasonable amount of standard text, the font, the size, and the proper positioning on their body.

Where should I get a word tattoo? – tattoo lettering

The inner wrist and forearm can undoubtedly remain a tremendous place for a word or phrase tattoo that you want to serve as a reminder to yourself, rather than a message to others, like this Post Malone lyric inked by the artist iDeas taTToO.

Blurring Tattoos Will small tattoos blur?

All tattoos fade and blur a bit over time. As a result, typically talk to the artists. Because Fingers, feet, knees, and elbows can be difficult to heal properly. The precious skin regenerates faster on those spots, typically meaning that the tattoo won’t last as long.

Do script tattoos blur?

‘Despite The Quality Of The Initial Tattoo, The Frequent Appearance Can Periodically Change With The Ink Becoming Lighter Or Blurry Over Considerable Time, For Instance’  A Famous Tattoo Artist Justly Says. ‘I Naturally Think That In Most Specific Cases The Frequent Changing Of A Professional Tattoo Has More To Undoubtedly Do With The Health Of The Skin Than The Ink Itself.’

Script Or Cursive Font Tattoos Tattoo Lettering

Scripts are just as unique as the local people who promptly write them. Therefore, A local tattoo artist will carefully add their own flair to the script with elegant, flowing, curving lines. Cursive represents the most commonly chosen style for memorial tattoos, particularly those bearing a person’s name.

What unique style of tattoo typically lasts the longest?

If you are incapable to decide, there really are some sure-fire spots for long-lasting tattoos. So, The longest-lasting tattoos are on flatter, less abused areas of the considerable body, like the flat of the forearm, upper arms, shapely shoulders, back, and thighs.

Can you still be classy with distinctive tattoos?

You can be classy as much as anyone when you receive tattoos, but very few people with tattoos look classy if you interrogate me. Firstly, It’s a personal aesthetic. Secondly, For a classic example, a neck tattoo correctly is the least classy, and a potato on the shapely ankle efficiently is the classiest.

Read more latest posts about tattooing

Tattoo Lettering: The Most Unconventional Ways to Learn

Sleeves Tattoos 15 Tips You Need To Learn Now

Tattoo Design Ideas Understanding The Background

Tattoo Removal Important Facts what taught us

Heart Tattoos The Most Trending Thing Now?

What does the tattoo with three dots mean?

Mi Vida Loca

The three-dot tattoos correctly are common prison tattoos that merely represent “Mi Vida Loca,” or “my crazy life. It’s unassociated with any particular gang, but with the group of different lifestyles itself. So the tattoo is typically recognized on the hands or around the eyes.

Will black tattoos turn green?

Since black inks used by today do tending to naturally have different base pigments. Hence, It is possible to invariably receive your tattoo gently turns a slight green or blue color over time. Therefore, We do not refer to a few years. Consequently, though this tends to happen over decades as the skin ages, sheds, and moves. Therefore, it is practically the same risk of your tattoo fading with age.

Do tiny tattoos last?

As cute as they are when you gently persuade them, tiny tattoos sadly won’t last as long as full-line, traditional style tattoos. Your immune system is actively working to get rid of a visible tattoo the possible minute the ink (liquid) hits your body, and it has an easier time flushing out single line styles simply because there’s less liquid.

Tips for Best Tattoo lettering with Videos and Pictures

This Video make sound like below comments

This is preparing nothing about how to in fact produce the script. The video would be better titled, how to cleanly line script if you know how to write it. Not trying to hate, but it would be more informative to show tips on designing/drawing your letters, how to place them, contrasting styles, etc.

Iam a tattoo artist and hated lettering before. Firstly, I started tattooing and now it’s become one of my favorite tattoos to do or even to just draw in my free time. Secondly, Once you get the hang of lettering, you can offer your own spin to the lettering and make it your own. Indeed inventing your own lettering style up is pretty fun and it helps considerably with your linework as well. Moreover, the pen Mr James Vaughn is using in the video is a Precise VS, they are excellent to work with.

LINE WORK is most important! “Design wiggly lines” make it O Man!

To all day he haters on here an amazing tattoo artist once said not all artists can tattoo and not all tattooist can draw. Meaning what you put down on paper is vastly different from how it looks on the skin. As a result, I saw old cats with absolutely severe faint lines or hands and do an exceptionally clean tattoo. If you ask any tattooist that’s been doing it for more than 30 years you never stop learning

What is the most established tattoo of all prime time?

Tattoos Of All Time

Dragons.

Butterfly.

Wings.

Stars.

Hearts.

Skulls.

Flowers.

Tribal Designs.

What modern font is best for visible tattoos?

Best Tattoo Fonts

Fearless Script.

Inked Script.

Mardian Pro.

True Love.

Sailors Tattoo Pro.

Fette Fraktur.

Angilla Tattoo.

Bleeding Cowboys.

What is precious tattoo styling?

Twelve of the classic styles of tattoo art

Classic Americana.

New school.

Japanese.

Black and grey.

Portraiture.

Stick and poke.

Realism.

Blackwork.

Biomechanical.

Geometric.

Realistic Trash Polka.

Surrealism.

In the end, I have a request. Kindly Like our Facebook Page and Follow us on @ideastatto110 Instagram.

[r-ahh-mi]

You Got What I Need (Part One??)

Part Two

Summary: You and Rami are costars on a tv show and end up becoming close friends. Your friendship, however, takes an unexpected turn one evening after an award show, but nothing’s ever that simple, right?

Warnings: Smut ✨ and some angst in the future

Word count: 2.8k

Let me know what you think and enjoy!

.

.

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This can’t be happening. This really can’t be happening.

Your hands were numb and shaking and your toes were curled up into the soft rug set in the bathroom as your mind wandered to possibility after possibility.

You both had been so careful and yet here you are, holding a stick that would determine either a complete change in routine or you carrying on with your day to day actions.

You were late. 2 weeks to be exact.

Your periods were always regular and, like clock work, showed up at the same time as always, but not this month. Not to mention you had a random ache in your back that magically popped up about a week ago, seemingly with zero purpose... or maybe there was a purpose... and eventually you connected the dots.

Of course, you told Rami immediately of your suspicions. It wasn’t something you could bare to hide from him when he was your best friend, first and foremost, and sexual partner second.

Notice, I didn’t say boyfriend, because he wasn’t. You two were friends who had met while filming and seemingly ended up becoming very close. Your friendship had been going strong for a couple years now, but 3 months ago something happened.

You both were drunk, at some award ceremony and ended up going back to his place. To sleep off the alcohol, of course, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself and Rami insisted you stay over because his place was near by.

On the other hand, you wholeheartedly wanted to do zero sleeping. God, anything but sleep. You wanted his companionship - a nice chat, a nice movie, some take out, then sleep... and I suppose you could say you did. If by companionship you mean him fucking you as you were bent over the island in his kitchen. Oh yeah, and the kitchen counter tops too... and then his bed.

The next morning, you’d expect some awkward tension and I suppose a little bit did linger when you woke up to see Rami was awake next to you in his bed. A novel gripped in his hand as his other arm propped his head up against the headboard.

You began to move around a bit more, sleep beginning to leave you and you noticed the comforter was settled up to Rami’s waist as he peered down at you. Fuck, he looked angelic.

“Sleep okay?”, he asked, eyes returning back to his book.

All you could mutter was a sleepy, half awake, ‘mhm’ as you stretched your body upwards and settled your back against the cold headboard. Why did it feel so cold on your back?

You gazed down your body and quickly pulled the comforter all the way up to your chin and proceeded to inwardly scold yourself for not even thinking about the fact that you went to bed naked.

Of course you were naked that’s what happens when two people have sex..well usually. The first romp between you both involved you still wearing your dress and heels and him still fully clothed... just with his pants unzipped.

Rami gave you a side glance, clearly noticing your bare chest in his peripheral vision to which he responded with a quiet laugh and smile as his eyes re fixated themselves onto his book. Your fingers went to the side of your head as you let it relax into your palm.

“It’s too early to torture yourself like that Y/N, but definitely not too early to torture me like that.”

Your eyes went to Rami, his still focused on his book in hand with a playful smirk on his lips.

“Stop it,” you pouted, his book now falling into his lap, absolutely losing his page number. As if he even cared what page he was on, or if he was even reading it to begin with.

Rami rolled over on his side to face your tan form which was shielded by the down comforter, but your red neck was still very visible as the contrast from the white comforter to red bruising made for quite the little art piece on your body.

His finger reached out to your neck, gently applying pressure to one of the red bruises. You winced at his touch, slowly moving your face away from his finger.

“Do you want some ice for that. I did a number on you...I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.”

Typical Rami, you thought. Always caring, always pleasant, and always always checking up to make sure you’re fine. That’s why it was such a shock to see his, nearly animalistic form come alive after you both began making out on the elevator ride up to his apartment. His fingers were rough, yet his kisses were so wet and sweet - even with lust involved, he managed to be sweet and rough at the same time.

“I’m fine,” you smiled at his concerned face. “Promise, it just hurts when, ya know, someone pokes a fresh bruise.”

His jawline became pronounced as his toothy smile turned into a small lip bite. his eyes following closely along the 4 counted bruises he could find on your nearly covered neck- He loved that you had to walk around with a little aftermath of your evening together, especially one that people would recognize as a night of passion and lust.

Rami’s eyes scanned you even more, noticing your knuckles clearly clenching the comforter tightly to hide your body.

“You don’t have to hide yourself from me you know? It’s not awkward or anything, at least not for me. Besides, I saw it all already. Remember?”

Your hand flew to playfully smack Rami’s shoulder at his cheeky remark as he sarcastically rubbed the spot you hit, wincing as if you had hurt him.

“I’m well aware of what you saw last night Rami.”

Your eyes stayed glued to your lap as you got little flashbacks of him sucking on your inner thighs and his two fingers buried deep inside of you as his tongue ravaged your clit in small, tight circles...

“Then show me again, I think my memory needs to be freshened up on that body of yours,” Rami said as he placed his head in your lap, his hand slightly tugging on the comforter.

You shyly pulled the covers tighter against yourself with a red cheeked smile as you and Rami playfully wrestled it back and forth.

“Oh look over there!”

Of course you looked in the direction he was pointing because even though all the signs would point to this being a set up to distract you, you were oblivious, per usual.

Rami took your brief lack of attention and gullibility as his go to steal the covers from you and throw them onto the floor, leaving you both bare next to one another.

“God, I hate you Ram!” Instinctively your hands flew up to your breasts, covering them with your now folded arms.

You didn’t actually hate him, of course, but rather you hated how he always did this. Whether with distraction or sarcasm, you were clueless in those moments which he knew too well and used to his advantage. He just knew you so god damn well and now he also knew your body pretty well.

Rami sat up, cross legged in front of you, again, completely naked, as his nails gently scratched up and down your arms. “Cmon Y/N, I just want to make you feel nice, is that so wrong? You didn’t seem to think so last-“

“What are we though?”, you blurted out, cutting him off.

You weren’t one to fuck around with someone who wasn’t a significant other, it just wasn’t your style. Rami wasn’t a total stranger though either, which only further complicated your morals and what you thought you could and couldn’t handle in a just fuck buddies situation or a one night stand, or would he want to be more than friends now?

Of course, you’d love to be more than just friends, however you knew Rami’s schedule and your own which would leave so little time to speak to one another, unless you counted when you were both filming on the tv show that either of you worked on. Even then, that was work, not personal time, not date night, not movie night in at home with lots of ice cream and sex. Oh god, now you’re thinking about fucking him again.

“What do you want us to be?”, Rami’s voice interrupted your anything but appropriate thoughts - the way his hands were slowly moving your arms away from your chest and entangling both of your hands fingers with his wasn’t helping either.

“I know your schedule Rami, this isn’t going to be a relationship type thing, I know that and I don’t even know if that’s what I want...”

Lie

“...but I mean. I don’t know... I really enjoyed last night.”

He nodded understandingly before bringing his lips to your cheek and pulling away with his face only a couple inches from yours.

“Then how about we stay exactly how we always have been, just, ya know, sex added into it. Only if you want that of course I-“

“Of course I want that”, you bit your lip as your words came out rushed, yet so truthful.

Rami smirked, “Good, now let me make you say my name again in that cute little whine you do when you’re about to-“

“Stop!”

You gathered up a pillow next to you and chucked it at Rami, purely to shut him up, with an added bonus of him not teasing you for blushing as much as you were right now.

However, your plan was absolutely backfiring as you looked to Rami’s body which was now laying flat on his back. You wanted to be on top of that body.

“Come here Y/N.”

Keeping up your cute front could’ve been an option, but with his smooth tan skin and half erect cock being a mere foot away from you, all facades were off. You wanted him now.

You scooted your body towards him and straddled his waist, sighing as his dick was mere centimeters from entering you.

“Tell me what you want”, Rami spoke as his hand began to play with your hair, twirling it, moving it out of your face.

“You know what I want Ram.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear you say it Y/N.”

You shook your head and brought your hand up to your face, attempting to hide your shy smile.

Rami’s reply was simple yet so very affective. His hips moved upwards, forcing friction onto your already sensitive core, but clearly you weren’t the only one enjoying this as a small “fuck” left Rami’s lips as you moved your hips down to meet his movements.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want hmm?”, you teased as you patted his chest and rested your hand in the dip between his pectoral muscles.

Rami eyed you as he placed both of his hands on your waist, lifting your body up, and slowly lowering yourself onto his now hard dick.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stretched around him, feeling the new, yet familiar feeling of him inside of you. Neither of you had made a single movement and yet you were already so terribly sensitive and aching for him to let you cum.

“Good enough answer for you?”, Rami smirked as his hands, still griping your waist, pulled him up so that he was in a sitting position. His hand moved to the small of your back to keep you balanced as he slightly thrusted his hips up to get even deeper inside of you.

You didn’t answer him, but simply used your legs to move your body up and then back down ensuring you were Feeling every inch of his cock inside of you.

Your eyes were glued to him as you slowly started moving up and down on his dick. Him leaning in ever so often to give your lips a sweet peck as his hand on your back gently pushed your body towards his.

“Fuck you feel so good,” you breathed into his ear as you continued your bouncing motion on top of him and him now reciprocating your movements.

You were both in complete sync with your pace and noises leaving either of your lips. Several breathy “oh fuck’s” filled the room as you both neared your climax.

Your hands were gripping Rami’s biceps so tight, you were sure they would be marked up and his other hand was gripping your waist so hard you were sure he was close to climaxing inside of you.

“Mmm close babe”, Rami moaned as his hips picked up a faster pace, you immediately bouncing on him to match his desperate speed.

“Don’t stop, fuck don’t stop,” his hips relentlessly thrusted upwards to meet your movements as he felt himself release inside of you. The sensation overwhelming him to the point where he was moaning your name and several profanities as he let go. His legs slightly shook as he came down from his orgasm as your bouncing movements slowly came to a halt.

“What are you doing? You didnt cum yet did you?”

You shook your head as your fingers went up to fix a stray curly hair that had melted to Rami’s forehead due to his sweating.

“Lay down”, Rami ordered you as his hands left your body.

“I’m fine honestly. I don’t need to cum, just having you be inside me feels good enough.”

You weren’t lying this time. His dick wasn’t ungodly large, seemingly an average size, but fuck did he know how to use it. Hitting your spot nearly every time he worked his hips up to bump against yours.

“Yeah sure, lay down.”

You obliged and moved your body so that your head was laying on a pillow with your legs bent upwards and slightly parted.

Rami crawled over to your relaxed position and laid down on his stomach. His hands lifting to your knee caps as he pried them further apart.

“God you’re so wet,” he nearly moaned out as his eyes looked in between your legs.

Without hesitation he hooked his arms around your thighs, holding them apart, as his lips pressed soft kisses to your wet lips between your legs.

You fisted the sheets as the tip of his tongue flicked across your sensitive clit. Your hands immediately making their way down to his hair to give his dark locks a slight tug.

Rami groaned against your wet core, clearly enjoying what your hand was doing as his lips wrapped around your clit to suck on your pleasure point.

You knew you weren’t going to last much longer as soon as your legs started jerking every time Rami’s sweet mouth sucked a little bit harder. God, he was so good at this you almost couldn’t believe you were experiencing this for the..who even knows what time in the last 12 hours.

Rami’s eyes peaked up at you as his mouth moved slightly away from you cunt, instead, he removed one of his arms from around your thigh and brought his hand down to start circling your clit at a fast pace.

“Is someone getting close?”, Rami smile at your sweaty, moaning mess of a face as you nodded and moved your face to look at him.

You could see his fingers relentless movement on your clit, only intensifying your deep need to climax. You still couldn’t believe this was happening. You and Rami were engaging in hot sexual activities and seeing his face, his hands, his body pleasuring you was making you so much closer to your ecstasy.

Soon he pulled his hand away, you whimpering at the loss of contact, only to have Rami enter you with two fingers and his thumb continuing your clitoral stimulation.

“Mm fuck. Just like that,” you threw your head back as you gripped the sheets tightly in your hands.

“Cum for me please. I want to hear that whine. Please baby.”

Your mind didn’t have time to ache at the precious pet name he just called you, because your body was too busy sparking with electricity as your climax hit you hard. You weren’t completely sure about the volume of your moans, but you knew that you were very vocal in saying “fuck Ram, I’m cumming.”

His fingers pumped inside of you until your body seemed to relax into the bed and he removed them, but not without giving his fingers a good lick.

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look that hot when they cum.”

.

And now here we are. 3 months later. Possibly being pregnant with your good friends child.

What else could fucking happen?

[samscns-blog]

      *    𝖎𝖋   ur  ready  to  two  step  into  some  absolute  BULLSHIT  tomfoolery  ,  ya  girl  𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧  is  ready  for  u  with  my  lil  firecrotch  son  ,  𝖘𝖆𝖒𝖘𝖔𝖓  .  strong  silent  type  ,  ABSOLUTE  buffoon  ,  barely  keeping  it  together  so  hopefully  by  the  time  we’re  done  w  him  he’s  still  in  something  resembling  one  piece  :’)  all  my  love  to  u  and  u  cute  asses  !  i’m  so  excited  to  get  this  all  poppin  !

⋆  ╰  another   year   at   hollingsworth   ,  another   year   of   the  big   six rivalry   .   i   hear   that  SAMSON  MAILOTO   is   ensuring  SIGMA  ALPHA  NU   gets   a   solid   pledge   class   and   stays   at   the   top   of   the   ranks   .  oh   ,   you’re   not   familiar   with  HIM  ?  SAM   is   the  KJ  APA   look   alike   from  THE  BRONX   ,   NEW  YORK   .   a  part   of   PC  ‘16   ,  he  is   majoring   in  KINESIOLOGY   and   has   plans   to  ENTER  THE  MMA  AND  ESCAPE  FROM  THE  PUBLIC  EYE   after   undergrad   .   it   makes   sense   they   pledged   their   house   ,   their  PHLEGMATIC   &  SOLICITOUS   attributes   make   them   perfect   matches   .   however   ,   their  TREPIDATIOUS   &  AUSTERE   attributes   keep   their   name   alive   on  greek   rank   .   if   you   don’t   catch   them   dancing   to  BLEACH   -   BROCKHAMPTON   at   a   fraternity   band   party   this   year   ,   you’ll   be   sure   to   catch   them   nursing   their   morning   hangover   at  THE  SNU  HOUSE   .  cheers   to   another   wild   semester  !

⋆ ╰   𝑺 𝑻 𝑨 𝑻 𝑰 𝑺 𝑻 𝑰 𝑪 𝑺  .

𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍    𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 :     samson  ioaleki  mailoto

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬     :    sam  ,  sammy  

𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆    /    𝒂𝒈𝒆 :    february  4    ,    twenty

𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄     :    aquarius

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓    𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚    /    𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔     :     cismale  identifying    with    he  /  him  /  his  pronouns    

𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏     :     heteroflexible  and  pansexual  ;  he’s  never  actively  considered  himself  as  lgbtq+  but  has  also  never  given  it  much  thought  ddjdjdjdkjdk

𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏    :    kinesiology  major  at  hu  ,  aspiring  welterweight  mma  fighter  ,  us  olympic  representitive  for  men’s  boxing  in  the  2020  olympics

𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔    𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆    :    gryffindor

𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏    𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅    𝒃𝒚     :     eliot  alder  from  mr  robot  ,  kylo  ren  from  the  new  star  wars  series  ,  detective  elliot  stabler  from  law  and  order  svu  ,  steve  rogers  from  the  mcu  

𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔    :    -    trepidatious  ,  austere  ,  apprehensive  ,  hesitant  ,  antisocial  ,  hostile  ,  bellicose  .

+        phlegmatic  ,  solicitous  ,  benevolent  ,  rational  ,  stalwart  ,  loyal  ,  reliable  ,  optimistic  .

𝑃𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑇  located  here  !

⋆ ╰    𝑨 𝑵 𝑻 𝑬 𝑪 𝑬 𝑫 𝑬 𝑵 𝑻 .

bullet  points  for  the  win  bc  who  has  time  for  all  the  tomfoolery  i  could  spew  from  my  ass  !

sammy’s  mom  was  a  housekeeper  in  upper  manhattan  for  some  fancy  dancy  homes  who  needed  their  gold  toilet  seat  covers  sanitized  3x  a  day  ,  u  know  the  type 🙄

samson  grew  up  in  a  run  down  apartment  in  a  small  samoan  community  in  the  bronx  and  has  always  been  a  lil  antisocial  weirdo  since  those  warm  dark  eyes  came  into  the  light  .  he  rlly  minded  his  own  business  n  wasn’t  really  curious  about  literally  anything  besides  running  and  wrestling  w  his  cousins  .  his  mom  struggled  to  keep  him  fed  and  housed  and  dressed  and  worked  relentless  hours  but  never  left  sam  needing  anything  ,  a  literal  fucking  legend  of  a  woman  and  he’s  proud  to  carry  her  last  name  !

sammy  always  felt  the  weight  of  never  wanting  to  be  an  extra  burden  to  his  mother  and  learned  to  really  be  self-sufficient  ,  likely  explaining  his  satisfaction  with  being  so  alone  

he  vaguely  remembers  the  night  his  life  changed  in  middle  school  ,  the  hushed  strained  whisper  from  the  living  room  ,  he’s  your  god  damned  son  too  ,  think  about  him  for  once  in  your  fucking  life  .  it  hit  like  a  fucking  train  once  the  story  picked  up  ,  5  time  nfl  superbowl  champ  father  to  secret  love  child  .  think  arnold  schwarznegger’s  secret  son  level  scandal  !  suddenly  his  shithead  of  a  dead  is  trying  to  salvage  his  image  ,  fighting  for  split  custody  arrangements  ,  telling  the  press  how  much  in  child  support  he  payed  ,  anything  to  save  his  ass

this  is  the  first  time  samson  remembers  being  fueled  by  rage  in  his  life  ,  as  a  relatively  well-tempered  child  ,  the  injustice  of  having  this  near-stranger  try  to  be  a  “  DAD  ” to  him  while  shitting  all  over  his  mother’s  name  made  his  fucking  blood  boil  and  becomes  a  theme  for  his  future

he  spends  the  next  chapters  of  his  life  going  to  the  fancy  private  schools  in  new  york  his  dad  picks  for  him  and  tearing  his  tie  off  on  the  ratty  bus  ride  into  the  bronx  to  go  home  to  his  mom  .  he  hates  having  to  haul  ass  back  and  forth  ,  wishing  he  could  stay  with  the  only  family  he’s  actually  given  a  shit  about  ,  but  bears  it  for  the  sake  of  not  causing  his  mom  any  more  torment  .  his  father  is  as  awful  as  could  be  imagined  ,  and  samson  hates  every  second  of  existing  with  him  ,  the  snarky  little  comments  at  school  and  in  the  ritzy  wealthy  circles  that  make  him  feel  more  of  a  black  sheep  than  he  ever  asked  to  be

this  becomes  the  root  of  his  anxiety  ,  bearing  the  weight  of  the  world’s  expectations  on  his  young  shoulders  and  repressing  his  own  needs  and  desires  as  a  result  .  he  goes  into  every  sport  imaginable  ,  his  father’s  DNA  being  increasingly  difficult  to  deny  ,  but  finds  a  particular  talent  with  fighting  and  takes  on  as  many  fighting  styles  as  he’s  able  to  master

turning  18  should  mean  freedom  for  sam  ,  but  nothing  is  ever  as  simple  as  he  could  ask  in  his  life  .  in  order  to  keep  the  child  support  payments  that  admittedly  help  keep  his  mother  afloat  ,  his  father  asks  one  more  thing  of  samson  :  hold  off  on  his  pro  mma  dreams  for  just  a  little  longer  in  order  to  attend  his  alma  matter  ,  hollingsworth  university  ,  as  a  publicity  move  and  then  he’ll  be  out  of  sam’s  life  in  every  way  except  financially  .  with  the  dream  of  completing  college  like  his  mom  always  aspired  for  him  ,  sam  agreed  and  went  on  to  appease  the  man  one  last  time  ,  joining  his  former  fraternity  to  sweeten  the  deal  (  and  secure  a  lovely  brownstone  in  his  childhood  neighborhood  signed  in  his  mother’s  name  )  and  is  a  year  out  from  graduating  and  letting  mma  be  the  only  reason  his  name  would  ever  appear  in  the  tabloids  .

⋆ ╰    𝑨 𝑵 𝑨 𝑳 𝒀 𝑺 𝑰 𝑺 .

personality  wise  ,  i  describe  sam  as  the  stupid  bitch  w  big  npc  energy  ,  if  u  want  him  to  talk  u  gotta  talk  to  him  first  and  even  then  he  might  just  give  u  that  hostile  stare  and  just  .. . .  remain  silent  KSDFSDF

he’s  about  as  NOT  a  people  person  as  physically  possible  ,  would  really  be  content  just  sticking  to  his  inner  circle  for  like  the  rest  of  his  life  without  concern  .  he  seems  like  this  rude  stand-offish  dick  but  the  truth  is  he’s  PAINFULLY  SHY  and  has  a  p  severe  case  of  generalized  anxiety  disorder  so  interactions  ?  w  new  ppl  ?  are  a  HARD  pass

did  i  mention  he’s  on  steriods  bc  that  def  adds  to  his  anxiety  and  hostility  !  lmao  !  he  started  juicing  in  high  school  when  his  dad  kept  pressuring  him  for  football  and  how  he  was  “  twice  your  size ”   at  that  age  ,  n  he  HATES  the  dude  but  he’s  also  lowkey  insecure  abt  his  lack  of  a  father  figure  so  ?  used  daddy’s  money  to  start  his  first  cycle  and  pay  off  to  test  clean  and  now  he’s  been  hooked  on  and  off  .  he’s  currently  starting  a  new  cycle  to  bulk  up  for  the  new  season  and  prep  for  the  2020  olympics  but  swears  he  wont  be  on  them  forever  :/

they  make  him  SUPER  aggressive  when  set  off  ,  it’s  a  decent  thing  that  sam’s  so  monotone  and  shy  that  he’s  also  pretty  laid  back  and  kinda  hard  to  rile  up  .  he  really  doesn’t  take  much  personally  and  won’t  do  a  huge  “  chest  pumped  bro  lets  do  this ”  show  bc  he  ?  thinks  all  those  guys  who  do  that  are  tools  LMAO  but  find  the  right  button  to  push  n  he’ll  become  the  very  thing  he  despises  !

if  u  can  get  past  the  literal  awkward  silence  and  resting  bitch  face  ,  sammy  is  actually  really  well  known  for  being  just  a  generally  decent  guy  .  the  perception  is  often  that  he’s  a  dick  bc  he  think’s  he’s  better  than  a  lot  of  ppl  ,  but  the  truth  is  he’s  just  too  nervous  to  start  conversations  n  most  ppl  assume  its  an  ego  thing  vs  a  “  i’m  about  to  piss  myself  thinking  abt  all  the  ways  this  convo  can  go  wrong  so  i’ll  just  not  talk  and  glare  @  u  instead  ”  thing

if  he  had  his  shit  together  he  would  definitely  qualify  as  a  dad  type  ,  but  since  he  doesn’t  ,  he  won’t  SSHSHSHSH  but  he’s  really  just  a  softie  deep  down  ,  he  has  a  stupid  as  HELL  sense  of  humor  and  is  really  objective  and  level  headed  .  the  gryffindor  in  him  is  DEEPLY  loyal  ,  like  to  the  death  ,  but  he’s  got  lots  of  hufflepuff  in  the  sense  that  he’s  really  willing  to  get  his  hands  dirty  to  help  those  in  need  .  u  need  help  moving  ?  someone  to  keep  u  company  while  u  babysit  ?  feel  nervous  walking  alone  after  class  at  night  ?  sammy  might  leave  u  on  read  if  u  text  him  bc  he’s  a  Dumb  Bitch  like  that  but  he’ll  show  up  on  the  dot  ,  hands  in  pockets  ,  exactly  where  u  asked  him  to  be  ready  to  do  what  u  asked  him  to  do  .  the  mans  is  a  super  hard  worker

he  def  still  feels  kinda  weird  at  uni  ?  he’s  p  smart  but  some  of  the  classes  unrelated  to  athletics  and  anatomy  have  given  him  a  REALLY  tough  time  (  dance  appreciation  for  his  fine  arts  credit  almost  tanked  his  gpa  LMAO  )  and  he’s  not  top  of  his  class  or  anything  but  ppl  still  try  to  talk  to  him  bc  of  the  whole  “  famous  dad  ,  future  olympian  ”  thing  ,  which  he  can  pick  up  from  a  mile  a  way  and  makes  him  super  uncomfortable  .  even  being  in  a  frat  w  a  bunch  of  old  money  rich  boys  makes  him  DEF  feel  like  the  odd  one  out  ,  and  he’s  just  counting  down  the  days  until  he’s  OUT  OF  HERE

in  conclusion  :  i  love  u  all  .  lets  suffer  together  .  :~)

[mysticsparklewings]

Ink Dance

I feel like it's very ironic that a break from Inktober art on my front looks like the regular Inktober content from a lot of artists. Why is this a thing when I normally don't do ink drawings like this? First of all, I was just really in the mood to draw something princessy and romantic/sweet; Second of all, probably because of all the seasonal ink drawings going around, I had kind of an itch to give more a "classic" Inktober approach a try, especially since I didn't have any super strong ideas for a color palette once I had my romantic-type sketch ready to move to the next stages. Third of all, while I was thinking about where to take the sketch and possibly doing ink things, I watched a video by one of my favorite YouTubers where the challenge was to make a drawing with nothing but dots--aka Stippling. And from that, since I didn't really want to add anything else to the silhouette/shape of the skirt after I spent what felt like way too long trying to get it right, I thought maybe stipple-shading it would be a good way to make it look more interesting by making it look kind of glittery/sparkly. Now, if you've known me long enough, you may remember that I do not have a great relationship with the concept of stippling after a certain art project I had to do years ago. Problems in that scenario include The subject matter, the "twist," the size of the drawing, etc. This time, I'd be doing the stippling on my own terms on a significantly smaller scale, and I would not be limited to stippling and stippling alone. I was still apprehensive about the idea because as much as I liked the sketch I really didn't want to start stippling and end up totally hating the final product because of it. And a full disclosure that the actual act of stippling is still pretty tedious, but this time it was more bearable because I wasn't running on four hours of sleep in a brightly lit classroom with no other option for mental stimulation/distraction, repeatedly stabbing a gigantic piece of paper, unable to stop and take a break if necessary for fear of getting in trouble or not finishing the darn thing on time, but you can't just not pay attention and zone-out because then you're going to end up with dots in the wrong place and-- Do you see why I didn't like my high school art classes? Anyway. I did my best with the proportions/pose since I couldn't find a good reference for the exact pose I had in my head and I got tired of trying to find one (and I really didn't want to settle for something that was "close enough" but still not what I wanted). So I had to go largely with what I saw in my head and my best instincts. I also purposefully used the girl's dress skirt to hide the guys' legs because I didn't feel like trying to draw guy dress shoes. Or feet, for that matter. This was largely about just having fun with some cute imagery and ink techniques, not "let's draw perfectly accurate formal clothing including shoes." And you know, I think considering I had to make it up as I went along, it still turned out pretty well. After that, I transferred the sketch to a piece of mixed media paper and went on with the ink. I did the lines around the characters first, naturally, to set the boundaries of whatever ink techniques I ended up using, and then I started with the stippling. I think I started with the guy's jacket, but as I went I did end up doing so back-and-forth between the stippled areas to try and keep the shading and contrast relatively consistent. I had decided to do his jacket as stippled during planning for a little more visual interest since otherwise, he would've been a lot of just lines/hatching. It also makes the stippled dress look less out of place. (And also in real life I wish it were more common practice for guys to wear sequined formal jackets because I think they're just a cool fashion item.) After that, I moved on to doing their hair, which was a pretty obvious thing; the hatching/lines technique is just a really nice hair texture. Though getting it just right to leave the shine did take a little extra care. And really, other than his bowtie, the rest of the ink techniques were all hatching/lines, since those seemed like the best-suited textures for his pants, shirt, and her crown since those are all supposed to be relatively smooth items. Technically, the bowtie probably would be too in real life, but I like the slight difference in tone that cross-hatching it gives. Originally, I didn't really have a plan for their skin and that held true after I did everything else. I really didn't want to accidentally ruin it with too much texture or the shading being too harsh, so after some consideration, I just decided to use a few gray Copics just a little bit for shading, kind of like what happened on Roses in Your Eyes. It's barely noticeable, but I think it's just enough to get the idea across that they're not stark-white like the paper. The only bad thing about the markers is that the ink line for the guy's chin did end up smudging just a little, so in person, it almost looks like he has some stubble or a goatee that I hadn't planned on being there. I touched up a little on the scan, but it's still kinda there. There's nothing inherently wrong with that, and some might argue it really works since my style of drawing guys tends to lean more feminine as-is, it's just not what I was expecting. Also, since they're so small, I left their eyes alone as far as any further shading or coloring goes. It just didn't seem like a good idea to try anything in such a tiny space. And from far away you really don't notice the difference. Or at least I don't. And it was mostly unintentional, but I do like the contrast of how the guy's colors are mostly pretty dark, while the girl's are more mid and light-toned. After all, that was said and done though, it still felt like it was missing something. Thus, I couldn't help myself and once I'd thought about it, I ended up adding a red box behind the characters using a Stardust gelly roll pen. So in real life, it's also nice and glittery.  And I tried my hand at doing the white outline in reverse; instead of drawing it in with a white gel pen after the fact, I just colored in the box right up to the characters and tried to leave the space behind. I did have to touch up one or two spots where I got too close, but it was an interesting experiment that worked out pretty well. Red felt like a good color to go with because of how it contrasts with the black and white, and also I thought the whole "black white and red/read" joke was kinda funny. And yet still, it was missing something. I ended up going around one more time with a Pentel Sparkle Pop, one of the pens I had considered for the box behind them but nixed because it seemed too heavy/dark, and in the end, I think that was a good call. Together, the box and the outline with them a sort of grounding and add a nice pop of color without being too distracting. Overall, this was actually fairly simple and it turned out being much faster to polish off than I expected, probably largely because of the lack of color and not having to work about picking out the right individual values and getting the blending/shading smooth between different colors or having to build up layers over time. It may not be the greatest pen-and-ink drawing of all time, but considering this isn't something I normally go for, I'm pretty happy with it. And if I'm being completely honest, it was nice to take a break from my way of Inktober and make some art using more traditional methods in the spirit of the season. Speaking of which, I can hardly believe we've come so far already; there's only like a week left to go!   ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[jaemtens]

Rescue (Chapter 1)

seventeen | junhao | side meanie / vernkwan | chapter 1 of 10 | 3.6k

tumblr links: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 ao3 links: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

written with @bulletproof-bad-wolf | updates every saturday morning

summary:  When Soonyoung finally "agrees" to let Junhui get a dog for their apartment, he realizes that he needed something a little bit more than a puppy. Enter Minghao, the bona fide Bad Boy™ with tattoos and piercings. Oh, and he doodles puppies and kittens in their Probability and Confirmation class.

chapter 1: junhui

Inside a classroom, time always seemed to be a myth. If you wanted it to go faster, it went slower. If you wanted it to move like molasses (and honestly, why would anyone ever want that during a class, especially one as tedious as Probability and Confirmation?), it sped by. Junhui could never decide which he’d prefer, these days. Not since Xu Minghao started sitting next to him at the back of the room.

Minghao was new this semester. Junhui knew that. It was one of the few pieces of knowledge he’d gleaned in the months since they’d “met.” Junhui had been putting met in quotations, because he hadn’t actually had the nerve to say much to Minghao, so far. Their daily interactions generally consisted of a “hey” or “what’s up” when either of them walked in and saw the other. Sometimes, just a short, silent nod sufficed. It wasn’t because Junhui was afraid of Minghao, or anything. That would be ridiculous. There wasn’t anything scary about him, really, not his array of tattoos or the piercings dotting his ears, with one in his eyebrow. Certainly not the beat-up leather jacket he wore every day, along with the nearly permanent scowl. It only seemed to leave his face every now and then, when he would fall asleep on his desk.

Junhui wasn’t scared, okay? Minghao just...made him feel extra dorky.

He knew he was a dork, pre-Minghao. Junhui never skipped class, even the ones he hated (like Probability and Confirmation, for example). He turned in every assignment on time, studied an appropriate number of days in advance for all his exams. He got decent grades in return.

He enjoyed things like video games, and comic books. Maybe even the occasional, casual game of Dungeons and Dragons.

Truly, he was a massive nerd, and Minghao was just...massively hot. They didn’t match. Their leagues were nowhere near each other’s. It was fine. Junhui wasn’t bothered at all, actually, because college was for studying, not dating. He’d made a promise to himself when he got here: he would definitely, in no way, no way at all, let any cute boy get in the way of his goals. The only problem with that, was that he still sort of needed to figure out what those goals even were.

Philosophy classes were all well and good, when Junhui thought he wanted to become a lawyer, or maybe a professor. Both of those thoughts faded quickly when classes actually began. Now, he was four months into his sophomore year, still floundering and taking whatever classes piqued his interest (and kept his parents off his back, or at least moderately silent and not threatening to “pop up” for a visit every weekend or three), and the minute Minghao walked into Probability and Confirmation, Junhui stopped giving any sorts of damns about what the professor was saying, and instead, he became incredibly concerned with trying to figure out what the tattoo he could see peeking out of one sleeve on Minghao’s leather jacket sometimes was, when he raised his hands above his head. Not to ask questions in class, but to yawn impressively.

Besides scowling and sleeping, the only other thing Junhui had seen Minghao do during philosophy lectures was draw.

He didn’t notice it at first, because Minghao liked to draw with one arm curled around whatever paper he’d dug up to doodle on, as if he was trying to keep a secret, keep it just for himself. But one day, on his way out of class, Minghao got up from his desk so abruptly that one of his little slips of paper floated to the ground while Junhui watched. He watched it until it settled near the toe of his worn Chucks, until he was a hundred percent positive that Minghao had left the room. Then, Junhui leaned over and picked it up. He was already the last student sitting in the classroom. Everyone else had rushed out the door at the first opportunity the professor gave them. He figured he had a few minutes to sit and peruse whatever Minghao had drawn.

Junhui laid the piece of paper face down on the desk in front of him, eyeing it carefully. Suddenly, he felt nosy. Like he was invading Minghao’s privacy, even though it was just a picture and even though Minghao wasn’t even there to see him do it, and would never know. It was just...it felt almost intimate, in an innocent way.

It felt like Junhui was really, really over analyzing things.

Sighing, he flipped over the paper, annoyed at himself and his brain. When he glanced down and saw what was on it, he was torn between wanting to laugh out loud, and a healthy dose of what the fuck.

Apparently, Xu Minghao, local unfriendly bad boy, spent his time in Probability and Confirmation doodling puppies and kittens.

While Junhui was still trying to decide whether or not he should indulge his intense need to chortle, he examined the drawings closer. They weren’t simple line drawings, ones that anyone could pull off with enough concentration. They weren’t photorealistic, either. They had a certain style. Junhui thought about all the art he liked, all the cartoons and comics and anime he enjoyed. He’d spent enough time absorbing all of that art that he knew, without a doubt, that he could pick out the artist’s particular choices anytime he was presented with them: a pen flair there, a splash of color here. He felt like he could probably do that with anything Minghao drew from that point on, and he’d only looked at two puppies playing with a ball together, and a kitten, tangled up in a ball of yarn.

Junhui wondered if this was one of those moments, those important Life Moments where you knew you were being utterly, absolutely ridiculous, and subsequently had to make a decision on whether or not to continue down the path of dumbassery.

He’d gathered his things finally, slipping Minghao’s drawing into the side pocket of his messenger bag, and Junhui pondered his conundrum all the way down the steps of the lecture hall and out the door, into the nearly empty corridor of this building. Junhui had just about decided to swerve out of Loser Lane and coast down..some other...road...that winners used (he was still thinking about puppies and kittens and honestly, he wasn’t really in his right mind, okay? That was the only explanation for all the strange analogies he was coming up with), when suddenly, he bumped straight into the object of his internal confusion.

Minghao was stronger than he looked. Junhui decided that almost immediately. Running into him, literally running into his person with Junhui’s own person, wasn’t unlike how he thought running into a brick wall must feel. Fleetingly, Junhui’s mind wandered to how many more tattoos he would be able to see if he could also see all of Minghao’s many muscles, the ones he now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt definitely existed under all that old leather he wore.

“Uh,” Junhui blurted eloquently, averting his eyes to the ground, where they belonged. They definitely didn’t belong all over Minghao, which was where he currently wanted to put them. Along with his hands.

ANYway.

“Um,” Minghao started at the same time, their words bumping into each other just like their bodies had a few seconds before. Neither of them followed with anything else for a moment, and then finally Junhui came up with something.

“Hi. Um. You’re still here. Wow, that’s so weird, because...because everyone else is like, gone...and…like...you’re definitely not...so…”

Look, he never claimed that what he was going to say would make any sense whatsoever, all right?

Minghao was just watching him melt down, watching quietly and calmly, with only a hint of amusement in his eyes, and Junhui really sort of appreciated that. Minghao didn’t say anything at all until Junhui finally got his mouth to stop moving, twenty or so stumbling words later. He waited a beat, until he was sure Junhui was done with...whatever he was doing, and then Minghao licked his lips and smiled a little.

“Yeah, I’m still here. I have an appointment with the...with the office in like, ten minutes, so I figured there wasn’t any point in burning off too fast,” Minghao said. Junhui was far too out of his mind to notice the awkward, suspicious pauses in Minghao’s words.

“Oh. Well. Sorry I was...in your way,” Junhui tried next, even though it wasn’t much better than any of the nonsense he’d babbled before.

Minghao chuckled. “You weren’t.”

Junhui swallowed thickly. “Oh.”

It was going stunningly well, honestly.

Minghao shifted from foot to foot, hiking his backpack up his shoulder a little. “All right, well. See you Wednesday, Jun.”

Junhui had no idea how or why Minghao knew his name. He only knew that the way Minghao said it made it sound different than anyone else ever had. It sounded better.

Junhui really needed to get more sleep, he decided. It was starting to affect his daily life.

He nodded, and then Minghao nodded, and then they both started to walk in exactly the same direction.

Minghao stopped first, looking pleasantly irritated. Junhui slowed to a halt too. They looked at each other for a second, the silence between them just short of uncomfortable. Minghao shook his head in what might have been disbelief, actual annoyance, or confusion, and started off again, and Junhui had no choice but to follow, because Minghao was walking in the direction of both the administrative offices and the parking lot, where Junhui’s car was. The blessed vehicle that would take him off campus and away from this parade of humiliation he was currently riding the lead float in.

First he walked a few steps behind Minghao, then Junhui sped up for no reason and jogged in front of him for a bit while they crossed the courtyard. When he got tired of doing that, Junhui paused again and waited until Minghao caught up with him, and they walked the rest of the way side by side. Totally normal. Nothing to see here, folks. Certainly not Wen Junhui making a complete ass of himself in front of a Hot Bad Boy Type.

They walked without saying anything, until the quiet got too loud for Junhui, and he said the only thing he could think of, while he was trying to concentrate on walking without tripping and behaving like a cool guy, instead of a giant freaking nerd. “You’re really good at drawing.”

Immediately, Junhui cringed. Internally. He hoped to hell it was remaining internal. It was basically the last thing he should have said, ever, because now he really was invading Minghao’s privacy, and Minghao was going to hate him forever, obviously, and they would never get to know each other and become friends and then become best friends, Kwon Soonyoung be damned, and after best friends came boyfriends, and he would finally, finally get to put his hands all over the 24-pack Minghao was probably hiding under his t-shirt.

Minghao stopped walking again. “You’ve seen my drawings?” He didn’t sound mad. He didn’t sound happy, either. He sounded...carefully careful. Cautious. Whatever.

Junhui scrambled for the right words. Ones that wouldn’t implicate him in any sort of illicit fuckery, preferably. “Um. Well. You see. I...I, uh--”

“You must have pretty good eyes, to see all the way from your desk over my arm,” Minghao mused. “I mean, I don’t do it on purpose, really. Putting my arm in the way of anyone seeing my paper. It’s just...a habit,” he finished, biting his lip. Junhui wondered if Minghao would ever get a lip ring. He had the mouth for it.

“I mean,” Junhui started, his mind still working overtime on a plausible cover story, “I guess I’ve seen maybe...one or two...pictures? Drawings? Like, just by chance, really, passing by or whatever. It’s not like...I haven’t like, been looking on purpose.”

That part was true, at least.

Minghao shrugged. “S’fine. I don’t care.” He didn’t say thank you. He was probably too busy thinking about how Junhui was a total weirdo. He wouldn’t be wrong.

Suddenly, Junhui realized that right then might be his only chance to talk to Minghao like this, one on one, with no one else around. Right then might have been the only time he could say any number of things he’d wanted to, for a long time.

Junhui finished sorting out the most embarrassing ideas, and stashed them in the side of his brain that was probably dead from too much school and too much Minghao exposure. In the end, he went with: “You know, if you ever wanted to like, study or draw or do...whatever, you could come to my apartment, there’s plenty of room there and I have my own room, and--”

Minghao’s expression turned dark before Junhui could register it was happening. He didn’t know what he’d said to cause it, to cause everything to flip so quickly. He just knew that Minghao was frowning now, looking anywhere except at Junhui as he bit some words out. “See you around, Junhui.” With that, Minghao stalked past Junhui and made a sharp right, and Junhui wanted to call out to him, to tell him that he wasn’t going in the direction of the offices anymore, he was going to the parking lot, but he figured Minghao was probably aware of that. It seemed pretty intentional.

He wondered what he’d said to set Minghao off. He wondered it all the way to the parking lot, walking much slower than Minghao had stomped away. Junhui glanced around when he got to his car. No Minghao. He sighed, unlocking the door and flopping down into the passenger seat, and absolutely did not spend the entire ten minute drive to his apartment picking apart every millisecond of the end of his conversation with Minghao, trying to understand what he’d done and how he could undo it.

In the end, Junhui decided (i.e., forced himself upon penalty of...whatever he could come up with, later, when it mattered) that he wasn’t going to let it get to him. He was an adult, sort of, with adult problems. Ones that didn’t include whatever multiple personalities Xu Minghao had at his disposal.

Junhui was fine. The events of that afternoon totally weren’t consuming him and threatening to swallow his thoughts whole.

He was fine.

“Hey, do you know Xu Minghao?” Junhui asked Soonyoung very casually over bowls of noodles at their kitchen table later that night, after he’d spent about four hours living his best, productive life, not obsessing over the Minghao Situation whatsoever, at all.

Soonyoung slurped a noodle between his pursed lips, chewing it as he answered. “Yeah. Why?”

Junhui didn't know why he was surprised. It wasn’t like he was the only person allowed to know Minghao. Even an antisocial Bad Boy™ like Minghao probably had to have at least a couple of friends.

Junhui frowned a little. “From where?”

Soonyoung shrugged. “I dunno. Around? I think I met him like, once, when he stopped by dance team practice. I guess he was thinking about joining, but never did.”

Junhui tried to imagine Minghao on Soonyoung’s dance team, doing all the intricate hip-hop moves and overtly sexual hip thrusts Soonyoung favored. He couldn’t do it. Maybe it was that he didn't want to do it, especially when he considered that last part. Shaking his head to clear that thought out, Junhui went on. “Oh,” he said, picking at his food again like nothing had happened.

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow at him. “‘Oh’? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

Junhui pressed his lips together and hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Yes.”

Soonyoung dropped a few noodles back into his bowl. Junhui decided not to mention that the action made ramen broth splash all over the table.

Wiping his mouth with his napkin, Soonyoung stared at Junhui suspiciously. “Why, do you know him?”

Junhui shrugged. “Kind of, I guess. He’s in my Prob and Conf lecture.”

Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “Whatever that means.” He took another bite. “And?”

Junhui groaned. “And nothing, you mouth-breather. And I just wondered if he had any friends, or whatever. I guess.” He didn't really know why he was adding “I guess” to the end of all these thoughts, suddenly. Maybe Junhui felt like it would acquit him of some of the responsibility, make it okay that he had somehow ruined things with Minghao before they even started, and it would become totally reasonable that he had no idea why.

Soonyoung was smirking, now. “Wen Junhui, you have a crush.”

Junhui’s jaw dropped. “I do not!”

Nodding, Soonyoung started to look more and more victorious. Junhui wasn’t sure what he was claiming victory over, but he probably didn't want to find out, either. “Fuck yeah, you do, dude. It’s cool! You can crush on whoever you want!” he decided, as if Junhui needed his best friend’s permission to do so. Y’know. If he had a crush in the first place. Which he didn’t.

“Thank you,” Junhui muttered, dropping his head into his hands. He used the time to himself to think of how to steer this conversation in another direction, preferably one exactly opposite of where it was currently heading. It had already gone too far for his liking. Luckily, it only took a few moments for him to pinpoint a topic that would have Soonyoung running for the metaphorical hills, or at least his bedroom, leaving Junhui alone with his innumerable thoughts. “So, about the dog I’m definitely adopting soon…”

Soonyoung got up from the table immediately, snatching Junhui’s bowl from in front of him before he’d even finished his ramen. Junhui tried to protest. It didn’t really work, because Soonyoung was always one conversational step ahead of him, even when he was trying to change the subject himself.

“No, Jun. We are not getting a dog. They are horrible creatures who drool everywhere and tear up the furniture, and--”

“--not unlike you,” Junhui interjected, pleased at his own wit. He anticipated the smack on the head with a dish towel Soonyoung attempted to aim at him a half second before it happened, ducking his head as the towel whooshed above him. Soonyoung made sort of a hrmph sound, but he didn’t try for another slap.

“Jun. I don’t want a dog,” Soonyoung said, yelling to be heard over the rushing water at the sink. “I’m not a dog person. I’m not even a pet person!” he exclaimed.

Junhui rolled his eyes. “Well, I am, and I want a dog. It won’t be your dog, dude. You won’t even have to do anything! I’ll feed it and walk it and clean up after it.”

Soonyoung turned off the water, snorting. “Yeah, for about a month, until you lose interest and find some other thing to get into. Y’know, kinda like how you’ve been doing with these rando classes you keep signing up for, with no major in sight, for two years.”

Junhui wanted to argue with that, he really did. But Soonyoung was unequivocally right about the classes, even if Junhui hated to admit it.

He was still wrong about the dog, though.

“That’s not gonna happen, I swear,” Junhui promised. “I’ve wanted a dog since I was a kid, but my parents would never let me get one. Now I’ve got my own apartment--”

“--that you don’t have to pay for, because I pay for it out of my trust fund,” Soonyoung reminded him.

“I pay for groceries!” Junhui protested. “And, I bought that lamp right there,” he said, pointing a finger into the living room at the atrocious, cheap lighting fixture he’d brought home from the local flea market one Sunday afternoon.

Soonyoung plopped down into his chair across from Junhui again. “Congratulations, you own a lamp,” he said dryly.

Junhui ignored that jab, still thinking. Trying to find a way to get what he wanted. “I’ll do the dishes for a month,” he said finally. Soonyoung hated dishes. Junhui used that fact as a bargaining chip more frequently than he liked to admit.

Soonyoung rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Three months, and I’ll think about it.”

Junhui sat forward, his elbows on the table. “Two months, and I’m definitely getting a dog.”

“Two and a half, and you can have a gerbil,” Soonyoung countered.

“Two and three quarters, plus laundry, plus I’ll talk to that mean little midget T.A. you have a giant heart boner for on your behalf,” Junhui proposed, and when Soonyoung started to blush beet red, he knew he’d won.

He didn’t answer for a long while. They stared each other down at the table, neither of them wanting to break eye contact first. After a while, Junhui started to wonder if Soonyoung had fallen asleep with his eyes open. He wouldn’t put it past him. They’d known each other for ten years, and he’d seen it happen before.

“Two and three quarters, plus laundry, plus you’ll talk to Jihoon using only an approved list of comments and facts which I make for you and you do not go off book, got it, and I’ll continue to think about it,” Soonyoung decided.

“Go with me to the shelter this weekend, and you’ve got yourself a deal. The minute you lay eyes on those sweet little puppies, you’ll change your mind,” Junhui said confidently.

Soonyoung groaned. “I hate my life.”

Junhui grinned, fists in the air victoriously. “We’re getting a dog!”

[saiyanprince541]

A Capsulated Christmas

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!! So here’s a sweet, funny and steamy VegeBul Christmas collab for my awesome friends @nekolover628​ and @loveveggiehead​ (Neko's going to draw the cover art for it, which I'll link as soon as it's up hehe)! Hope you enjoy! ;) FFN version: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12771524/1/A-Capsulated-Christmas Ao3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141614 A Capsulated Christmas

"Mommy?" The two-year tottered into her parents' bedroom, dressed in a powder-pink dress that was embossed with white lilies and had short bell-sleeves, over a snow-white pair of polyester PJs. "Daddy?"

The Prince let out a weary groan, his eyelids fluttering open. With as little noise as possible, he sat up from his bedside, wincing at the slight creak. He groggily rubbed his eyes and stared quizzically at the minuscule form, awkwardly standing at the doorway.

"I'm hung-wee." Bra whined.

Vegeta placed an index finger on his lips, tacitly urging her to keep her voice down, before cautiously clambering out of bed and tiptoeing towards the tiny toddler. He scooped her up in his arms and headed downstairs to the kitchen, not wanting to rouse Bulma from her slumber, since it was barely dawn. She'd come home late last night and they needed to prepare for Christmas, come the morning. The entire crew was invited to Capsule Corporation and a lot of work lay ahead of them.

"Alright, what do you want to eat?" The Prince asked, once he seated Bra in a high chair and fastened a polka-dotted, sea-blue bib around her shoulders.

"Gummy worms!" The child squealed excitedly, throwing her hands up high.

"No!" Vegeta frantically repudiated, with a horrified grimace, icy chills rushing down his strapping figure. "No worms!"

"No wormies?" Bra gasped, her bottom lip trembling and her large cerulean eyes beginning to water up, as she sniffled. The Prince was instantly wracked with alarm, knowing that any second now, his daughter would burst into a clamorous fit of tears, which could very well stir the entire city block to an unwelcoming wake.

"I- What I mean to say is that uh-" Darn it, he needed to think of something fast! "Gummies aren't a breakfast food."

"Weally?" The toddler suddenly went wide-eyed with curiosity.

"Yes." The tremulous Prince affirmed. "But aside from that, you must never eat worms." He added grimly, narrowing his eyes and positioning himself, so he was face level with Bra. "Worms are the embodiment of all evil and if you eat them, you become evil for three whole days and Santa doesn't give you any presents."

A tense moment of deliberation followed, after which Bra fervidly nodded in agreement.

"Okay, no wormies."

'Phew.' Vegeta inwardly sighed in relief, wiping off the beads of sweat dappled on his damp forehead. That went down a whole lot easier than he'd expected.

"Jelly babies?" The half-Saiyan asked.

"No, you mustn't eat those either." He cautioned. Gods, this spoiled girl was up to her ears in junk-food. Didn't she realize that stuff was bad for her? "What you need it a good wholesome treat."

"Ho-sum?" She narrowed her eyes inquisitively.

"Yes." The Prince nodded. "I'm going warm up some oatmeal for you."

Bra didn't know what oatmeal was, but it sounded pleasant and so she decided to go with it. The flame-haired warrior dropped a sachet of quick oats into a bowl, before pouring a cup-and-a-half of milk over it and placing it in the microwave, for a nice two-minute heat. Once that was done, he pulled it out, added three teaspoons of sugar, stirred and set it on his daughter's tray. She looked at him expectantly and he cursed under his breath. Couldn't this entitled brat do anything herself?! Vegeta begrudgingly gathered up a spoonful of porridge, softly blowing on it and proceeding to feed his voracious, blue-haired cub.

"Yummy!" Bra gushed in delight after having a taste. She avidly indulged in the rest of the sweet, savory goodness of the soft, steaming breakfast cereal. "More?" She earnestly asked her father, once the bowl was empty, an imploring gleam in her dazzling, azure eyes- Gods, they were just like her mothers. Unable to deny her, the Prince grumbled under his breath and prepared another serving of oatmeal. Ten bowls later, the ebullient baby was finally sated and Vegeta was an exhausted mess. Darn girl! How could she eat so much and at the same time, be so little?!

Vegeta was wiping the milky residue off Bra's chin with a napkin, when Bulma walked in and witnessed the breathtaking scene, instantly engulfed with an overwhelming deluge of warmth and giddiness, her heart fluttering towards the skies. Even after all these years, it was a rare pleasure to witness the more tender side to her sullen husband. She was going to announce her presence there and then, but before that she furtively pulled out her smartphone and took a surreptitious snap, tucking it away just as fast in order to prevent Vegeta from getting wind. The last time she captured him doing something sweet on camera, he'd disintegrated the hapless device.

"Merry Christmas, lovelies." She strolled over to the duo, a mischievous grin embedded on her waggish features.

"Mommy!" Bra bubbled, holding her stubby arms out. The blue-haired mother gathered up the tiny bundle, cuddling her close.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Vegeta glowered at his wife, evidently displeased at having been caught in such a compromising position.

"Well, I guess I'm no longer used to sleeping alone anymore." She gave him a naughty wink, whereby his face flushed a good three shades of crimson.

"Merry Christmas mom, Merry Christmas dad." Trunks casually sauntered into the kitchen, his hairy mussy and eyes half-lidded. "Merry Christmas Bra." The bleary boy beamed at his effervescent baby sister.

"Twunksie!" The toddler enthused and practically jumped into his arms.

"Whoa, easy there squirt." The older half-Saiyan was barely able to catch the pouncing girl.

"Merry Christmas Trunks." Bulma greeted, kneeling down and planting a protracted kiss on his cheek, to the boy's utter embarrassment.

"Mom." He protested, face turning beet red.

"Hmph." Vegeta sulkily shot his nose in the air.

"Well, I think I'm gonna sleep a while longer." The heiress yawned, stretching her arms out wide. "Trunks, would you mind looking after your sister for a few more hours?"

The lavender-haired demi-Saiyan was about to object, but the yearning look on Bra's face prevented him from doing so.

"Sure thing, mom." He sighed in resignation.

Bulma gestured for her husband to follow and so he trailed after her, back upstairs.

Nightfall...

Less than an hour remained before Christmas dinner. Bulma accoutred a lavish halter neck gown that fell down to her toes. Ornamented along the lower half of the ostentatious keyhole neckline, were a brilliant trim of lustrous diamonds, fashioned in an elaborate V-outline. She'd grown her hair over the last few months and fixed it up in a shoulder length blunt style, with bangs neatly fashioned on the front. Once she'd finished painting her nails a glistening scarlet, the heiress put on an open-toe pair of gleaming black stilettos. After pinning a matching set of silver, four-leaf clover studs to her ears, she was finally done sprucing herself up.

"God, you are looking hot, girl!" She preened, as she stood in front of the full-length bedroom mirror. The showy crimson garb was cut excessively high on the left-hand side, at approximately upper hip-level, revealing an obscene amount of creamy, mouthwatering leg skin. Vegeta's breath hitched, as he entered the room and ogled at the mesmerizing reflection of the vulgar seductress.

"What the hell do you think you're wearing?!" He demanded, at a mind-numbing cross between alarm and arousal, leaning more and more towards the latter, with each passing second.

"Like what you see babe?" She whirled around, raising a devilish brow.

"You- You're not seriously going to wear that, are you?!" The flustered Prince gasped, a stream of blood percolating through his burning loins.

"Oh no, I just put it on for the heck of it." Bulma sarcastically rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm gonna wear it, you dolt."

"That is the most indecent set of garments I've ever seen!" He growled at her, severely appalled. "And considering the way you normally dress, that's saying a lot!"

"Alright, I'll admit it's a little over-the-top, but so what?!" She frowned. "I look like a freaking goddess. Besides, you shouldn't be complaining." She smirked suggestively, ambling towards him and swaying her curvaceous hips, all the while. The sultry staccato of her high heels grew louder as she drew closer, right alongside the pounding thrum of Vegeta's accelerating heart. He stiffened, as the entrancing heiress wound her slim arms around his sinewy frame, pressing her lithe form against his. "The others may look if they want, but you're the only one who gets to touch. Consider it an honor."

"D-Damn you Bulma." He stammered, unable to resist her beguiling charms. From what little he knew, Christmas was meant to be a day of holiness and virtue, yet his lewd wife radiated with sin and sacrilege, no matter what day it was. She placed her glossy, bare thigh between his legs, teasing his hardening crotch. Any willpower he had left, quickly absconded from the dwindling recesses of Vegeta's mind, right alongside the last vestiges of breath remaining in his immobile lungs. As Bulma shifted her face closer to his, he docilely parted his lips, knowing that one way or another he was bound to surrender.

"You know, as much as I'd love to screw your brains out right now, we can't bear the risk of running late." She gave her husband an apologetic look, as a bitter scowl laced his grouchy features. "Sorry Vegeta, but it'll have to wait. Plus, I know how much you hate it when I smear lipstick all over that cute little face of yours." Winking impishly, she traced his M-shaped hairline with the tip of her nose, before exiting the scene.

The Prince seethed to himself, thoroughly vexed. Not only did stir his libido, but she had the gall to call him "cute" and then just up-and-leave as if nothing happened! It was like dangling a half-peeled banana in front of a ravenous chimpanzee and then leaving the poor creature to wither- not that it was appropriate to liken himself to a simian or his wife to a fruit. Unwilling to endure the excruciating agony of blue balls for the next five hours or so, Vegeta dashed towards the heiress, abruptly snatching her and whisking her right back into the bedroom.

"Hey wait!" She yelped, as he tossed her on the bed like a sack of rice and climbed on top, burying his nose within her ample bosom and inhaling deep. "Hold it, mister!" Bulma fulminated. "I had this outfit custom-made and I've waited months, for a chance to wear it! There's no way in hell I'm gonna let you ruin this one, you understand?!"

As the Prince rubbed his face against her plush breasts, he found himself to be rather allured by the charmeuse material, hampering his journey towards the prize that lay within. It was unlike anything else he'd come across. He suddenly felt as though the ornate gown was a part of her and he just didn't have it in him to blemish it.

"Hey, did you hear me?!"

"I heard you." He breathed rather gently and something about the way he said it, made Bulma's heart skip a beat, stomach instantly flooding with a bustling barrage of resplendent butterflies. It was then that she noticed him delicately running his fingers along the soft, satiny fabric. Realization hit her that he was drawn by the provocative outfit so much so that he refused to ravage it, the way he normally did. For long moments, the Prince alternated between trailing his hands and nose down her tantalizing, porcelain skin and the fascinating texture of the flimsy material covering it. Lower and lower he went, planting soft, lingering kisses on her thigh that made her whimper, a sharp surge of scorching desire flooding through her. "Take the dress off." He mumbled against her heated centre.

"Vegeta c-come on, we don't have time." She objected, in spite of all the base instincts screaming at her to jump his bones.

"Hey mom, dad- oh my God!" The lavender-haired half-Saiyan gasped, placing his hands over his mouth in shock, as he saw his father's face immersed deep inside the high-slit of his mother's revealing dress.

"Trunks!" Bulma shrieked, alarm bells blaring in her swarming mind, as she shoved away the desirous Saiyan's flaming head and hurriedly covered her exposed leg.

"Get out of here now brat!" A rubescent Vegeta yelled furiously, cursing himself for not having locked the damn door!

"Y-Y-Yes sir!" Trunks squeaked and instantly darted elsewhere, trying desperately to unsee what he'd seen. It was too much for his innocent young mind to take.

"Dammit, what the heck?!" The heiress scowled, bopping her husband's head, in admonishment. "This is all your fault!"

"What?!" He snarled in outrage. "That's bullshit! You're the one who smothered yourself all over me and then left me hanging there, with a stray boner!"

"Stray boner?! Why you-" Bulma furiously got to her feet and straightened out her dress. "You know what?! Screw you! I don't have time for this! I've got work to do!"

"You're damn right!" The wroth Prince ground his teeth, gripping her by the arms. "Your very first order of business is to finish off what you started!"

"I can't, darn it!" She hissed back. "We've barely got forty minutes left!"

"I don't care if we have ten minutes!" He seethed. "I refuse to walk around with an untended erection, especially if you're going to dangle yourself in front of me the whole time, wearing that!"

"You- freaking- ugh goddamn you." The heiress sighed in surrender, louring at her mulish husband. "Fine, go the shower-room and I'll give you a hand-job. Happy?"

"What?!" He protested. "No way! As if that'll be enough to-"

"Look, I don't have time to primp myself all over again!" She snapped. "It's a hand-job or no job. Your choice."

"How about a blow-job?" He asked, a hopeful gleam in his rapacious, ebony eyes. Gods that cherry lipstick of hers was to die for! Just imagining those glossy DSLs wound around his hankering phallus, as she leisurely sucked away, made him want to spurt right on the spot.

"How about a fucking slap across the face?!" She ruddily fumed, whereby her husband flinched in a rare display of fright. "You know, you're such an asshole! You don't like me rubbing lipstick on your face, but you're more than happy to have it on your cock, right?!"

"That's because no one can see my-"

"You're right, they can't see it." Bulma cut him off. "But they can still see my lips and believe it or not, sometimes it's pretty obvious when a girl's hitting it below the belt, especially with a cock as big as yours."

"Okay, okay fine!" He quickly relented, blushing profusely at her shameless evaluation of his renowned length. "But you'd better not rush this. I want this to last for at least a good five minutes."

"Well if that's the case, I suggest you stop talking and get your ass inside, cause the clock's ticking."

Not needing to be told twice, the Prince rushed into the door nearby, Bulma hot on his heels.

"Hey, I've got an idea." The heiress grinned. "Something that'll make this way more fun. Hold on a second." She went back into the room and brought her I-Pad over.

"What's this for?" The Prince asked, crinkling his brows.

"Last month, I had a private photo shoot done, during my trip to North City and- well- let's just say I didn't have any clothes on."

"What?!" Vegeta sucked in a breath, his face going beet-red. "How could you show yourself to others like-"

"Relax, Vegetables." The heiress rolled her eyes. The Saiyan scowled at the vexatious sobriquet. "The photographer happened to be a woman, so you've nothing to worry about- although now that I think about it, she may have shown a little too much interest." She let out a few tremulous laughs. "Not that I can really blame her of course hehe."

"Whatever, stop talking." Vegeta growled, snatching her I-Pad. His eyes practically bulged out of his sockets, as he sifted through indecent images of his wife, one after another. How could she depict herself like that- to anyone?! Despite any objections he may have had, however, he had to admit that it really got his gears rolling. He decided that this would make good jerk-off material, whenever Bulma wasn't around- not that she needed to know of course, else he'd never hear the end of it.

"Alright I guess it's time." The raunchy heiress went behind her husband, caressing his protruding pectorals with her dainty left hand, while her dexterous right brushed his washboard abs. She marvelled at the way his skin prickled in response to her tantalizing touch. After all the years, her effect on him hadn't mitigated in the slightest. "Whoa, that one's crazy hot." Bulma sensually murmured in Vegeta's ear, as he came across a shot of her stretching her toned leg high into the air, a perfectly straight angle lined along her crux. The Prince's stomach wound up tight, at the sultry sound of her titillating voice in conjunction with the alluring image. "Keep going." Vegeta did just that, eyes glued to the screen, as he flicked through the erotic gallery with a trembling finger, heart racing all the while. Most of the poses were rather simplistic variations of her lying on the sofa and coyly peering into the camera, but what really aroused him was the way she would cover her forbidden areas, in some mock-semblance of modesty- as if she even knew the meaning of that word.

The heiress embarked on a steady journey towards the South and finally slipped her hand inside Vegeta's grey, drawstring pants, wrapping her nifty digits around his engorged length, whereby he let out an amorous groan of pleasure. Slowly, she began stroking back and forth, kneading just the right spots. The Saiyan's onyx eyes fluttered, as a white-hot current of electricity jolted through his throbbing staff. Oh God, did he even need the I-Pad anymore when he had the real deal working him towards the heavens?! Bulma ground herself against him and he ran a hand along the galvanizing length her naked leg, reveling in the invigorating feel of her perfect, porcelain skin. Oh God, he wanted to do so many things with her right now, but sadly time wouldn't allow it.

A short while later...

"That was- rejuvenating." The placid Prince let out a rare, euphoric laugh, as a volley of endless endorphins swam along the cooling thoroughfares of his tranquil bloodstream.

"This isn't fair, you know." Bulma grumbled peevishly, arms akimbo. "You've been thinking about yourself the whole time, but now you've gotten me all hot-and-bothered and I can't do anything, cause the gang'll be here any minute now."

"Hn." Vegeta was barely listening, instead reveling in the jubilant aftermath of the stimulating session.

"You owe me big time, Vegeta." The heiress frowned, a determined look on her face, which tacitly said that a debt was owed and that she would be collecting. "Once the party's over, you're gonna be my personal fuck toy for the entire night, you got me? You won't even be allowed to breathe, without my permission." She resolutely vowed. "I swear to God, I'm gonna do unspeakable things to you!"

"Do your worst." The Saiyan grinned, readily accepting her demand. Gods, it was so hot the way she took charge like that, this fucking sexy bitch. At times like this, he wondered how he'd ever endured life, without her.

"Oh I will, don't you worry."

Not long afterwards, Bulma and Trunks were finally done decorating the Christmas tree with a colorful set of glistening stars, bells, baubles and other trinkets, all linked together with a gleaming, gold tinsel.

"Uh, mom?" The tremulous boy asked.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"I- uh- I was just wondering." He anxiously bit his lip. "What was dad doing to you in the bedroom, earlier?"

"Trunks, I really can't talk about it." She answered sheepishly, face flushed. "You see, it's a grown up-thing. Please do me a favor and forget whatever it is you saw."

"I'll try." He awkwardly mumbled, following a pregnant pause, hoping against hope that he could rid himself of the disturbing images flitting across his tormented and traumatized mind.

Seconds later, Vegeta walked by, holding Bra in his arms. The baby turned towards her mother, gaping in wonderment.

"Mom so pwitty!" She rhapsodizded, grinning wide.

"Aw thanks pumpkin." Bulma patted her cheek. She was going to kiss her, but then remembered that she had lipstick on and that wouldn't be good for either of them. Just then the doorbell rang and Bulma answered it, met by Krillin and co. on the other side.

"My God, Bulma." Eighteen gasped, as she slowly looked her up and down, drinking in the stunning, spellbinding sight of her dreamy, divine dress and the alluring anatomy that came with it. Boy, if she weren't hetero she didn't know if she would have the willpower to hold herself together in a situation like this. "You always did have a striking sense for fashion."

"Thanks L." She winked, bubbling inwardly at the praise. The heiress had recently taken to calling the once-human "L", in reference to her birth name, Lazuli. Eighteen didn't object. With an embrace, she led the cheerful family inside. The guests began rolling in one after the other, all mesmerized by Bulma's grandiose gown.

"Wow Bulma, that's an amazing outfit you got on." Videl remarked, in absolute awe. "Makes you look at least fifteen years younger."

"Thanks Videl, you're looking really hot yourself." She grinned. Her sexual frustrations from before were steadily forgotten, as she revelled in the major ego-boost she received from each and every one of her friends. The sexy scientist knew then that she'd definitely chosen well.

"Gosh Bulma, just seeing you right now, I kinda wish that I hadn't let Vegeta snatch you away from me, know what I mean?" Yamcha jested.

"Hey Bulma, you're looking mighty fine there, kiddo hehehe." Master Roshi grinned lasciviously, his prurient gaze fixated upon her exquisitely enticing bust. "I just wanna get my hands all over-"

"You want to die old man?!" Vegeta snarled, pinning the terrified Turtle Hermit to the wall, his flaming head of hair turning gold of its own volition, eyes a deathly teal.

"E-E-Easy there, V-Vegeta." The ribald geezer stammered, panic-ridden rivulets of perspiration streaming down his forehead, as he was beset with unabated horror.

"You'd better keep your eyes to yourself, unless you wish to be emasculated!"

"Okay, okay!" Roshi frantically waved his hands in surrender, not wanting to lose the most treasured chunks of his anatomy.

Other than that unfortunate incident, the event had gone by rather smoothly. Come dinnertime, a resplendent selection of dishes were lined up along the centre of a long, oaken, refectory table: grilled mackerel, barbecued t-bones, chicken wings, breast fillets and thigh fillets, fried eggplant with a side of marinara, wonton noodle soup, shawarma, pho and a giant, oven-baked turkey, enriched and marinated with the finest seasonings known to man. As they crew basked in the mouthwatering meals before them, a series of conversations were struck up, smiles and laughter ringing across the genial atmosphere of Capsule Corporation.

"Hey Trunks, you're been acting weird all day." Goten frowned at his best friend once dinner was over.

"Sorry Goten." The lavender-haired boy blushed, standing in a corner all by his lonesome. "It's just- I think I saw something that I wasn't supposed to see."

"Really?!" Goku's youngest perked up, in excitement. "Was it a big scary monster?!"

"No, you idiot." Trunks snorted. "Seriously, is that all you ever think about? God, you're such a child." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, this is kind of awkward, but- uh- have you ever noticed your parents doing anything- you know- weird?"

"Gee, I don't know Trunks." Goten tilted his head up, musing. "But now that I think about it, I did hear some strange noises coming from their room the other night."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I asked mom about it and she told me that it's a grown-up thing."

"That's exactly what my mom said." Trunks sighed.

"Hey, I've got it!" Goten grinned. "They were probably fighting monsters together, in secret!"

"Uh- yeah, maybe I guess." The older half-Saiyan let out a guilty chuckle, somewhat glad that at least his younger counterpart was able to preserve his innocence.

"Wow, that's so cool!" Goten enthused.

"Uh huh, that's one way to put it."

Supper never failed to cheer up Trunks, no matter his mood and this time, it was no different. Strawberry trifle, flan pudding, creme brûlée, fresh glazed donuts, millie crepes, black forest cake and cookie dough ice-cream were on the menu, along with a vibrant variety of other dessert specials, all of which made the demi-Saiyan overlook his horrible, harrowing experience. As he indulged himself, Bra came along and he placed her on his lap, sharing food from his own plate with the giddy girl.

"Wow, you actually got me something, Vegeta?" Goku beamed, as he graciously accepted the present being offered up by his cantankerous rival. "That's a first." He untied the red ribbon and began to open up his gift. "You know, it amazes me how much you've changed over the years, especially since- AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!" The Saiyan abruptly yawped, tossing away the object before him as though it were an unpinned grenade and huddling fearfully against the farthest corner he could find. The other crew members looked on in bafflement, wondering what could've triggered such a frightful response from Earth's dauntless hero.

"Oh." Gohan was the first one to put the pieces together, as he noticed a giant syringe inside the box that his father had just thrown.

"That is not funny Vegeta!" Goku groused indignantly, though his flame-haired rival felt otherwise, clutching his stomach and guffawing loudly at the younger Saiyan's expense. Vegeta's mirth was practically contagious and very soon, the entire clique was howling with laughter, well- except Goku of course, who glowered at the lot of them. How could they treat a legitimate grievance, so facetiously? Didn't they realize how dangerous and horrific those needles were?! He still had nightmares to this very day, following his traumatic experience at Wukong Hospital.

All in all, it turned out to be a wonderful day for the motley bunch. The farewells were delivered and the guests left the capsulated complex, smiling and sated. And now came Bulma's piece de resistance. The enlivened heiress was thrilled and overjoyed at the prospect of having Vegeta to herself for the rest of the night. He was hers to do with as she pleased and oh boy, did she have some wonderful, kinky ideas in mind.

A/N: Gotta say, I really enjoyed writing the Vegeta/Bra stuff, but also the family moments in general and let's not forget Bulma's handiwork, if you know what I'm Saiyan xD. Please leave me your thoughts and hit the review button and be sure to check out NekoLover628's awesome art, for she is a very fine artist indeed! :D

[royalfoxfics]

Art by Twin Doodle 

Ao3

FF.net

In which the penthouse gets a makeover, Serge is on call, and Chloe gets a lot of tail.  

Chloe shook out her loose hair and shuddered as she opened the bathroom door and felt the comparatively chilly air the apartment wash over her.  She silently thanked Serge for always including slippers with the silk pajamas he kept stocked in her bathroom.  She hated to think what the cold tile would feel like against her bare feet.  Just looking at it made her feel a shiver and…

 She froze as her eyes locked onto the fallen, and horrifyingly open wooden box that lay motionless on the hard tile floor a foot or so from the steps leading up to her bed.  Her gaze slowly drifted from the box to the vacant eyed ladybug plushie she had perched it.  

 ‘Et tu, Dot?’ she thought.  

 Turning her attention back to the box she grimaced and slowly made her way over to assess the damage. The box had fallen open facing away from her so she couldn’t see the inside.  Part of her didn’t want to look, but she didn’t have a choice.  Picking it up gingerly with both hands, she opened it fully and finally got a look at its’ contents.  She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but she was not disappointed.  

 Inside, and thankfully held securely in place, was a breathtakingly beautiful decorative gold comb, with a gilded honey bee design making up the bridge.  She was pleased to see that contrary to the box it was held in, the miraculous inside was just her style.  Shinning gold, sparkling black obsidian, the bee thing seemed a bit on the nose if that was going to be her motif but she it would probably change into something less obvious like Adrien’s ring did.  Speaking of…

 She looked over at her phone and bit her lip in thought.  Adrien had said they would go over how to use her miraculous and everything tomorrow after school.  But it wasn’t like he had expressly told her not to try it out tonight.  

 Brushing her fingers over the beautiful honey bee design she again marveled at the comb.  The craftsmanship was masterful.  The gold felt strangely warm under her fingers, almost as if the metal were alive, and it stuck her that she was holding a real miraculous.  Something magical, capable of granting her who knows what kind of unimaginable powers.  With this she wouldn’t have to be Chloe Bourgeois anymore.  She could be whoever she wanted to be.  And flirt with cute girls like there was no tomorrow!  

 Of course, magic had never been exactly kind to her in the past and without Adrien to explain how it worked she might blow up half her apartment.  Or take over someone’s mind.  Or travel back in time and accidentally create a world where apes evolved from men! Though, Adrien’s Bodyguard probably wouldn’t be affected much.    

 Deciding it would be best to not play around with powers she could not yet comprehend on a school night, Chloe was about to close the box when,

 Tunk.

 The sudden sound behind her made her jump twist around to look behind her.  

 “Hello?”  She called out.  

 There was no answer.  

 Holding the box tight to her chest, she carefully made her way around stairs in search of whatever, or whoever had made the odd noise.  She saw the culprit almost immediately.

 It was her mostly used box of tissues.

 Breathing out a sigh of relief she sat back down on the bed and let herself fall back onto the mattress. The tissues must have been close to the edge and just slipped off when she sat down or something, she figured.  She rubbed her face and again felt the weight of the day pressing down on her.  She had been feeling significantly better after her bath, but one falling box of Kleenex was all it took stress her nerves to the limit again.  Best to just order some sushi and call it a night before she mistook her teddy bear for an Akuma.  

 Putting the jewelry box on the bed and crawling over to the nightstand she picked up her phone and pressed the speed dial for her faithful personal butler.  She smiled when he picked only half way through the second ring, as usual.  

 “Mademoiselle Chloe? Is something wrong?”

 “Hello Serge, no everything’s fine.  I’m just feeling a bit hungry.  Could you order me an eel plate from the usual place?”

 “But of course, Mademoiselle!  I shall see to it at once.”  Serge said happily.  “May I presume then, that you are feeling better?   …Mademoiselle?”

 “Huh?  Oh, yes.  Much better.” Chloe shook her head and continued. “I’m just tired, Serge.  I’ll be fine once I get something in my stomach and get some sleep.”

 “Understood Mademoiselle, I shall have your order brought up as soon as it arrives.  Is there anything else you require?”  

 “No, I believe that will be all, Serge…  Oh, wait! A few more bottles of mineral water.”

 “It will be brought up shortly, Mademoiselle.”  And with that, Chloe pressed the button to end the call.  

 Tunk.

 She froze.  It was the same sound she had heard earlier.  

 Slowly crawling over to the opposite edge of the bed, she peeked over and saw that the tissue box had somehow moved to the next step down.  Which didn’t make sense since even expensive tissue boxed didn’t move around on their own.  At least, not so far as she knew.  But as she continued to watch, the box suddenly jumped and flung itself the rest of the way down to the floor.  Chloe yelped in surprise and flattened herself onto the bed.

 Peeking over the edge she watched as the box continued to bounce about on its own for a few more seconds before going still.  Grabbing her phone, Chloe just about to call her father when she realized that for once, he might not be the best answer to her situation.  Backing out through her contacts she found Adrien’s name and hit call.

 “Pick up, pick up, pick uuuAAAAAAAA!”  

 Glancing back over to the tissue box on the floor Chloe was surprised to see that it was not on the floor but was instead hovering in midair just a few feet from her.  Panic overrode common sense and she hurled her phone at the box with all her strength.  Unfortunately, aim correction was not one of the Myphone 13’s installed apps, and the top of the line smart phone missed its target by several inches, smashed through the glass window overlooking the beautiful Parisian night, and plummeted to the street below.  

 Undeterred, Chloe grabbed the next object within reach and hurled that at the floating box.  Her pillows were considerably larger than her cell phone, and Chloe managed to knock the box out of the air on her second try.

 The box gave a surprised but slightly muffled, “AAH!” of its own as it collided back to the ground with the pillow resting atop it.  

 Chloe crept up to the box as quietly as she could.  She could just hear a soft moaning coming from it.  Swallowing, she took the pillow off the box and held it in front of her self like a shield.  The box was slightly smushed now, and resting on its side with the opening in the top facing her.  She crouched down to try to look through the plastic covering the opening.  It was too dark to see, so she reached in with a finger to spread open the plastic open so she could get a better look.  No sooner had she poked her finger inside than she felt a sharp sting as something pricked her.  

 “Ouch!”  

 She withdrew her hand quickly and put the injured finger to her lips.  

 “And there is plenty more where that came from you barbarian!”  Called a tiny angry voice from inside the box.

 If she had been in a good mood, Chloe might have been able to forgive the slight injury to her finger. However, Chloe was far from being in a good mood, and the incomprehensible level of insult of being called “barbarian” was beyond forgiveness.  Which was why Chloe felt completely justified in smashing the top of the box with her pillow again.  

 “And there’s plenty more of that too!”  She yelled back.  

 Chloe hadn’t done much damage with the ultra-soft pillow, but she did managed to cave in the center of the box slightly.  Realizing she would need a better weapon she began reaching for the school bag she kept at the foot of her bed when two pure blue, insect like eyes peeked out from the damaged box.  She froze and the eyes glared at her for a moment before the voice inside said,

 “It would appear that we are at an impasse then.”

 “Hardly,” Chloe scoffed at the tinny creature, casually relaxing back to a siting position. “You’re stuck in there, but I can crush that flimsy box with my bare hands if I wanted to.”

 The eyes narrowed to glare back at her.

 “That would be most unwise unless you desire another taste of our sting.”  It said warningly, but Chloe just scoffed again and began examining her nails.  

 “Please, my eye shadow is bigger than you.  If you think some little pin prick is going to, owe!”  

 Chloe winced and shook her hand as she suddenly realized that the spot she had been stung was beginning to hurt.  Looking closely she realized that the injured finger was red and noticeably swollen.

 “Fufufu.”  The thing in the box laughed hotly, its eyes narrowing in satisfaction.  “Our sting has more bite then you think, brute.”  

 If Chloe had been mad before, she was out right seething now.  

 “Listen you… whatever you are.  I am the Mayor’s daughter.  I am the closest thing to royalty you are ever going to meet.”  

 “Mayor’s daughter? Ha!”   The voice barked at her.  “You are speaking to the tutor of true royalty, you bumptious ruffian.  I have held court in a hundred lands, watched civilizations rise and fall with a wave of my arm, and have been personal advisor and confidant to the greatest queens in all of history!  Yet you dare try to command my respect with a pathetic, inherited title like ‘mayors daughter?’  An uncultured Wildwoman born into an undeserved seat of privilege?  You are not fit to shine to boots of our-“

 Slam! Slam!  Slam!

 Chloe had never considered herself to be a violent person, but then she had never considered herself to be a saint either.  Besides, the thing in the box should probably noticed she was reaching for her heaviest text book instead of getting caught up in itself as it insulted her.  

 When she had finished smashing the tissue box into crumpled mass of broken cardboard and shredded Kleenex, and was able to see the world in colors other than red, she realized that she had probably just murdered the horribly rude little what’s-it inside.  She poked cautiously at the box with the corner of the history book.

 “Um…  You… still alive in there?”

 There was no response.

 Deciding that she was in way over her head.  She quickly got up and went back to her bed to search for phone to call someone for help.   Completely forgetting that she had just thrown her phone out the window, she frantically searched among the upturned pillows until she felt the point of a venom tipped stinger jab into her backside.

 “Yeowch!”

 Chloe howled in pain and hopped around rubbing her pricked posterior muttering increasingly explicit expletives as she did.  The tinny yellow and black creature hovering just behind her gave a cry of victory.  

 “Ha!  Surrender, you vulgar guttersnipe!  You’ll not do away with Us so easily!  Our mastery in the art of combat second to none amongst our-“

 Smash!

 Chloe brought the book down on top of the creature as hard a possible and ground its little body into the floor with all the furry she could muster.  

 After a few seconds of pressing down with all her weight she pulled the book away to look at the remains of her attacker.  The creature was completely flattened in an almost cartoonish fashion.  It blinked once up at her once and then popped back into its proper shape.  As it sat up it shook its head and groaned, letting Chloe finally get a good look at it.  

 The first thing she noticed about it was its distinctly yellow and black stripe coloring.  It had a tuft of white fluff around its neck and chest like a fur frock, and a bulbous head that was bigger than its body with two black antennae sticking out the top.  Everything about the creature screamed “Bee” and with an awful jolt Chloe realized,

 “You’re the guardian spirt thing of my miraculous, aren’t you?”  

 The bee thing seemed to snap out of its daze and stared up at her, it’s solid blue eyes wide with horror.  

 “Your miraculous? Impossible!  The guardian would never entrust a Miraculous of such grace and refinement as Uurs to an uncouth savage such as you.  Unless…”  The Kawmi stood and preened the fluff around its chest thoughtfully as Chloe fought back the urge to smash it flat again.  “Tell me, what year is this?”

 Chloe took a deep breath and replied,

 “Twenty eighteen.”

 The Kwami took a step back and seemed dazed again, it’s eyes wide with shock.  

 “Two thousand and eighteen? No.  No that can’t be…  We could not have been kept asleep for so long as that.  Why would…”

 The tinny Kwami’s voice trailed off as it stared out into nothingness.  Chloe arched an eyebrow as she watched the shocked creature seemed lost in its own thoughts.  Then it began to tremble slightly.  

 “Um, hey?  Are you okay?”  

 The Kwami didn’t answer but began to shake harder.  Not knowing what else to do, Chloe leaned down and poked it gently along its side. The Kwami screamed and shot off like a rocket away from her.  Chloe jumped back in surprise as well and landed quite painfully on her now swollen rear. As she rolled onto her side and clutched at her pained posterior, the Kwami stopped in midair and looked around it confusion as if not sure where it was.  As soon as it caught site of Chloe it rounded on her in anger and embarrassment.

 “How dare you touch me, you wretch!”

 Chloe glared up it from the floor.  

 “I was only trying to help you, you ungrateful little monster!  You were freaking out so bad you’re lucky I didn’t just hit you with the book again.”

 The Kwami looked at her appalled.  

 “We… We were doing no such thing!  We are a module of normality and poise.  There is nothing the least bit freakish about us.  If anything, you are the only freak in this room.   Just look at your eyebrows.  They look as if you had drawn them on with mud crusted stick.  And those swollen lips make you look like a bullfrog waiting for a-“

 Thwack!

 Despite being an ancient spiritual guardian, the Kwami seemed yet to have learned not to strike a regal pose and close their eyes when insulting someone holding a makeshift weapon. Chloe on the other hand had just discovered that hitting small creatures with a history book sideways was just as satisfying as smashing it down on top of them.  Especially when the annoying little pest flew strait into wall, rebounded slightly, and fell neatly into potted plant below like a goal hoop.  

 As the tinny creature pulled itself out of the pot with a grunt of effort, it glared little venom tipped daggers at Chloe.  

 “Oh, We think that will be quite enough of that.”  

 Chloe gulped as she strengthened her grip on the history book.  

  About thirty minutes later Chloe sat panting and straining amongst the overturned wreckage of her living room.

 A trail of destruction ran through the entire apartment.  It began at the destroyed tissue box in her bedroom, trailed up and over the disheveled bed, and into the ruined closet that had only one of its French doors still attached to the frame while the other lay in shattered pieces amongst the scattered shoes and torn designer outfits littering the floor inside.  The trail continued back out into the bedroom, past the smashed remains of the tipped over potted plant, into the hall connecting the bed to the rest of the apartment where the window closest to the bedroom had been broken out as if something had been batted through it and into the nights sky.  Further along the wall, the remains of another window lay shattered over the floor as if something had flown back into the apartment in a berserk furry.  

 The trail then crisscrossed and zigzagged over overturned furniture until it ended in the living room where Chloe sat amongst the torn open cushions and ripped out history pages, gritting her teeth in pain and held shut a thrashing and angrily buzzing history book with her swollen and cut hands.  

 “And you can just stay in there until you learn some manners you horrible little cockroach!”  she growled, slamming the book against the floor a few more times.  She continued to wrestle and mumble curses at the book, completely oblivious to the world until,

 “M-mademoiselle?”  

 Her head snapped up in surprise to see her faithful butler standing in the door way holding a serving tray and looking at her in complete astonishment.  

 Chloe quickly hid the still thrashing history book behind her back and gave it a good rap with her scraped knuckles to tell it to be still as she and her butler looked at one another.  And at the wrecked penthouse.  

 Chloe herself looked, if possible, even worse than her apartment did.  She had been stung at least a dozen times, leaving painful looking red welts on her forearms, neck, hands, face, and several places not visible under her torn silk nightclothes.  Bits of debris, including the closet door she had fallen though, were tangled up in her hair which had come partially loose from its’ usual ponytail. Her expression was one of child with her hand caught in the cookie jar.  After first getting into a barroom brawl with the cookie jar and shattering it all over the floor in the process.    

 Serge blinked at her in shock for only a few seconds more before he sprang into action.  In one move he righted a nearby footstool, placed the serving tray atop it, crossed the five feet separating Chloe from the door, kneeled at her side and began checking the extent of her injuries with one hand as he whipped out his phone and began dialing the number for hotel security with the other hand without looking.

 “Mademoiselle, what on earth had happened to you?”  

 Chloe looked around guiltily as she tried to keep the history book hidden behind her back.

  “Um…  there was a… bee.”    

 Serge stopped with his finger hovering over the dial button to look at her.  

 “A bee, mademoiselle?” He asked, his eyes darting to the red welts covering her exposed skin.  

 “…It was a big bee.” Chloe replied flatly.  Serge looked at the torn hem of her pajama shirt and the chaos broken furniture and torn paper surrounding them.  Feeling the need to further elaborate Chole added,

 “…I won.”  

  Authors Notes:

 Regarding the lateness of this chapter:  This chapter was originally MUCH longer.  However I have been informed by everyone that I know that 28 pages and 9,000 words is not an appropriate average length for one chapter, so it has been split up into two. You can expect to see another chapter of this length very soon.  

 Regarding the recent Zag Spoilers:  Yes, I am aware of them.  No. they will not be changing anything in the story.  It’s an AU for a reason.  

 Please leave a review!

[blackthornass]

Do you have any art tips?

Uhhhhhh Funk im not The Greatest Artist ™ but I’ll try to bestow some Wisdom on you. Keep in mind Art is Subjective and I’m no expert and all that so take everything with a grain of salt but that being said I’ll try to give u Tips and Tricks

-listen so if you have a boring class at school just draw in it. School is great because you have 1. Access to paper at all times 2. Incredibly boring lectures. If you have a study hall that’s the Drawing JACKPOT. Basically what I’m saying is practice all the time when you have energy but like that’s such boring art advice. It’s important but “practice! uwu” is like what people with Natural Art Talent say when they didn’t have to figure everything out from the ground up so it’s kind of aggravating

-There’s gonna be people better than you. Chances are you have a friend who’s better than you because this is Tumblr we all draw. Try Not To Compare Yourself ™ which idk how to do but it’s bad don’t do it

-unless you find a terrible person with worse art than you in which case FUCK DUDE COMPARE YOURSELF TO THEM! THEYRE HORRIBLE AND THEY CANT DRAW FOR SHIT LOOK WHOS LAUGHING NOW!

-“work until your idols become your rivals” is absolute bullshit because your idols are working at it at the same time you are. You fool. You imbecile. I feel like this works better for writing when your idols can become irrelevant or straight up die between you being an aspiring author 8 year old and a tired 30 year old who just wrote The Great American Novel ™ or just kind of. Leave the fandom if you’re writing fanfic. Anyway

-ok that’s all the preachy shit, time for Real Art Advice ™. Keep in mind I do digital cartoony shit with Strong Lineart and cel shading for the most part and I pretty much only draw people so my knowledge is limited to that. if you wanna be a professional artist maybe do other things and Expand your Abilities ™

-Ok first off if you’re using Gimp or Photoshop please love yourself and download Firealpaca or illegally torrent Paint Tool Sai or something. I swear by Firealpaca it cured my depression but like. Photoshop is Trash for drawing. Get Firealpaca it has Line Correction ™

-Keep Line Correction ™ at like. A 5 when you’re sketching and at a 19 (the maximum) when you’re lining, coloring, shading, highlighting, doing literally anything that isn’t sketching

-Sketching digitally can be hard if you’re used to sketching on paper and I find it easier to do a sketch on paper, take a picture of it on my phone or scan it, and line/color it digitally. You do you and figure out what works best

-speaking of which I refused to use sketchbooks until I was Worthy ™ of not drawing on notebook paper and uhhhhhh that’s dumb just get a sketchbook they cost a little more than a notebook at Target it’s not super expensive. Although if you’re not financially in the position to buy a sketchbook anyway, just hoard notebooks from school that you didn’t use much. Bam, that’s your new sketchbook

-the Head Circle Cross Thing and the Spheres For Shoulder, Elbow, and Wrist Thing are good and important and will save you

-hands are hard so use references but bullshit your way through it. eventually they’ll look good (I haven’t gotten there yet)

-HAVE FUN WITH NOSES OH MY GOD. Noses are super fun and cool because there’s, like, infinite variety with them, they can be as long or short, thin or thick, rounded or pointy as you want, you can make them be, like, triangles or circles or more squareish or diamond-shaped, the base of the nose can be about as high or as low on the face as you want, you can make the nostrils prominent or not really there at all, they can add another Layer to a character’s design, oh my goodness noses are so fun. They’re like, severely underrated and oh my god I could gush about how fucking fun noses are

-same with facial expressions. Where you put the pupils and how big they are, how much of the eye is covered by eyelids, the way the eyebrows are, the mouth, tons of other shit. There’s loads of variety and so much you can do and honestly having fun with the facial expression is The Best Part. There’s tons of Face Art Chart Memes floating around, you know the ones, save it to your phone/computer and practice those on your own time it’s fun

-if you don’t know how to do something, avoiding it won’t help you. Just kind of draw around with it in your sketchbook or in a “I’m not posting this” file until you feel confident enough to do it in your Real Projects ™.

-Ok for lining did you know..… it isn’t illegal to erase parts of the lineart to clean it up.… just be careful and draw it back in to the best of your abilities if you erase too far and use a smaller eraser brush/lining brush for this… I know it’s tedious nobody likes lining it’s okay you can do this put on some good music

-use mcfucking references

-eyedrop character’s official colors but adjust said colors based on the color of your background to make them look less funky is my general rule for clothing, I usually pick the hair/skin by myself or from something I’ve already drawn though

-for flats, make sure your lineart is all closed off and there aren’t any “holes” cuz that’ll mess up your coloring

-so how I do flats is I use the magic wand tool to select whatever I want to color, expand selection 3 pixels (in firealpaca you can set it to do this automatically), pick the color I need, turn up the brush to as big as possible, and color it in. It saves the time you’d spend with cleaning up where the color gets outside the lines

-you can do the flats on one layer, but I personally like to do every Object on a different layer so when I do shading, I know what goes on top of what

-if a color is darker than the lineart it looks ugly so pick your line color with caution (or just use black! Unlike shading black lineart tends to go with pretty much everything)

-SHADE YOUR GODDAMN ART. Like, what makes people go “wow holy shit that’s good!” is the shading + highlights, don’t be lazy ya fuck.

-I’d take a break before shading to Refresh Your Eyes ™ but also I constantly forget this is a good idea

-don’t shade with black oh my god. Unless you’re doing Strong Punchy Dramatic Stuff or monochrome black and white stuff, don’t shade with black, and if you’re doing that it’ll probably be drawn into the lineart. Don’t shade with black please we can tell you’re doing it and it looks bad

-highlighting with white isn’t too bad though, especially with the eyes, but it might look too strong in some places

-As a general rule, shading is darker and more saturated, highlighting is lighter and less saturated. Whether it gets warmer or cooler depends a lot on what color or thing you’re shading or what you want the feel of the picture to be and I’m not 100% sure how to do it myself so uh. Trust your gut and change the color if it looks wrong I guess.

-where exactly the shadows or highlights fall depends on lots of things, just kind of. Look at how things work irl maybe? This is the kind of thing that you just have to practice, and it’ll look like shit until suddenly it doesn’t sorry I’m not sure what to say

-One Medium Sized White Dot on a layer above the lineart where the pupil borders the Iris (or the whites of the eyes if you’re like me and you make the pupil and Iris one thing) works for a glint in the eye that makes a person look less dead and more cute. How big you’re gonna make it depends on how adorable you want the person to be

-SMOOTH BORDERS FOR THE SHADING ARE REALLY IMPORTANT IF YOURE DOING CEL SHADING which is why firealpaca is my best friend thanks line smoothing. If you’re doing like. Soft shading or painterly shit or other kinds of shading it’s less Super Important but like. Still be sort of neat. Unless being really messy and sketchy is what you’re going for but even then you still need to be sort of careful

-for simple backgrounds, it’s like. Easy to make it interesting. Add polka dots to the background or a big old square or a gradient or a cloud filter or something the possibilities are endless. Another option is to straight up make it transparent and write a secret message in white on the side. But uhh never do a blank white background at the very least fill it with a solid color

-ok style is kind of hard because I never had to struggle to find my style? I just “drew in my handwriting” so to speak and then if along the way I realized something looked shitty I just changed how I drew it slightly? I guess a thing you could do if you’re in tune enough is look at the styles of things you do like and things you don’t and figure out why you do and don’t like it. “I like how *2010s cartoon* does Eyes!” great take that general concept. “I hate how this shitty yaoi has enormous hands!” great then don’t do that. It’s all Personal Preference my dude style is Your Own Thing

-notes aren’t everything but fuck do they feel nice. Self reblogs are fine but don’t overdo it, I’d say reblog it Twice to account for time zones and tag it as self reblog so as to not be a dick

This got long whoops. That’s all I can think of but I hope this helps it’s All I Know

[hhemeraa-a]

         Fingers trailed along the velvet covered walls; dark maroon accented with black ornate designs made the dim hallway feel too warm despite the overhead lights gave off an odd cold modernism with paintings of new age abstraction that were jarring against the soft feel. It was tacky, but he continued to trail fingers passively along the fabric as he strolled with mild purpose. Somewhere there was music playing, loud and booming-- he could feel it in the walls at each vibration of bass and drum that rumbled. 

        He wasn’t drunk, but the half empty glass in his hand wanted to tell him otherwise, and he continued on with a wavering smile until eyebrows raised at the sudden table that disrupted his path. Hand and arm didn’t stop touching the wall, even as the single vase rested out of place (another piece of modern art that didn’t fit the increasingly dreary hall) crashed to the ground. 

        Tacky.

        Dark wood doors in front of him opened without needing to touch the handles and he was greeted by a familiar woman in black behind a desk that continued to look out of place. 

        “And what are you~ doing working on such a fine evening as this, Erica?” Myles called in the sing song voice he knew she liked, posture straightening as he glided across the suddenly bright room. He wasn’t expecting her there, but that wouldn’t stop him. H knew he was getting closer to his objective the cleaner it started to look. “It’s such a warm night, you should be out with that sweet sweet husband of yours~”         “O-oh! Mister Baida, I--- y-you know he’s n-not my--” she scrambled to stand, clearly flustered, checking the clock on the computer screen, wall, watch... she was never very good with time, “you’re not supposed to be--”         “I know he’s not~ but you make it so easy to tease-- and we’ve talked about this, you can call... me...?” Leaning in, he motioned with his hand, urging her to finish the sentence.         “M-Myless...--” She faltered as she whispered it, opening her mouth to continue on with her worries to which Myles very sharply interrupted her.         “Yes, and where is he?” Impatience dotted the over politeness he used, but the game with her was dull right now and he was done with it, “I assume in the usual spot? Thank you, Erica, you’ve been an amazing bit of help.”

           A hand waved her away and already ignoring her bland attempts to stop him with each steady stride to the doors to his left. Plastic smile faded and the glass in his hand felt too warm, but he sipped from it anyway as if its bitterness could fill his mouth with fire.            More dark wood. More velvet walls. More disgusting clashing new age modernism.          Pulling out the letter opener he swiped from Erica’s desk, Myles dragged the sharp end into those damn... velvet.. walls he hated so damn much the closer he got to the office.  They were stuffy, oppressive. A single jagged line followed his path, filling the small space with the soothing sound of tearing and he nearly skipped had the journey not been so short.

          “Evening Mister Ba--”           “--Myles~”           “...Mister Baida.”           The guard at the door remained placid in expression and response with an expectant outstretched hand. Myles begrudgingly slapped the letter opener into his palm.            “You never were any fun.”           “...and you never had any control... please refrain from breaking the furniture this time.”           Hazel eyes flickered violently as the door opened to a large room, “you’re starting to sound like my brother.”

          Familiar face sat behind a desk facing away from large bay windows that stared out across nothing but blackness and dim city lights. Taller with dirty blond hair speckled with strands of gray that was a clear reflection of their father, Myles’ older brother Jayson remained unwavering in his reading as Myles carelessly sat with cross legs to the burgundy chair from an era long dead. 

          ”You know it’s going to cost a small fortune to replace the wallpaper you damaged,” the other didn’t bother looking up as he addressed him. Looks like he was caught.            ”Good. Maybe you’ll pick something that matches for a change.”           “You know mother picks the style.”           “And you sign off on them.”           “......why are you here.”           “You called me here.”           “11pm is our appointment. It’s 10.”           “I was around... Can I not come early and see my dear Jay--”           “Cut the shit.”           Ah, there it was. That ugly annoyed anger he was so used to and Myles bristled in his chair, but lips pressed shut as he watched the tight strain in the other’s hands. What a delight to ruffle another’s feathers by simply being.            Another short silence only filled with the sound of turning pages and Myles took the opportunity to finish off the last of his drink before setting it on the hard wood of the desk. 

          “What happened last time?”           “...what do you mean.” Myles knew and he stared boredly out into the darkness.           “I thought we had an agreement.”           “We did-- We do.”           “Then why is the man I paid you not to kill, dead?”           Myles paused, pretending to think it over.           “I’m... still not sure what you mean. Last I saw him he was alive.”           “Barely,” the distaste in his brother’s voice was like music to the blond’s ears and it took everything he had to hold in the smile when photos were thrown across the desk towards him from the folder the other held, “he killed himself yesterday.”           “Ah, well that’s unfortunate, but he wasn’t a very nice man. Kept crying all the time about his poor children or something or other...”           “So I ask again... what happened?”           “You can’t really be blaming this on me? Their emotional instability is no longer my responsibility once they leave my care Jayson, and you knew exactly what was going to happen to him if you left him alone with me, in fact you wanted this, this is more your fault than min--”            He had been too busy carelessly flipping through the photos to admire the beautiful stain the victim left on concrete to notice the low threatening tone in Jayson’s voice or that his brother had quietly stood and walked to his side. It wasn’t until the fist connected with his jaw that Myles snapped out of his self indulgent haze flipping out of the seat and onto the ground. Somewhere a door opened, (probably the guard) and Myles silently cursed him for taking away the letter opener as another fist collided with his nose. Feet scrambled to get their bearings, but large hands gripped the front of his shirt to lift his small frame from the ground and he was reminded exactly how much stronger the other was. Palms that seemed scrawny in comparison pawed fruitlessly against the stifling hold as the familiar taste of copper filled his mouth.            “You’re weak Myles, always have been with no GODDAMN SELF CONTROL. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU’VE COST US?”           Hysterically frantic words fell out in an attempt to play confidence. Accusatory and angry, there were few people the smaller could hide his true intentions with, his brother being one, and his voice seemed shrill in the vast room, “THEN WHY DID YOU CALL ME HERE? IF IM SO WEAK, WHY CALL??”            Eyes shut expecting another blow... but to his surprise, none came. The raised and readied fist squeezed and didn’t move and hazel eyes blinked open and stared nervously between a stoic face (whose gears were visibly turning like sludge between what he so obviously wanted to do and what he needed to do) and fist before Myles stopped his attempts at escape to relish in the fact that this could only mean one thing.

His brother needed him for something. 

          A barked out short laugh escaped unnaturally smiling lips and he couldn’t help the sneer as he wheezed, “Hmm? Why did you call me? A job? A personal favor? If it was just to fight, you could have saved me the damn trip--” The large hand let go and Myles fell back against the floor, wiping slow dripping blood from nose and a bitter triumphant laugh shook his chest as he pulled himself from the ground. The pain that was welling up in folds on his cheek was almost negligible compared to the excitement that his oh-so-put together brother was going to ask him - the filthy perverted family mess - for a task. By the time he was standing, the other was already trying to ignore him, wiping bloody knuckles and sighing as if this was all some large inconvenience. It wasn’t. Not yet. 

          “...you must really hate whoever it is to have called me.”           “Be quiet for once for fucks sake...” Familiar hands appeared next to the blond’s face with a readied damp towel. It was the man that had taken his weapon of choice.            “What’s this guy’s name?” eyes narrowed as he took it and pressed it against his nose, “he’s cute--”           “Stop that--”            Another snicker muffled behind the towel, he sighed suddenly exhausted. (Although he heard the muffled name ‘Sean’ under breath and he was thankful that the towel covered his mouth.) A manila folder slid its way within arms reach and the blond eyed once again between man and paper before reaching out to take it. How odd that they were always able to prioritize work from their scuffles (as they were called by their mother). 

          “HA!” Myles couldn’t stop it as he opened the folder to see who it was and an ugly laugh filled the room, unbridled.

          “...once you complete this...” Jayson aggravatingly grumbled through the noise, “you’ll have that... freedom, you were crying so loudly about. You will become just another contractor free to explore your... disgusting hobbies. I wanted to cut you completely, but mom doesn’t trust you on your own and after some thought...” Myles was still in a fit, trying to hold his mouth as he flipped through the information, “...neither do I.”

          “That’s fine and all, seriously it is, but you, Jayson. You after all you’ve called me - sick, perverted, filthy, psychotic - this? This is... priceless,” his brother didn’t say a word and Myles relished in his silence. A single photo was held up as if it was his crowning achievement, “you want me to question your wife?”              “No one can know and it must look like an accident,” finger tapped against wood, “apparently she’s been embezzling funds from a client hiding behind our name and if there’s one thing I hate it’s--”           “Liars.”

[dwtspd]

SYTYCD 14 - top 9 perform

I know I said I would post this yesterday but I got distracted by the DWTS pro announcement.

Interesting opening number. But why did they make Kaylee wear an ill-fitting giant polka dot fur jumpsuit?

Drinking game - take a shot every time someone says they want to show a different side of themselves or seeing a different side or words to that effect.

Logan and Allison - HelLO Sasha and Emma! I agree with Mary about his triple steps being “skippy” and also he seemed to lean forward too much from time to time which from some camera angles made his butt look like it was sticking out. Timing wise he got all the fast small steps down. Cute way to open the show. Later, his solo was breathtaking. That double turn!!!

Koine and Marko - Watching their rehearsal vid I didn’t expect this song. Koine showed that she can get down and do hip hop. The characterisation was great. Now I need to get some black ripped jeans. Her solo leotard is so pretty. But I don’t really find myself connecting with her when she dances.

Dassy and Fikshun - Idk...it feels like there was a lot of pointless scuttling around and running. I loved the side by side parts. But on a whole this dance was kinda underwhelming. Dassy and Fik-shun performed each move to perfection though.

Mark and Comfort - Is Mark incapable of doing some spontaneous dancing in the opening call?? Like dude we all love your hammy self but is it too hard to just do a freeze or something? This pair is so cute why do the choreographers insist of making them an angsty coupe all the time. I thought Mark’s classical technique can be more refined e.g. pointing all the way through his toes. Good to see him committing to the emotion of the dance. I love his propensity for doing bboy to softer slower songs. He makes it work so well.

Idrc about Maddy Ziegler but Leap sounds like a nice movie.

All star number by Travis Wall! He never fails to amaze me with his concepts. Like the look and feel of this dance. The opening made me think of a mob gathering to watch a lynching...is that too dark?

Lex and Gaby - How did Lex get onto the chair so fast?? Then sit down again?? How many turns was that??? This was so fast! Cute, sharp and entertaining. Plus Lex smiling. Although there was one part where the camera angle had Lex perpetually half-blocked by Gaby for an entire run around the stage. I like the funny little small accents in his solo.

Sydney and Paul - gah I hate her solo song. Also did she back out of doing an aerial at the last minute? Tanisha did the cartwheel/aerial into the kick move way better. Paul is rocking that curly hair in rehearsals. And the shades. But not the white frame ones. The white frame shades didn’t work for me. I saw a bunch of sync issues between Sydney and Paul. I think Sydney for most of the dance was fortunate to hide behind the sunglasses. I agree with Vanessa (gasp) and Mary that she could have gotten down and dirty and have more of a skank face.

Top 9 dancers group number - this song belongs to Shawn and Derek bye. Also what is with the weird suits?

Kaylee and Cyrus - This song sounds like something I would hear my high shool art teachers say. Kaylee’s turns were inconsistent - some were GREAT but others were weak. She fell out of one of them. She looks good in this style though and had some really good moments. Was it just me or were Kaylee and Taylor’s solo costumes kinda similar?

Taylor and Robert - I love-hate this song. The vocals are annoying but the beat is good. Love the choreography. I felt like Taylor and Robert approached this dance too clinically. I couldn’t feel the fiery crazy party vibes a samba should have and Taylor looked a bit stiff sometimes. The ending was a bit iffy coming out of the final lift. They didn’t look very convinced when Cat asked if they could find more chemistry...

Kiki and Jenna - Does it matter if Kiki dances with his glasses or not? Because he’s head flicks are so fast and wild I’m sure even contacts can fly out of his eyes. How shortsighted is he? Ooooooh I like this dance! Nice choreo from Mandy Moore. I think Kiki could have been a bit more flowy and extended his lines a bit more. Is Mary crying? I didn’t think it was cry worthy. It’s not overtly sad or angsty or emotional. Oh my god Nigel stop with the matchmaking.

The bottom 3 are Dassy, Sydney and Mark. Mark was an iinitial surprise, but I thought about it and realised his dance last week might have faded into the woodwork in the grand scheme of the night. I wasn’t sure why Dassy was there, but after I thought about it I realised I couldn’t remember her last routine, so similar issue. I thought Sydney might have been bolstered by her good routine previously, but apparently not enough, and the judges send her home. Given the bottom 3, I’m not surprised. I think I’ve seen Paul’s denim hoodie on Cody Christian before whoo.

[callmebywhateverilike-blog]

a letter to you

hi baby. I know I used to never call you that and I hated people that called their significant other baby... but I am one of those people now and I totally get the charm.

This is for you. To like, look back on, reread if you’re needing reassurance. Or to ignore completely if you’d like. Whatever you do with it is up to you I guess.

I haven’t really thought this out or anything so prepare for word vomit I’m sure. But here goes.

You are one of the most powerful presences I have had in my entire lifetime. I can remember gawking at you from across the room in study hall for months. I can remember seeing you around when you were younger than that even, looking like a little skater cutie boy. Someone I’d NEVER have a shot with. (Even as a fucking eighth or ninth grader I remember having this thought in passing) I remember watching you, seeing you in different phases. I remember one day being obsessed with your style and fun ass shirts and cute little glasses that used to fit your CUTE little face perfectly and made me realize how much I liked blue eyes.

I can remember getting excited that I could see you were somehow friends with Thomas and thinking about that for WEEKS trying to think of things I could do or say to connect the dots and get to have a conversation with you.

I remember the first time you sat by me. The chairs were moved in study hall one day into clusters and you KNOW I’m shy and liked to keep my head down in school and didn’t have any friends in that class so I went for Hailey rice. Also friends with Thomas and seemed friendly enough... and who the hell should just happen to come strolling right on in and sitting down in the seat TOUCHING mine? LUCAS FUCKIG WISNER. Even typing this now what like 3, 4 years later? I can feel my face flushing all over again.

I used to get SO nervous and tongue tied I would literally turn bright red and start actually sweating because I wanted to talk to you so bad. And I can smell exactly what you smelled like then. I knew you were going to be someone important to me I just don’t think I understood yet how. And to be totally honest some days now I still can’t wrap my head around it.

I remember pretty much forcing Danielle to go to the rodeo with me just because I knew you’d be there and you had told me to come. I remember sticking around just to see you play and maybe get to talk to you.

I remember ditching art class everyday for like the entire last part of my senior year just to go hide out in the pac and make out and hold hands. Or just walk around and do weird shit. Enjoying being around you.

I remember wanting to have you SO bad but being actually terrified. That was honestly one of the greatest summers of my entire life. Going to your shows, getting to know you, spending PAINFUL days with your family just trying to keep a smile on your face if things were clashing. We did a lot of exploring and going on cute little dates and taking a lot of my favorite photographs of anything anyone ever.

I remember the first time I had you in my mouth and I was so nervous for no reason. Like it’s just you? It’s just Lucas? But I can still feel that feeling all over my body. And I still do if I’m feeling kinda shy that day. I remember being bad at it but I’m pretty sure you were just happy I was touching you which is... :’) like thank you for that.

I remember the first time you went down on me. Braces and all lol. I’m still kinda shocked I was ballsy enough to ask you to do that. I just wanted it. Still my favorite thing in the fucking world and makes me feel so special and like a fucking queen. I can remember that you were very quick about it. I think you were nervous which is the cutest thing in the world to me and makes me smile so much even now.

I remember sending you so many “I can’t wait to fuck your brains out” texts that entire summer but not doing just that... we were so silly then. I’m glad things happened like they did. I’m glad it took 3 months and it was built up and we were very in love and happy and it just kinda finally happened... August 4th. (If anything ever happens to me and no one can crack a code of some sorts I left anywhere just assume that it’s that date)

It’s funny, I dont remember what movie we went to see but I know we went on our first official “date” after that. I have a picture from that day on my phone that I’ve always saved. Just me with my feet up in the van, you smoking a cigarette and standing outside up against that old radio station or whatever by Maria’s neighborhood. We thought about having sex there too but thought it’d be too risky... something I think we’d rethink now if given the opportunity lol.

I remember just needing to have you as many times as I could to make for a life time so far without it. Sneaking into Danielle’s house and fucking in her guest bedroom? Having sex 3 maybe 4 times a day? I love us.

I rmeber your mom getting so mad st the very first picture I posted with you. Us in bed. My bed. Honestly I don’t know why I thought that’d be a good idea to post but you won some you lose some. I remember random things. You getting into a very heated fight with your dad over you insisting to wear black skinny jeans in the water park (which now makes me giggle because you do you babe but wyd) first time meeting your parents and having a white see through shirt on and some ridiculous pants on that didn’t fit me.

I remember singing- shouting hozier so loudly and terribly to you in the car while we took little trips. I think I’m thinking of hot springs specifically. I can still picture how you were looking at me when I looked down at you. I didn’t realize you were watching me so intently at first. You were laying down and tired and I just figured you’d lay back with your eyes shut while I drove. But I rmeber you looking at me and holding my hand and I just knew you were in love with me.

I can rmeber saying I love you the first time. I drove all the way to wherever you were camping and knew I was going to tell you then. I had practiced on the way there. Also I almost accidentally drove myself off of a small cliff on that ride which I never told you about. Like really. Gravel ride and going way to fast around a turn. But anyway. I remeber walking around all day in nature and what not with you and trying to tell you then but we’d start talking about something else every single time. I can remember feeling so antsy and crazy the entire day. It’s funny I didn’t picture myself telling the love of my life that I loved them for the first time being in a lake, family nearby, wearing a T-shirt and shorts because I was not prepared to go swimming at all. And then it just kinda came out. Not on purpose. Not like I had thought about. I just looked at you and all of the times I had tried to tell you just kinda... bubbled over. I can still TASTE the long pause you had. Not even that long actually. But still. Long enough for me to spit out something dumb like just kidding or something like that. And you knew I wasn’t. I can remember you saying you just wanted to be sure and wanted me to know you meant it.

That’s the shit that has kept me alive some nights. Like those little instances. And there’s thousands more... I can remeber every little sweet thing you’ve ever done for me or said to me. And those are things that I keep so close to me. Your words, your scent, your looks and small gestures.