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ashxketchum · 8 months

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MY DEPRESSION HAS BEEN CURED MY SKIN IS CLEAR MY CROPS ARE FLOURISHING ALL BECAUSE OF THIS ONE IMAGE THIS IS THE YEAR OF ADVENTURE PANDERING LETS FUCKIN GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Let's break this down one by one ~

This is such a good Sora fit I don't even know how to explain how very much OG Sora this is, the pink tones of the overall sporty outfit perfectly capture all levels of her personality. To top it off she's sharing flower themed cream sandwiches with Piyomon AAAHHH the subtle reference okay merch team you can take a w. Not to mention Sora is perfectly matching with Taichi and the fruit in her sandwich is orange stoooopppp itttt!!!!!

TAICHI OMG who is dressing this boy because that's the most he's ever jocked as a 11 year old. The sweatshirt, cargo pants, matching wristband and the sense to put his goggles down, he is winning the sporty casual fashion show for sure. And of course him and Agumon are enjoying some chicken popcorn, love how they weren't even subtle with the packaging art we all know Japan's favourite fried chicken brand anyway 🤣

Yamato. YAMATO. Y A M A T O. You're 11 can you tone down the cool guy heartthrob behaviour for a minute because I am losing my mind THE DOGTAG CHAIN IM GONNA SCREEAAAMMM ACTUALLY I AM SCREAAAMING AAAAHHHHHHH. He looks so good, there is absolutely no wrong element in his entire outfit, everything is perfectly paired up, a fashionista is among us. The little thumbs up over the onigiri that Gabumon is offering him?? Is he telling Gabumon that he's okay with having one and Gabumon can have the rest because that's the sweet, protective, kind, caring baby he is at heart???🥹🥹🥹The blue and green gradient in the background tho?? Mimato math is mathing bestiesss 🤣

Takeru is just a lil guy, but such a perfect lil guy!!! I like how his outfit has the similar green shade as his anime outfit but they still chose to gave him a new beanie instead which doesn't really match the colour tone of the rest of the fit but it's Takeru so we know that he can pull any hat off and that's what he does!!! Him and Patamon sharing burgers, okay mood, but why is he looking so surprised? I need to know what happened, did he spill some sauce on his overalls? Was the burger too hot to bite? WHAT HAPPENED TAKERU????? 😢

Jou, I see you paired up the plaid pants with a nice long, muted, warm toned jacket BUT I SEE THAT PURPLE SHIRT POKING IN FROM INSIDE and excuse me sir but why that purple with the plaid 😭 I need to see a version where Jou isn't wearing the jacket so I can make an informed rating on this outfit but may I add that in the full merch pic he has paired this look with green and white sneakers...I cannot defend you I am sorry Jou, please try brown loafers next time 😭 But outfit aside, Jou eating a taiyaki with Gomamon is lowkey funny I just know that Gomamon cracked a Marching Fishes joke at least once.

Koushiro...I will not go into detail but I will say it's cute that you have a sweater with a little K on it, it's also very cute that there is a splash of orange in your outfit, who's attention are you vying for it isn't subtle at all bby boy and I am grateful you matched your shoes to your sweater even if the socks are definitely a choice and that blue with orange is also definitely another choice. Good to see your are making choices. I like that him and Tentomon are sharing dango, it's always nice to see Koushiro's fondness towards Japanese traditional snacks hinted at in some way.

MIMI. QUEEN. SLAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!! YOU NEVER EVER MISS MY SWEET BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL. The pastel tones matched with the grey stockings for contrast, that beret and the fuzzy hem boots, you just know she shops at Takashimaya and Isetan and anything below it will just not do 👏🏻 Plus Sora and Mimi are wearing the same tones, which probably means that they pre-planned the outfits together, cuties!!! Also Crepe is such a Mimi™️ choice of dessert but I always get teary eyes when I see Palmon mimic Mimi's gestures, there is just so much love and admiration between them for each other, pure childish wonder 💚 And the crepe even has a cutesy character face on it, which kinda looks like Monzaemon, though I can't be sure but if it is then another win for a subtle reference. Not to mention both Yamato and Mimi look like they've dressed in a more cool and elegant style than the rest like they might be on their way to a date THE MIMAT MATH IS MATHING YALLL!!!

Hikari looks super cute, I think there isn't much official art of her in casual clothing for OG stuff so it's nice to see her in a more cutesy fit suited to her age. The hairband matching the cardigan is such a nice touch!! I can't recall any other casual outfit for OG design Hikari except the War Game and Memorial Party dress, so I think this would be the first time we see Hikari with a hairband and it just looks adorable. Of course she is sharing an ice cream with Tailmon, it's kinda their brand now but like Takeru she's making a surprised expression, perhaps she wasn't expecting Tailmon to offer her a bite of her ice cream?

To conclude, this is probably the best OG artwork we've gotten since Idk maybe the Rainy Day stationery series. This will be sold in advance at the Kamio Store booth at Anime Japan 2024. No other details were mentioned, but the event booth sale feels like a pre-sale before the goods become available more widely at other outlets, hopefully, at some stores that international fans have access too as well.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

Ayushi out.

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loneliestluvr · 5 months

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𝑻𝒐 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝑰 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑮𝒐, 𝒊𝒊𝒊.

i. ii. iii.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron OC

Synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.

Warnings: beron😒, abuse in general(like triggering af please be warned), me being a rhysand hater, brief suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4.1k— this took me all day to write(from 7-9 am and then 3-now please be thankful😞🙏🏼)

taryn thinks: YES I DID CHANGE THE NAME. IT FITS BETTER. I HAD NO IDEA WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS WHEN I STARTED. HUSH. i would like to choose this very moment to tell you there will be a happy ending and to say they WILL end up with babies. still unsure how many parts this will be though 💃🏼 im just a gorl. @readychilledwine this is my payment for that tamlin baby and domestic fluff(smut if you’d like) bonus chapter for lost bonds 🤗

There was glass shattered on the floor by the windows.

Eris’s head was down as he stood before his father, pieces of deep auburn hair hanging by his eyes as he tried not to move and tried not to let any emotion pass over his face. Just as Beron expected when he took his lashings— whether that be from a whip, his tongue, or his powers.

However indignant, the fact his father had chosen his tongue today was a mercy.

“You are insignificant,” Beron seethed, spit spraying from his mouth as he yelled. The deep, cruel, voice booming off the walls of his fathers study. “—a bastard, truly. A bastard because you surely can not be this stupid and be born of me. A worthless excuse for a first son.”

Eris kept his stature wane, making himself small for his father despite the fact he was a few good inches taller than the male.

Sometimes, he thought the High Lord’s need to belittle and denigrate everyone around him, raise his voice and grow violent, was driven by some sort of lust. For power, respect, whatever it may be. Something he lacked.

That maybe the fact he put energy into minimizing his court, his family, his wife even, was because he didn’t even respect himself. That he needed to create room for his anger and hatred by pushing others down.

What had happened to him that made him so cruel? Is this how his father had been to him? Was this love to him?

“How is it that we’ve only just learned there’s a fourth sister, Eris? Tell me,” Beron’s voice grew lethally quiet as he spoke and Eris forced himself to breathe, bracing mentally. “—tell me so I know who better to put on the throne instead of your pathetic fucking excuse of life.”

His words grated against his ears, voice tight and angry and again growing louder as he spoke.

Another glass was thrown, and shattered. Hitting the wall so close to Eris’s head that a piece flew at him, slicing across his cheek lightly. He barely moved.

The crystal thin enough, knife-like enough, that he felt the warmth of his blood start to slowly seep from his skin.

Like moisture collecting on the petal of a white poppy in the early morning dew when he sat in the meadows by the Forest House, Saydee’s head in his lap as he talked to the earth. A small reprieve from the chaos of the palace.

Eris was there, in his mind.

Petting his hounds grey coat as he whispered, just as he always did when the sun came over the horizon and woke for the day. Like he had since he was just a faeling sitting in his mothers lap as she did the same.

His mother had explained it so gently one morning, sat in the grass, about when the sun comes over the skyline to say good morning. Not to speak too loudly or too brash so that he didn’t startle the earth, because she too deserved kindness. The Mother.

So almost everyday for as long as he could remember, he sat in that meadow, lazing in the tall grasses as those vibrant hues of blue and orange and pink and yellow streaked across the sky— and he whispered to Her.

About his hopes and dreams that would never be fulfilled or sought after, talked of the life he wished to have. That he wished his own mother had. Asked for her days to be gentler, kinder, prayed on every wild dandelion he found, for someone to share his days with, to talk to— however boring.

And he had. He had his dogs, and he had the fields surrounded with the creeks that ran through their property, and he had the sky.

He wished he was there most of the time. So he created a place in his head, to escape in moments like this.

Acres of meadows, full of flowers and taller grass than he could dream of. Up to his hips, his bloodhounds disappearing beneath the blades as he strolled leisurely. Hands wading through the soft thicket. Sometimes he dreamed of others with him, his mother, Lucien, someone else.

Locked away that piece of himself to disappear into whenever being in his body became too much.

It’s where he had spent nearly fifty torturous years Under the Mountain, spending every waking moment protecting the female who had raised him for his father didn’t care to. Spending fifty years away from those grasslands and that beautiful savoy grandeur. His meadows.

Throwing stick after stick out into those pastures as he walked further and further, his best girl running every time he threw— chasing bunnies and jumping into the streams. Getting lost in his mind. When he knew it was morning, which was so very rare down in that dark and decrepit nightmare, he prayed. He prayed for some divine force to step in, for Her to save him and his family. To be kinder. The first time he cried and spoke his despair aloud, Feyre Archeron had come three days later.

Eris was deep in fern grasses as the blood dripped down his face, but he still did not move.

He hadn’t even taken his coat and finery off from Hewn City yet, having told his father he was coming from the lookout on the northern border. He didn’t bring attention to it.

He heard his fathers deep breath and the creaking of the chair behind his desk as he sat, maybe seeing reason now that the heady scent of his sons blood filled his study.

“You will go to Rhysand as soon as possible,” Beron started, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eris still didn’t look up, just blinked at the floor. “—do what you must. Find a way in, figure out what else those wretched girls took from us. I do not care if you kill or maim or whatever else takes your interest these days.”

His voice trailed off as if remembering something significant and Eris heard the wood groan again and then footsteps, his heart remaining steady despite the screaming that filled his head. Then he saw the polished toes of Beron’s shoes.

“You always were the smartest of my sons. So much like me, so brutal.”

Male pride laced those words. Eris wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream, and he did want to kill. He wanted to kill the man before him, wanted to kill the ruination that circled this court. That ripped its beauty from her chest, chewed it up, and spat it out.

But he did not move.

A hand gripped his chin, turning his face to the side and up. Eris let his eyes flick to his fathers face and saw the warning there.

“Where did you get this.” It wasn’t a question, Eris knew.

“I was playing with Saydee and tripped too close to a jagged rock, it cut me. It didn’t hurt.”

Beron released his chin if only to land a sharp slap on his other cheek and then immediately grabbed his face again. His grip burned, like molten ire, making the flesh of his cheeks dig into his teeth.

“Where did you get it.”

“I was practicing my swordsmanship with Brenton and he sliced me with his rapier, it was an accident. He got the proper punishment for hurting me.”

Beron released his son’s face and stepped back.

“Get out, don’t let your mother see you.”

Doubtless that the reason he wanted him gone was because he didn’t want his sons blood to drip onto those precious carpets.

Eris didn’t need to be told twice, so he walked. As calmly as he could until he got to his rooms, making sure to take the long way around and avoid where his mother was no doubt waiting by her own door to hear Eris’s footsteps walk by.

To know he was safe, or to know what his father did. Either way, he didn’t want her to see him like this.

Closing the door behind him, he finally loosed a breath, opening his eyes as he shucked off his jacket and draped it over the chaise by the hearth. Walking to his tray of decanters, lightly touching the blood on his face with one hand as he picked a bottle up in the other.

His scarred fingers came back crimson.

A slow boiling rage, like simmering sugar, filled his body. His muscles, gritting his teeth silently. Grip growing tight as he looked at that blood.

And then that was all he saw as the glass bottle shattered into the brick fireplace, sending the flames roaring and him stumbling back a few steps into the post of his bed.

He hadn’t noticed it was lit, vision glazed over.

He was breathing heavily, eyes wide as he watched the flames fulminate, casting an orange glow on his room and his face. So bright and wild he felt the heat from feet away as he watched the fire roar and gutter back down.

Eris thought that maybe he really wasn’t any better than the man that sired him at all.

Spring in Velaris was beautiful.

The mid-day sun warmed the air around the River House, a gentle breeze kissing Blair’s skin and ruffling through her curled hair.

She’d let her little sister braid it back this morning, a thin coronet that made a beautiful pleated flower on the back of her head. Though her loose bangs tickled her eyes, Blair thought she had looked rather pretty.

She wasn’t so outside of her body when she sat in the open air. And she felt… alright.

Though she would have preferred a fir to scale, as they allowed for easier climbing, but the willow she had found herself in made for a good view of Elain working in Feyre’s garden.

It was a welcome change from her window. Like there was no need to run away and hide in the forests of her mind, digging her own hands into the soul of the earth just to make sure her mind didn’t numb away.

She was almost laying down against the bark, the large trunk and spindling branches wide enough two people could have sat up here side by side. As uncomfortable as it may have been, the rough corking crust digging into wherever it touched through her pale yellow gown, it felt like home.

It’d been a week since Starfall at the House of Wind, almost a month since that all too brief introduction she had made to the world in Hewn City on Winter Solstice. Of Prythian’s world, at least.

Blair hadn’t expected anything for it, she had been there for a short half hour and had been… occupied the whole time.

Sometimes her skin still burned when she was alone. In the bath, when she stirred honey into her tea, late at night in the too cool sheets of her bed.

She’d felt her own since Hewn City, able to think and manage conversations, elating to Feyre and Elain and she quite enjoyed conversing with her little sisters now. But she still laid by the fire, night after night just to feel that warmth fill her.

But after that, after the surplus of gifts from their small gathering that followed, presents hadn’t stopped when the Solstice holiday ended— but they weren’t coming from her family.

Baskets and boards and chests and boxes were sent to Rhysand’s palace and then were brought to the House. Welcoming’s and courtiers from every place in Prythian it seemed, branching out to welcome her.

Well wishes, mostly. Some off-notes and letters, claiming that Blair Archeron’s beauty could be used to fix the rifts in this continent and between courts. That had been the most absurd one, a letter for Rhysand asking for her hand in marriage. He laughed as he read it to her, sitting by the window— knees tucked into her chest.

It angered her more than anything. That she was already a prize to be had, or that it was Rhys they were asking.

Slowly, as days passed and she spent more time outside breathing clear air, the anger grew. The realizations came in waves, of things she had missed, times where she should have spoke up and didn’t.

Resentment, frustration, shame, guilt.

She didn’t let it show, bottling it up and shoving it down. Killing the urges inside her to scream at everyone, to bellow and seeth and grow violent. Something so awake in her, gnashing and bloody teethed. The need to give into that voice in her head that told her to let it go.

That she needed to in order to go on, in order to have a sense of normalcy. That exploding was the only was to settle her bones. She felt particularly nasty towards Rhysand.

The betterment he had to achieve and grovel over, should grovel over, was stacked against the High Lord.

The anger was what took her the most, forcing her fingers to loosen the grip she had on her fork at dinner nightly as she listened to him ramble and laugh. Watched Feyre go on like she would not die having his child, closer and closer to being due.

She wanted to watch him bleed as her sister was going to.

Wanted to scream for all he had made Nesta do.

The entitlement.

But Blair buried it.

So she would glare to herself when he wasn’t looking, lip pulled back slightly and passed off as a twitch, before she took in what was sent as an attempt to woo her.

Blair had thought they were for Feyre in all honesty, before Cassian explained that it was bad luck. A few days ago when he walked with her along the Sidra— Elain had dragged her out and in return she made the Illyrian come with her— he had said it was a grim omen and wish of terrible luck to send an expecting mother gifts for a babe that hadn’t yet been born. To the fae at least.

She listened mindlessly. Noting the scent of her older sister that came from him in waves. She needed to talk to Nesta, and soon. A conversation was owed on both ends.

The thin parchment of the book she was reading scraped against the soft pads of Blair’s fingers as she leaned back against the large trunk of the willow.

Vines of cream wisteria flowing in the soft wind that sent the caps of her bell sleeves fluttering, watching Elain out of the corner of her eye as she dug her bare hands into the soil. Choosing not to use the enchanted gloves Lucien had gifted to her as she tended to the flower beds at the back of the house.

Despite the cool air surrounding Blair from the river flowing a few paces away, a warmth bloomed past her skin, not from the sun, but from something else, and her chest melted or sparked or roared as she saw a flash of deep auburn hair— walking towards where she was in the tree.

The second oldest Archeron’s brow furrowed so slightly. That scent— that heated mahogany and citrus, burning embers, floated to her on a soft wind and brushed through her hair in a soothing caress.

Eris’s hand skimmed along the brush of a white rose hedge as he strolled, his gait loose but strong. Blair kept her focus on the pages she was reading, but a sudden pounding in her heart had her unable to focus on any of the words.

She heard him approach, feet light and careless, she wouldn’t have heard it if she were still human. But with her new ears, the new senses she was still getting used to, she could.

The feet stopped, just under her, and Blair flipped the page. The thin and gauzy skirt of her dress draped and hung down the branch she lounged on, leg crossed over the other.

Eris cleared his throat then, and Blair could see his tall stature blurred in the peripheral of her vision. Hands tucked appropriately behind his back.

“I’m shocked Rhys let you come here, especially with my baby sister in her condition.” Blair said without lifting her head to look at him. Eris hid his smile by lowering his head. “Or should I be worried you’ve come to steal Nesta away? She’s not here, by the way.”

The words poured out of her mouth so quickly that Elain lifted her head in wonder, the same furrow as her older sister’s she’d seen play out in her face so many times. Rhys was standing with his arms crossed on the stone walkway when Elain looked to the back doors. Not pleased, but something willing.

“Now, smart, beautiful thing.” He tsked his tongue, amusement lacing every word. “I wanted to see you, and I told you that Nesta was not what I wanted anymore.”

Blair lifted her head at that, looking down at his wretchedly beautiful face and he smiled that wicked smile at her that spoke of pure sin. The level of her belief was in her eyes.

Whatever he offered that was big enough for Rhys to allow him to come to Velaris, she didn’t believe it would be just for her. Eris had given something to gain something— that’s what they all said of him.

“I told him I’d spoil our fun and tell my father of our plans or he could let me see you and I’d send a legion tomorrow for him to direct.” Eris added, as if reading her mind or face or body. She forced herself to keep looking at him.

“I could have met with you somewhere else.”

“Would you have? Left this place?” A raise of his brows.

Blair didn’t know, she didn’t know why she said it. Why her tongue just moved before she could think with him. Her eyes said as much and then a sudden, unknown, panic filled her and the life guttered so quickly from her eyes.

“It is safer here anyway.” Eris said lightly a few seconds later, followed by a quiet sigh.

There was a thin white gash along his cheek, almost healed, but it wasn’t there the last time she’d seen him. Blair remembered every inch of his face whether she wanted to or not. A face that followed her.

“No gift to try and sweep me into a marriage with you?” She said as gently as she could, face a bit flat.

“I thought I gave you one.” Eris smiled and at Blair’s squinted eyes, he continued. She closed her book and tossed it to the ground, narrowly missing him as it thudded to the ground. “Our dances, I did give you three I believe. Is that not the correct number in the mortal realm when a male is courting a female?”

The female blinked down at him, pausing as she swung her legs over the side of the branch, face drawing ever tighter and then she couldn’t control it.

It was the wording that sent her laughing she supposed. The sound rich and full of life, not empty and deserted or even strained, a song that skittered over Eris’s skin. Soft and silky as a fawn’s coat, gentle and easy as a gliding dove.

“I suppose,” Blair started, grunting slightly as she slid on her stomach— using the little strength she had in her arms to hold tight to the trunk she was dangling from. “—if we were in the mortal realm.” Blair panted slightly and Eris’s mouth formed a tight line as he watched the female struggling to climb back to the ground.

Her palms quickly formed indents from the grooves and bumps and ridges she clung to, nails digging into the wood.

“But,” Slipping slowly, trying to find a place for her dangling bare feet to land or stick to so she didn’t drop seven or eight feet right to the grass. The thin sleeves of her dress catching and snagging on sharp ribs in the bark. “—I so graciously have the rest of my immortal life ahead of me,”

“Would you…” Eris’s hands trail off as he watched, hands behind his back and head tilted.

“I have choices, to make—” Blair interrupted, toes splaying as she reached and reached for the next thing down but there was just nothing. “So I think it fair I take,” She huffed, hands slipping and sweating as she tried to grapple. “My,”

Eris raised an amused brow to her backside, arms crossing over his chest as he just watched. Her full body dangling there and then Blair yelped, right hand slipping and then she was falling with a gasp.

Eris was there a second later, large hands firmly gripping her waist as her knees bent over something. Scratching up her hands as she went, skin ripping on the rough bark and she grappled for anything. Body twisting.

It was Eris who caught her, who she tangled herself onto so she wouldn’t slam against the ground. Panting, heart beating, arms around his neck before she looked at him.

Blue, rust-flecked eyes met amber ones.

“Time.” She whispered, staring at his face. He’d caught her. She couldn’t tell if it was her pulse she could feel inside her hand, or his, as it held to the junction between his neck and shoulder. His eyes flicked down.

“Yellow was a choice, my dear Blair.” She scrambled from his arms, dropping another foot before touching the ground as she stood on her own again.

“I like yellow.” She spoke quietly, brushing her hands along her dress and halting when it streaked the fabric with a dirty red. Looking up at him with a breath, she crossed her arms instead.

“Beautiful as a rare star, then.”

Blair rolled her eyes.

“What is it you want, Eris?”

The male nearly fell to his knees at the look in her eyes, the sound of his name on her tongue for the first time.

Out loud, that is. He’d rewatched her beautiful lips play with it in his head for the past month, over and over. Kept it for himself, for when he was alone or bored or…

Eris feigned a pout.

“No polite courtier? I just saved you, my fair damsel.” He said, face serious until he smiled again and Blair started walking back towards the house. Rhys mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk as he watched.

“I do not need saving, the worst that would have happened was a few scratches or a bruise. I would have lived.” Even if she didn’t particularly care to. She didn’t say that out loud, though. But the despair seeped into something, she didn’t care enough to stop and think about the feeling.

“Mm,” He hummed, following behind her. “I suppose so.” He wanted to grab her, to touch and feel her beneath the flesh of his hands just because. Something inside his chest dragging him along behind her, he was not himself.

Blair just kept walking, right up the stones and the marble stairs off the back of the house, feet padding to the doors. Eris stopped at the steps where Rhys made him halt.

“Don’t let them hold you.” Eris called and she looked over her shoulder just briefly before flinging the doors open and disappearing inside the house that was warded off. Eris couldn’t follow after her if he wanted to.

“You saw her. For whatever reason you needed, she clearly did not have an interest in the same.” Rhys sighed, stepping in front of Elain subconsciously as Eris stood there— still looking into the House. “Now leave my city before I kill you, you know not to speak of this place to anyone.”

Eris was still staring after her when he disappeared in a rush of wind and warm light.

Elain looked back at the tree where her sister and the male had come through moments ago, only to find a particular trail of higher grass where Blair had walked and suddenly grown dandelions were blooming.

From the slam of the back door seconds later and the vacant yard that Elain was now left alone in, nobody else had noticed.

🏷️: @prythianpages @readychilledwine @impossibelle @anuttellaa @aelincaddel @umgatochamadopercyval @mirandasidefics

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra x oc #eris vandaddy #pro eris vanserra #blair archeron #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #elain archeron #rhysand #cassian #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #lord of bloodshed #autumn court #night court #Prythian #a court of silver flames #acosf

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joannasteez · 3 months

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"im with you" - installment two

featured characters: mother's milk & female reader. warnings: alcohol usage (misuse) and angst. MM being his supportive, caring self. mutual pining? (kinda) authors note: this second installment has been sitting in my drafts since the release of season three, so over a year maybe? i don't see myself progressing the story (sorry?) but i was tired of seeing this in the drafts. so i give it to you all who wish to read it!

You hate 'The Reserve', not just for its sordid means of molding into fruition false delusions of grandeur, but because it is also a reflection. A mirror, smudged and stained, bitter callousness webbing sharply from the heart of it, mangling its way to the furthest reaches, but a mirror all the same. And when the sun wanes low into the horizon, that bombastic need for liquid comfort livening up the bar, in the solace of yourself you say 'I am not like these people; degenerate drunks and reckless hedonist, bleeding the poison of a heartless raging machine who thinks them too low to even consider their existence. I am not like the super-abled, I am better'. The hatred is beautiful enough in those times, consistent enough that it waters the dust and forms thought into palpable word. Then where is this mantra now? As the weeks grow colder, air nipping sporadic bites into the skin, lethargy soothing something still and lukewarm into your veins.

Grief is loud, 'where is your mantra now?', and your need for comfort is as bombastic as theres.

On this unsteady line of desire, here must be where the attraction falls short for him. Clips its wings, falling from on high.

'He sees you', the brandy says, auburn and taunting. 'He pity's you'.

All those years ago when the ache was new, splitting raw and lethal at your chest, you're almost sure it was pity that drew him in, that made him linger. It had to be, or that's what the sluggish, drunken part of you thinks, the part that takes comfort in dark hard spirits and makes you believe all the untrue shit that stains the foreverness of wayward esteem and memory. But sipping from the bottle is good, it's easy, feeling like a drizzle of fresh rain on the skin. The burn goes dull after while, when the sky bleeds something angry and orange, leaving just the smooth glide down the path of your throat, and when your eyes shut to escape the welling of tears, you hear that everlasting crunch of metal.

It's a hard piercing, that cringing screech and scratch of metal etching into itself, the friction tearing into flesh and bone, and just mere seconds remain before the face that shares your own fades into something distant and lifeless.

Twins, a true phenomenon, and yet as you stare into the bottle, it all feels false and unnatural, like retribution. Something beautiful and different, worth no more to the state than a cover up story and a check for $75,000.

She was worth more. She deserved more, true justice, and yet here you are wasting away, your stomach a pool of brandy.

Like clockwork your phone vibrates. 'Here comes the pity', you think.

--How you holdin' up?

His wonder is a grey text bubble, nothing more than routine and after several years still its consistent. Maybe that's why desire has etched into your skin so, a slow gradual drag into nerve, entangled to the pulse of your veins, because at least some semblance of him cares. Even if it is all just obligation, when others stopped their award wining performances of sympathy, he'd still roll around in the early cool of October asking 'Are you holding up?', and 'How are you doing?'

The tears and liquor screw your senses well, fingers slipping over some of the right keys and missing others. It takes a while to gather thought, and even then it's driven by lies and poor motor skills.

--Mi fi.

--Im fie.

--Fire*.

--Fuk Im fine*.

--Fuck*.

The disappointment is palpable, heavy on the tongue and an uncomfortable warmth to the skin. You know it, can picture the way those brows of his pull together, mouth screwed and on the verge of disgusted. Well fuck him, if he thinks you care, he isn't the one in pain, drowning in perpetual heartbreak. Saturated to the bone with it really and its ripping at you slow and dreadful, a vicious tear of tissue and vessel. And God-- but...but doesn't he know? No, no, no he has to, he's suffered similar... but it's not the same... but it is, you stress to yourself, it has to be... but it isn't, and the tears taste more salty as they come. An aged bitterness that makes you wince.

--... are you drunk?

You keep him suspended, seconds, minutes even.

--No

--A but,, Im ok.

--A bit but Im ok*.

He's quick to reply.

--Where are you?

He waits, with a staling patience just at the top floor of the flatiron building, where the city bustles and groans, exhausted and restless. In just a few measly minutes, still nerve goes erratic with impatience and then comes the hammering of his pulse.

You're drunk and alone, drowning in the memory of shitty circumstance. His chest aches in that familiarity-- Harlem and a blazing summer sun, the hard blow of barely cool air, a child's excitement and then the coming in of doom, Soldier Boy, and then the swooshing in and fatal crunch of metal-- the ache a vicious sting. Growing nails make slight indents in his skin, fingers coming into his palm, to ball and harden, to feel and never to forget.

He was lonely then, just a wild vengeance to keep him company.

Marvin moves before he can think, leaves, turns the key in his ignition and joins the hard rush of the city before resolution melts loose and hesitant.

Your Brooklyn apartment is old, as old as the house he loved destroyed by the hurling in of a benz, and as he breathes, alleviating the hard brick of tension in his shoulders, he understands why he's here. Why-- in the most inconveniencing of times-- he thinks about you. Why desire, a fervent stream in his blood, has become more ungovernable by the day. You are new but familiar. Soft and alluring but recognizable to the bone, a reflection of pain and survival that wholly scares him and excites him just the same.

When the door opens, it's the petulant embrace that catches him first, the bottle of brandy nestled in your palm, but the smell curls about the air bitter and heavy, unsullied by shame. Even in the most dismal affair, your eyes are blood-shot, daring him to go beyond whatever is shy and lingering, a plead to make the pain go away. To call out the itching twitch in his skin by name and validate its presence.

"What?", you start, feeling his eyes. The stony weight. "You're not gonna wish me happy birthday?"

"You're a mess".

You'd waited for this, hoped for it even, to have the burn and the break of desire collapse against you. For it to scorch flesh and that unrelenting part of the heart that says 'yes, i want him, need him', but it never comes. There is no fracture, even when he tears you open with concerned eyes, just the unreconcilable truth that if you are a mess, royally fucked up and drunk out of your mind, that you do not want to be. Not when or where he can see. Because there is no middle, no point at which allure and brokenness meet in a charming enough compromise... right? So this must be judgement then, 'you're a mess', the knocking in of the gavel.

The quiver to your lip is fragile. You are fragile. "If you're here to judge, you can fuck off".

The lone tear you give makes his heart squeeze. Maybe he shouldn't have led so strong, so exacting.

He brushes in anyways, like a piece of him belongs here and steals the bottle from your fingers. Palms growing idle now, fearful, balling and releasing, grasping at air --like your whole being-- grasping at everything, anything and gaining nothing. Nothing but the soreness of muscle once bent about glass fighting for strength, for the will to straighten. All there is, is the leaning in of silence, as he cracks the windows for a fresh breeze, a hard press that leaves you scorching and loose with a raw bare boned awareness. The mantle of your belly churning and awakened with a sullen impatience to hear his words, the charge of his thoughts.

Wont he do it now?

"Just say it already", knotting pain in your throat leaving your urgency dry. Brittle. "Whatever straight laced bullshit speech you got about effective coping, and-and-and pain... and whatever the fuck". The new air is chilling, makes the grate of your voice wane and shiver. "Just say it".

He's next to you, sinking into the couch, and it's the closest he's ever been. "What's the point of preachin' shit you don't practice".

"Drinking isn't effective coping but tearing through the city, through the damn country, offing supes left and right with Butcher is?"

You were both wrong, but so terribly right. The through-line of your lives, just narrowly escaping death, broken already but always seeming still to be on the precipice of breaking.

For some time there's nothing, no word or deed, and then, there's everything. A delirious unearthing, barbarous and desperate. 'Look at me, understand me, please', fragile, on the borders of begging. "I never meant to drink so much, it-it just happened I-", your tongue goes lax and dry from temporary thoughtlessness or the swimming and draining of liquor in your veins, you aren't sure. "I don't even like the taste but June she... she made it a thing. Our thing".

You look to him, and see through the blur of your vision, the forming together of intent and attention. No crease of pity, just tenderness and patience, without blame. Just understanding.

And then it's here, nostalgia, a wistful coming together again of memory. "My father liked to have his taste every now and then y'know... a little sip just to feel some shit I guess", you start. A finger pulling at and curling into another. "So he'd hide little bottles of brandy around the house. A stash here, stash there, but he'd always end up forgetting. He had shitty memory that way... still does", the knot in your throat grew, forming a choking sensation. "But June would find them and re-stash them, so when our birthday came around we'd sip and get shitfaced together".

You can feel the build, a hard rushing in, the levee soon to break. "We both hated the taste, but we were doing stupid shit together and thats all that mattered".

She comes clearly in your minds eye, a replica yet different. Glassy eyes dazzled by the soft burning away of innocence. The liquor is strong on her tongue, makes her touch something tight to the skin, a holding on to that bites but comforts all the same, and the air is pungent. Rife with rebellion. In the shared bedroom of an old family owned Brooklyn Brownstone, the world opens, teems founded and un-conforming with the blazing of this single moment. Oh sister, my sister. She was your mirror, your opposite. Everything. "She was just here my whole life and now she's gone. What thing am I supposed to have that I can touch, that-that-that I can feel other than this, other than our thing".

Something in Marvin wonders, if he reaches out, forms you with his hands, will you take him in or stretch away? Will you break? Shatter into a fragmented loathing because he is not her. And there is the curt twitching in his finger, he feigns for the answer.

"You never told me that".

You laugh, mirthless and ironic. "I never told anybody because I feel like a fucking joke. I speech those kids to death almost every damn day, about being present and making room, growing in grief and look at me." Your head feels full and heavy, a sharp pounding meeting just at the forefront of your skull. "I didn't even have the fight to do anything about it. They took her away from me and I just let that shit fade. I let her go Marvin, me".

He pulls at your chin softly to face him, smearing away a lonely rolling tear. From here, just inches away, everything about him is tender and warm. But if you lean further into him, will he pull you in?, or will the comfort of his touch fall away?

It travels instead, holding firm at your shoulders. His eyes settling light and easy.

"You wanna go all Rambo with the shit, and find out what happened, I'm with you 100%, but what happened to June isn't on you, its not".

The brandy on your tongue wears old, the solace of it going stale.

'I'm with you'

His embrace is a furnace, a delicate purging. A new opening of the world.

"Thank you Marvin".

#the boys #the boys amazon #the boys season 3 #the boys imagine #mother’s milk #mother’s milk x reader #mm #mm x reader #marvin milk x reader #marvin milk #the boys fanfiction #the povs change from second to third because i suck and this is tumblr so whatever #mothers milk #mothers milk the boys #female reader #reader insert #joannasteez

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keis-slut · 22 days

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PINES TWINS HEADCANONS

in honor of their birthday (8/31), some headcanons of 25 year old dipper and mabel!

also bc i binge watched the show again-

includes what they’re up to, relations, interests, stuff they do in their free time, etc.

+ short 5 song playlist of their taste at the end

(will be songs from recent years since it’s now, as in this second, of their interests. i’d be happy to do a full playlist if requested!)

DIPPER

-stayed in touch with stan and ford all these years, he’s very close to them. they’re still around but much older and calmer

-so, yes, he’s covered in tats. yk that fanart we allllll have seen? yea they pretty much look like that, some weird ones, he rlly likes patchwork style tattoos

-probably has one on his chest or stomach/lower pelvis tbh, he’s a quirky dude

-mabel probably dared him to do something like that because she thought he’d chicken out from the pain but he did it

-him and mabel have matching tattoos that was dippers idea, dipper has a pine tree on his ankle and mabel has the shooting star on hers

-his pain tolerance is definitely pretty high given all the stuff he’s been through

-he decided to grow his hair a bit longer because he likes it that way. he enjoys being able to put it into a messy half up lil bun

-as for shaving his face, he likes to be clean. as much as he was excited about chest hair or whatever, once there started to be more hair coming in, he got tired of it and started keeping clean. maybe some stubble on his face once in a while if he’s lazy

-he has rosacea he mistakenly took for acne when he was growing into his teens, so he just naturally has a reddened face, probably from all the stress. aside from it being a medical condition, it’s rather cute

-he’s also in the sun a lot in california, so that’s what caused that and his darkening freckles.

-he’s good with his skin though, he likes to just keep himself clean, that’s it.

-he also wears chapstick, but only the cherry flavor from the chapstick brand.

-likes jewelry so he wears a bunch of different necklaces and bracelets and rings. he changes his necklace like every week, it’s always some kinda rock in wire or dog tag. also pierced his ears so he wears small studs or smthn

-ahem he has his tongue pierced ahem

-wears a lot of plain clothes or band t-shirts. he’s got like a weird grunge/hippie mix to his style, like converse and band tshirts with like a bandanna and all his jewelry

-still wears hats, he likes beanies too

-he consumes a lot of media, he loves cartoons but will watch the occasional greys anatomy episode

-he loves video games, such a nintendo sucker like mario, sonic, zelda, smash

-his fav series is the legend of zelda im not biased shut up

-he also got into anime more, this happened a bit after he left the summer of 2012. you can blame soos for recommending he tries it out, and he did

-i feel like his favorites would be like soul eater, jujutsu kaisen, or death note

-cat person cat person cat person

-owns like 3 cats

-orange tabby he named corduroy, grey tabby named tyrone (calls him ty), and a black one he named august, for him and his sisters birth month.

-she helped him decide the name, they got him together so technically it’s both of their cat but mabel still has waddles (and a guinea pig but this isn’t mabels headcannons)

-he decided against going to college but instead has his own interactive websites for people interested in the weird and crazy supernatural, this all started from a blog he created himself about the weird things he’s researched.

-he’s thought about studying computer science, or becoming a teacher for philosophy or even psychology, something like that, but he now thinks college will get in the way of his personal research, so he finds things off of that

-he does a lot of his own research on these things anyway because he’s still interested in it

-for an actual job to make a steady income he’s been working at an amazon warehouse for a couple of years

-dabbled in smoking weed but it’s not for him, he’s too paranoid

-he has a lot of friends but most of them are online

-you thought the awkwardness was just part of the preteens phase, well it wasn’t

-he’s still pretty awkward but i guess some girls find that more attractive as you get older and not gross

-also i think dipper is straight, but he’s still pretty flamboyant.

-he’s definitely tested the theory of him being not straight though, that’s all imma say

-he’s better at talking to girls, especially now that he knows what he really wants to do and who he is, the confidence in himself was the key

-sometimes he’s shy, but doesn’t have a problem smiling or saying hi or complimenting someone

-he’s had a couple of relationships, done a handful of things and tried stuff out, but he still hasn’t found the one

-he’s the kinda guy that needs to find someone who’s ok with him being very private and independent sometimes, and he finds that hard

-as much as he can be distant, he still wants a long term partner eventually

-he also does know he has a lot of his own issues to figure out to do that, because he knows he can get distant, and so he has traumas to work out and he’s aware of that

-at heart, he is very much so a lover boy though

-his top love language from the 5 would be acts of service. he may get distant and stuff but he still thinks about you a lot and what you need or what you’re doing, like bringing you soup or tissues when you’re sick, switching your clean clothes to the dryer, simple stuff like picking up after you if you forget, or even teaching you new things he’s learned about because he likes to share that

-in order of the 1-5 from most to least, acts of service, gift giving, quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch.

-just because it’s the last doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it, he just shows the others more.

-he’s perfectly fine with cuddling and kissing all day in bed on a lazy rainy day, all gloomy outside during a thunderstorm and you both are cozy in bed, nice and warm form body heat and in and out of sleep.

-he needs this very often he’s so stressed

-wears knee high socks to bed tho oops

-he’s doesn’t like wearing a shirt to bed that much though, but he does wear the socks

-always with shorts or boxers tho, he doesn’t like the feeling of pants over long socks, or pants under the covers anyway. not a fan of layers

-as much as he’s very into technology and being lazy or whatever, he does like to go outside a lot and hike, or casual walks

-he enjoys the feel of nature, and more so during the summer. summer is his favorite season for nostalgia reasons

-drives a subaru crosstrek. and he liked the camo green, ok?

-covered in magnets and stickers

-wants to get a motorcycle

-now that he drives, him and mabel make frequent trips to gravity falls whenever they can to see everyone, they all still stay in contact, and love seeing the twins.

—pinetrees pods

stick season - noah kahan

birds of a feather - billie eilish

baby i’m home - odetari

snakelike - whatsaheart

crush - ethel cain

MABEL

-also stayed in touch with stan and ford like dipper, they’re both close with them (stan and mabel are closer but they all love each other equally)

-i feel like she also would have tattoos but they’re kinda smaller and more floral and colorful, not huge and overbearing though

-not to be sad, but waddles doesn’t have much time left and so she got a little tattoo of a cute pig on her hip for memory of him

-she chose her right hip because that’s his favorite spot to snuggle on her when they sleep together or cuddle, he was always on that side

-she definitely kept like a girly hippie and y2k kinda style as she got older

-she keeps her hair long and always natural, she never really likes to blow it out or straighten it, but she loves doing different styles like braids or space buns, but usually just naturally down and wavy.

-likes hair clips and scrunchies, especially the ones with the cute designs and colors on it. like the hair clips that look like wings and have dangling jewels

-she did however have a little phase where she wanted to dye some of it, she did the front strands of her hair hot pink and purple before

-she really likes doing her makeup, all kinds of styles and colors. she’ll try eyeliner, face paint, glitter, lipstick colors, bright eyeshadows, everything

-she doesn’t overdo it, but always has some kind of color in her face, like a natural face but some blue or purple eyeshadow, something cool.

-has a small stud on her nose, but a lot more piercings on her ears.

-she never wanted anything crazy but she thinks more holes to put cute earrings in was a good idea

-she also enjoys tv, she loves movies more though. she likes cartoons but more enjoys shows like friends, or reality tv shows like the masked singer or love island

-she also enjoys video games, mostly because dipper introduced her to alot, zelda she likes because of him and she got into animal crossing too

-NEEDED pietro on her island or else she wouldn’t play.

-she bought her own switch because of this

-it has pink remotes and lots of stickers, obviously

-she also has a pc, she likes playing minecraft with candy and grenda. she isn’t very good at it tho so she plays with cheats LOL

-social media obsessed, she posts everything, especially on tiktok and instagram. she likes sharing, sharing is caring.

-her user would probably be like “sh00t1ngst4r31” or smthn from like 2016 pinterest username ideas but she doesn’t care too change it, she still thinks it’s cute

-pothead, it makes her feel funny and fuzzy and happy and stupid and…oh i’m hungry.

-so yea, she also has a guinea pig and she named her star, after her own alias as shooting star

-she likes to draw and she actually makes money off her art, like selling designs or stickers on redbubble, but also makes art of characters from games and stuff, or pretty nature designs

-shes in college for theatre and film, she would love to make movies or shows some day. she’s also interested in acting and singing a lot too

-there is a boy she likes in her class but she’s nervous to talk to him, after the whole boy crazy teen phase, she’s calmed down but become more nervous to talk to boys if she likes them, otherwise she’s extremely social.

-mabel isn’t straight guys. never was and never will be. she finds its much easier to talk to girls if it’s a crush.

-GOES TO DRAG SHOWS!

-she’s friends w all the queens, she gets behind the scenes of them changing and choosing their songs and outfits and their theme for sets !!!!

-she’s like adhd central, but yes she’s on medication for it.

-i also think she has a personality disorder of some sort, like bpd

-she has a tough time keeping relationships because of how wild and moody she can be as a person, it can get confusing and it’s hard, but her optimistic trait keeps this lovely girl going, she’s doing ok don’t worry.

-DRIVES A MODDED JEEP WRANGLER ITS PURPLE AND COVERED IN DUCKS

-also likes anime, she’s an ouran high school host club girly, but also the occasional demon slayer fan

-she loves my hero academia be fr

-she’s in love with ochaco

-wears big asf t-shirts to bed, panties and socks. it’s cozy

-collects stuffed animals, she loves emptying her wallet at arcades and only playing for stuffies. it’s not all for nothing though, she’s pretty good at what she does.

-big collector and still scrapbooks.

-she has shelves of manga and figures, also books of drawings and memories, and other random collectibles

-really likes sanrio

-she is in school and does have her own online business, but she does also dog sit and dog walk on the side

-i feel like she loves to cook and bake, she likes to try new things all the time

-she enjoys traveling too, she’s been to the east coast in the states like new york, vermont, and down to virginia and north carolina too

-also out of the country, she’s been to japan, and paris a couple times. she HAD to take a picture that made it look like she was holding a tiny eiffel tower before she dies cmon

-she loves fall, definitely a pumpkin spice girl

-prefers dunkin over starbucks, but will get the occasional cake pop from starbucks

-she’s still taller than dipper lol, i’d say she’s like 5’6 while he’s an inch shorter

-she wears glasses now, but prefers contacts. she only wears her glasses like at home or doing casual stuff if she doesn’t feel like putting her contacts in but for the most part she wears the contacts

-she loves taking trips with dipper back to gravity falls, she’s especially excited to see wendy again now that they can really relate more with girl things since mabel’s old enough to understand a lot more

-they take mabel’s jeep when driving to gravity falls, but switch out driving here and there.

-passenger gets aux, it’s their rule

—shooting stars symphony

girl, so confusing - charlie xcx

i love hollywood! - slayyyter

l’amour de ma vie, extended - billie eilish

ancient dreams in a modern land - marina

joyride - kesha

#writers on tumblr #wattpad #writer stuff #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #gravity falls #pine twins #pines twins #dipper pines #stanford pines #mabel pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #wendy corduroy #soos ramirez

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wonijin · 1 year

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HOTSHOT (R U NEXT/READER)

survival shows are hard as it is. why must you make it more complicated for yourself and entangle intense feelings with vulnerable emotions. but it wasn't your fault, they fell prey to you one by one, all by themselves. maybe you weren't the fool in this mess after all.

TAGS: 3.3k words. series. chapter one. mostly fluff and angst with a little spiciness. reader is very gay and get girls left and right. "everybody falls for y/n" type of fic. reader is also a walking red flag.

WARNINGS: the setting is a survival show so its bound to have kinda depressing themes.

“when will we have female idols as special coaches. i’ll be so motivated if somebody like newjeans minji coaches me,” you voiced as you plop down at the staircase.

the trainees assume their places at the foot of the staircase forming three rows. it was only a matter of time until you get called one by one to come through the orange curtain and pick; vocal or dance.

you sit between jiwoo and jeemin. the latter intertwining your arms, as she lights the room up with her smile. both of them looking at you as you confess your wishful thoughts.

“why would you want someone pretty when you already have me,” jiwoo asks, sending her sharp gaze to you. she raise an eyebrow and you look away, swallowing your saliva.

these kinds of comments from her were nothing new. you should’ve been used to it by now but you find yourself loss for words each time. she’s always been the type to blurt out these kind of comments without thinking of the implication. maybe she does and she just fakes innocence to not deal with the consequences.

before you could rack your malfunctioning brain for a verbal reply, jeemin saved you the trouble and changed the topic. “what will you guys pick? i’m leaning towards dance.”

“you’ll do great in dance. for me, i’m gonna be safe and pick vocal,” jiwoo answered. “what about you?” she added, looping her arms around yours. the sudden proximity would’ve been fine any other time but her remark earlier kept you on your toes.

“me? i don’t really have much of a choice, you know,” you say, pointing to your grey badge with a huge silver “L”. low levels don’t get to choose, they only get the higher level trainees’ leftovers. cruel but you were confident in your abilities to stay afloat whichever category landed at your feet.

“you’re so dramatic. there’s only two options, im sure you’ll get to choose,” jiwoo reassures you after giggling at your antics.

“choose dance so we can be on the same team,” jeemin clutch your arms tighter and starts to shake it lightly as if it would persuade you.

“or i could end up competing against you. no, thank you,” you pull your away from her grasp only to reconnect your hands together.

jeemin pouts in return and your stomach clench looking at her. somewhere deep inside you had the urge to kiss it away. which you find weird because why would you want to kiss your friend. yes, she’s cute. but why would you want to do that. friends don’t do that.

before you get swallowed by your thoughts you hear jeemin’s name get called. it was time for her to choose. she gave your hand one last squeeze before bidding both you and jiwoo good lucks and good byes.

“choose vocals,” jiwoo whispers next to you after a few seconds.

jiwoo is always the type to be assertive but never aggressive. she’ll always be commanding but leave just enough room for you to pull away if you want to. but you don’t think you ever will. you like that side of her. and its son jiwoo, only fools dare to refuse her.

“i don’t know, maybe,” you whisper back playfully, keeping your head faced forward while you still feel jiwoo’s gaze on the side of your head.

jiwoo scooches closer and nudges her head onto your shoulder. to the untrained eye, it must’ve looked like jiwoo’s just clinging onto you. well, its technically right but something in you screams that its not just simple ‘clinginess’. “come on. wouldn’t you like to be teams with me? it’ll be fun.”

you would’ve answered. although, you didn’t know what but you would’ve blurted out. but before you could open your mouth, jiwoo’s name echoed throughout the lobby. saved by the bell, again.

“well, i’ll see you on the same team,” she flashes a smile before walking away.

waiting patiently for your turn, you chat idly with the other trainees to pass the time.

you pull the orange curtain back to reveal the girls in lines. jeemin’s eyes caught yours and give her a smile. the girl in front of her, jihyun, noticed the interaction and waved. you mimicked before walking toward the board containing different stickers. two for dance and vocal each. one of the two vocal badges was for a leader position.

you look behind you to see who’re the other leaders. almost immediately, your scanning gaze locked onto jiwoo’s, as if she was waiting for you to turn around just so she can meet your eyes.

the eye contact lasted for a split second before you turned around and grab the vocal position. the normal one, without the leader position.

jiwoo stands in front with yunah and jeongeun next to her. on her farthest left is yewon, another leader.

you stand in a line together with the other trainees who chose the same category as you, waiting for your name to get called by either of the two. beside you is wonhee and seoyeon. suddenly, anxiousness plagues your insides as you realize you’d be either in the same team as them or end up competing against them.

“so, jiwoo its your turn to pick next. who will it be?”

your eyes avoided jiwoo. you were afraid that desperation would be seen as plain as day on your face and holding eye contact with her would solidify that.

so you turn your attention to the person in front of you. which happened to be minju. her face morphs into confusion at your sudden focus in her. you only smile and minju furrows her eyes in turn. the action only made your smile wider, ‘how cute’.

“y/n.”

jiwoo’s voice broke both you and minju out of your trance. and it took you a second to understand that jiwoo wants you on her team. you look back at jiwoo to meet her unreadable face, her gaze going from minju to you.

“you looked worried there for a second,” yunah teases you as soon as you joined her and jeongeun, putting her arm around your shoulder comfortably.

“as if we’d pass up the chance to be with you,” she adds as she pinches your cheeks with her free hand.

“although, it looked to me you wanted to be with minju more” jeongeun added, joining in and putting her arms around you as well. while her other arm punches your stomach lightly.

“shut up,” you say, laughing at their teasing.

it has been a few days since practice started and your group has been going through some hiccups. well, its mostly yunah.

“yunah, you can tell me whats wrong. im here for you,” jiwoo’s words were nothing but soft and comforting. you were about to reach your friend when jiwoo’s eyes flicker to yours. ‘i’ll handle this.’

jeongeun and wonhee had already moved out to their own corner to continue practicing. you refused to leave yunah alone but jiwoo’s hard stare says all you need to know.

let the leader do her thing.

so, you distance yourself from the pair and roam your eyes around the practice room to look for something to do. you could use the time to practice, yes. but you’re sure that you would bury yourself six feet under the ground if you hear the song one more time.

the empty water dispenser gleamed at your search, the perfect opportunity to do something different. you walked towards it, detached the empty gallon and put it over your shoulder.

you left the practice room, heading to the cafeteria where they store the refills.

that is when hyewon saw your silhoutte from outside their practice room and called out your name. “y/n! what are you doing?”

“im getting refills,” you enter their practice room with ease, “bang!” blaring through the speakers yet nobody was really practicing. they were all doing their own thing, scattered across the vast room.

“great timing!” hyewon exclaims as she walks towards their own water dispenser. just like the one in your practice room, it was empty of any water.

“here! fill ours too,” she smiles at you brightly, her eyes twinkling in mischief. suddenly, her soft hands grips yours, the thin veil of sweat clinging on to you. she opens your palms and put the neck of the gallon there.

“what? no! you fill it up! its yours!” you exclaims as you take her hands and forcefully shove the gallon back in her grasps.

“come on. do me a little favor, won’t y-”

a cough intervenes hyewon’s pleading and forceful words. you turn around to see youngseo, who’s already boring her fiery eyes through your soul. then, her eyes travels to you and hyewon’s intertwined hands.

just like opposite magnets, both of you retreated your hands quickly causing the gallon to fall into the floor with a thud. you and hyewon both wince at the sound but youngseo however did not flinch.

instead, her gaze remained hot towards you. “i’ll be coming with you,” she says softly with her underlying firmness. her voice was always like that, sweet and subtly strong.

how you missed it. when was the last time she addressed you directly again?

“you don’t have to, i’ll be fine alone,” you convince her. it has been a long time since you both spoke to each other. truthfully, you weren’t ready to face her yet. its been too long and you have forgotten what being around her is like.

“no. i want to,” her firmness surfaced through her small voice. you decide that its really not up for debate. when youngseo has made up her mind, it’ll be hard to break her resolve. what youngseo wants, youngseo gets.

maybe remembering the feelibg of her company isn’t bad at all.

you watch as she picks up the gallon from the floor and head towards the door, you follow her until you were both walking in the hallway, side by side.

youngseo didn’t talk. as much as you wanted for her to say something, you knew she wouldn’t open her mouth unless it was to reply to something you said. or so you thought.

“how’s practice coming along?” her question puts an end to your thoughts. if you weren’t surprised by her accompanying you before, you were now that she was actually speaking to you.

“we’re…” you paused, thinking of the right words. choosing the right words carefully, you didn’t want to come across as overconfident. “we’re moving along, i guess”

you see her nod lightly in you peripheral vision. your eyes find the floor. there was so much you both needed to talk about. yet you were talking about practice.

“im happy you chose the vocal team. the world needs to hear your voice more,” youngseo’s voice flew like water against the air, natural and unwavering.

you snapped your head towards her and she turn hers just in time to catch the surprise look in yours, like she knew you were going to look at her.

it was the first time you’ve actually held eye contact after a long time. you drink in the familiarity you’ve lost and among it are a thousand words you can’t decipher. something flicker in her face before she breaks the stare.

“yeah, i just feel like i’ve been branding myself too much to dance lately,” you say, knowing it would end the conversation. a test to see if youngseo will surprise you again and start a new one.

but she didn’t. and the whole walk continued in awkward silence. so many unsaid words hanging in the air, the burden getting heavier each step closer to her practice room.

‘look, how about we just forget everything and start over?’

'we both know it won't work'

the past looms over both of you like dark shadows and you both know it. yet, youngseo did make any move to open the skeleton in your shared closet.

'let's talk, youngseo. you can’t keep ignoring me forever’

‘im sorry, i just need more time’

she’s ignoring it so why shouldn’t you. if someone’s going to peel the scab, it wouldn’t be you. you already did your part. a long time ago.

'i need space.'

‘you already got your space, youngseo. what about me? it's been months. if you've found peace then let me find mine!'

before you knew it, the door to her practice room is in sight. a part of you felt relieved to finally be free from her presence, while another part was longing to be with her a little longer.

youngseo stands beside it, holding the doorknob with one hand. she smiles at you sweetly. then waves at you lightly, “i’ll see you soon! good luck on your practice!”

the thoughts come pouring in as the door shuts in front of you. she was gone like she had never been there. you would’ve wondered if the last few moments were real if it weren’t for her voice replaying vividly on your mind. just like a melody you can’t get enough of.

just like that, you find yourself getting stuck in her web. again.

the following days went by quickly. but youngseo never once left your mind. you know you shouldn’t think much of her actions, youngseo’s too unpredictable.

after everything, why now?

“are you even paying attention?” jeemin’s whines mixed with the song blasting through the speakers.

it was late into the night and you decided to stay back with the tall girl to help polish her moves. you thought her moves were perfect the first time she showed it to you. and by the nth time, your mind can’t help but drift.

jeemin couldn’t believe it when you agreed after all the stage is coming up soon, there’s no time to loiter around. but she didn't have to know that you can never refuse her.

“are you okay? we can go home if you’re tired.” jeemin’s offer sounded sweet, she’s as nice as ever. but you witness the fire burning in her eyes, begging for her passion to translate into her performance. you knew it will never be extinguished completely, she was born to be a performer. so you let it burn you a little more.

“im fine, don’t worry about me and carry on,” you gesture for her to continue. and she restarts the song all over again. this time, you poured her all of your attention.

it was a wonder how your mind sailed before when jeemin is tight in front of you. her performance was impeccable as ever, the hard work and talent prominent in every sway and stroke.

“you’re off to space again,” jeemin narrows her eyes down at you playfully. her raspy voice was a blessing and her smile was godsend. an angel looks down at you.

“i wasn’t this time! i swear! i was just mesmerized.” your hands flew up in defense as you stand up to join her in front of the mirror.

“stop lying!” she smacks your arm lightly, her laugh gracing the whole room. you were glad nobody else was in the room, it made the privilege of making her laugh sweeter.

“fine then. if you were actually paying attention, at least give me some feedback.” your heart leaped at the sight of her crossing her arms.

“you were perfect!” jeemin let out a big sigh. as much as jeemin likes being praised, she needs actual feedback. something she can work with for these next few days leading to the stage.

“give me something more specific,” jeemin rolls her eyes lightly. but even then her cheeks stay up and her smile never faltered.

“well,” you think for a bit. “i liked how you start of the song. it really set the mood for the song.”

in front of you, jeemin’s pink turn a bright shade of pink.

“i think you also killed the omona part. you’re naturally cute so plus points for that. and then this move,” you didn’t know the name of the move so you demonstrate it to her.

jeemin bursts out laughing at your attempt. your awkward movements reflecting wholly through the mirror and you follow after jeemin, throwing your head back. “stop laughing, im not that bad.”

but jeemin continued giggling and so did you. the joyful sounds filling the entire space and drowning the faint sounds of the speakers.

you calm down after a few seconds but one look from each other sent you both into another spiral again. soon, both of you were lying on the floor, clutching your stomachs.

“ah- my stomach hurts from laughing so much.” jeemin blurts out between breaths and gasps.

“who said we’re done yet? you just made fun of my dancing.” you hands flew to her sides before she can fully comprehend what you said. another round of laughter echoes throughout the room as you tickle jeemin mercilessly.

somehow, she managed to get free from your grasp and now a tall baby is chasing you around the practice room.

jeemin catches your arm and pulled you to her, lightly but it was enough for your bodies to collide. she uses the momentum to turn your back to the wall, effectively locking you.

“got you,” she smiles brightly at you, a thousand watts on her lips.

the laughter comes to a gradual halt as silence blankets the both of you. her grin turns into a soft smile and her eyes felt endearing against yours. you couldn’t look at her in anything but adoration.

you anticipated it would happen. in fact, you hoped for it. but it still caught you by surprise when her lips press against yours. soft and gentle just like everything about her.

you wanted to press harder, for it to last longer. but you were already living in a dream and a second longer would be asking for too much.

jeemin pulls away in haste. you would’ve dived in for one more if you hadn't seen the panic flashing across her features. she blinks once, twice until the haze in her eyes clears.

she remained stiff for a moment. she looks up at you and the look of regret she gives you haunt you even after weeks.

“im sorry, i shouldn’t have,” she whispers, pupils still blown wide.

reassurance was a the tip of your tongue but you held back. but what were you going to say? that its fine and to just forget it ever happened?

immediately your mind reverts back to youngseo for a split second. it didn’t turn out well when you said that to her so what good would it do to say it to jeemin?

jeemin looks at your face, trying to make sense of your incomprehensible expression just to take a peak at your thoughts.

but each moment felt eternity to jeemin. and trepidation sets in her veins deeper and deeper until it roots and sprouts into anxiety. all while you weren’t aware of the consequences your silence had brought to her.

“jeemin-”

before you can finish, she was already out of door. from the practice room, you hear the echo of her dashing footsteps. as it died down, you were left wondering if you just let history repeat itself.

another friendship broken in the name of fleeting romance. but will this time be worth it?

#r u next?#r u next? imagines #r u next? x reader #jeemin x reader #yunah x reader #youngseo x reader #jiwoo x reader #bang jeemin #noh yunah #lee youngseo #son jiwoo #yunah imagines #youngseo imagines #jeemin imagines #jiwoo imagines

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thedoover-if · 1 year

Note

THE EX ROUTE IS GOING TO KILL ME, WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO US😭😭

IM SORRY😭 to be fair id never forgive cheating but in games i usually always let it slide so i really wanted to have a ro where it feels very vulnerable to not only move on but also allow oneself to fall in love AGAIN... i think itll be a very interesting dynamic to explore (and i love drama LOL love when authors rip my heart to shreds and then stomp on the pieces too)

fyi youll be able to be hesitant, fearful or whatever OR you can cheat with them, not caring for their current partner and be like rory from gilmore girls where she's like "dean was mine first" (iykyk!!!!)

added a little snippet of a potential scene ive got planned with MC on 'the ex' ro route. call it a little taster LOL (under the cut)

(fyi its from the pov of an MC who still involuntarily feels something for the ex)

“don’t do that,” you spit, gaze slowly travelling down your ex-spouse’s frame. they’re seated on the opposite side of the living room, on the same exact sofa they used to occupy – be it during game nights, movie nights, or simply weekends spent quietly enjoying each other’s company. it felt like the perfect fit. they were the unique key to your lock. the gentle notes on your sometimes out of pitch days… until the music abruptly came to a halt, never to be played again. and ever since that day, three years ago, your life has been muted – dulled even. “do what?” they tilt their face up, and for a moment you’re transferred back in time. but you snap yourself out of it just as quickly; you refuse to go down that path again. although you’re stood a few metres away, you’re able to make out a shapely outline – it's you – on the otherwise empty page of the sketchbook propped on their lap. “you’re drawing me – I don’t want you to draw me.” “why can’t I? you look beautiful.” the stupidly crooked smile creeping upon their features is like a stab to the heart, and those last three words shove the knife straight through your body. just like that, your lungs implode – you’re in too deep. a tsunami of emotions rips open every old wound you nurtured close so carefully over the past months. the hours spent in therapy, flushed down the drain by a sweet compliment. soured by the wrong person. “because that’s what you did when you were with them. when I see you doing this, it makes me think about every night you lied.” your throat grows tight, your vision blurs, and yet you continue, “every night you spent with [redacted] while I was right here… waiting.” for seemingly the first time, you notice sun rays peeking through your beige curtains. it’s almost like the sun has sensed the devastation ongoing in the pit of your stomach, and so with each passing second of your skin soaking up the warm orange beams, the grey clouds inside your head clear more and more. it takes one large breath to relax the tightness of your vocal cords, before you’re able to force a sound out. “you really hurt me [redacted]…” as soon as a look of regret takes over [redacted]’s otherwise painfully gorgeous face, a small flame of hope lights up in your body – one you didn’t grant permission. it’s soothing… and familiar, yet you starve that spark and let it die. “you drawing me like that – it hurts because you know I’ll like it… and that’s not fair, [redacted]” you whisper, before standing tall, a surge of determination coursing through your veins, “I’m not going to let you do this to me again.”

#inbox <3 #ro: the ex spouse #snippet

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nightmaree-eyess · 1 year

Text

Orange is the last of us pt 2

Tlou fic based on oitnb

Summary: after abby got released from prison your resentment builds

Tags: prison au, femme reader, y/n, angst

Word count: 1702

Pt 1:

Divider @cafekitsune

Weeks and weeks go by and the letters keep coming in from abby. You can't bring yourself to read them. Maybe you do hold grudges after all. When you look at the envelopes all you can think is she got to walk free and you're still stuck in this piece of shit with stale air that lingers and agony oozing from the walls. It's not fair but that's life. You wouldn't wish her to come back to the personification of hell though. You wouldn't wish prison on your worst enemy. A part of you wants to read the letters she sends though. Gross curiosity about how she's doing. They taunt you.

“y/n mails here” a guard hands you an envelope and it's another letter from abby. This time instead of shoving it in the endless pile in your cabinet you bring it to the cafeteria at dinner to ask Ellie about it. They have history too and maybe she'll give you some advice.

***************

“If i can guess what the letter says it probably says *speaking in deep voice* hey babe miss you now lemme eat your pussy” ellie makes a v with her fingers and brings it to her mouth to make a crude gesture

“I’m fucking serious ellie. I don't know what to do. I want to know if shes ok but i also dont give a fuck.” you groan

“Well which feeling is stronger? Your love or your resentment?”

And with that question you knew what you had to do

****************

Later that night you end up reading the letter she sent. You take a deep breath to settle your nerves. Your hands are shaking as you take the letter out from the envelope.

Dear y/n,

You probably aren't opening these or if you are, i'm sure you don't really want to hear what i have to say. I doubt if th tables were turned that i would be reading this, but on the off chance that you are still reading, i want to try and explain myself which is difficult in a letter and would be so much easier face to face (even though im terrified that theyll lock me up if i step foot in there) i know that the situation in chicago seems fucked, but i promise i was protecting you.

There was a lot going on that I wasn't able to talk to you about and if I had had even a moment alone with you before the trial, I swear I would have been completely open and honest.

The last thing I want after everything we have been through is for you to feel lied to, or used in any way y/n, i promise.

I love you,

Abby xoxo

You sit there with your mouth agape.She wants to meet in person? What else can she even say? The next morning you ask your counsellor to add Abby to your visitors list. You wanna hear what she has to say. But you also miss having her in the same room as you. You miss sneaking touches under the table and kisses at night. You even miss your mundane conversations. She has a way of making you soft.

Couple days later you call Abby to arrange a Sunday for her to come up and see you. You're nervous but also excited to see her again.

****************

That sunday you walk into the visitation room and there she is, sitting at the middle table and she catches your eye. You see a sparkle that wasn't there before and you're happy for her as much as you don't want to be. You give her a quick hug (which got you yelled at) and you sit across from her. Shes wearing that grey sweater that makes her muscles look so fucking good. It's your favorite sweater she owns.

“This is totally weird but, i'm in the wrong outfit”

“I like your sweater.” you reach out to touch her buff arms to just feel that she's real

“Its soft…like your resolve when you're offered a plea deal” you snided

“It came down at the very last minute, y/n. Abby sighed “And they promised me it would put Kubo away for good.”

“But it made me a perjurer and you a free woman.”

“I thought you were gonna tell the truth!” abby yelled

“And I thought you were gonna lie!” you yelled back

“What are we in a fucking novel or something?” Abby said this made you both chuckle.

“It's good to see your face”

You shake your head “I don't know what to say.”

“You have every right to be angry.” abby sits back in her chair and crosses her arms

“I don't know if I'm angry. I'm confused…by you.”

Abby chuckles “I'm confused by me, too. I'm pretty much the master of handling things completely wrong.”

“Well that's an understatement” you say flatly

“Im a fuck-up. And now i get to be a fuck-up in a shithole apartment in Queens. Too afraid to even open my curtains.” abby looks around the room and whispers

“I sleep with a gun.”

“You what?! Abby , what the hell? You're on probation.”

“There is a van parked outside my apartment everyday. He's trying to scare me. I wanna go out there with a baseball bat and smash the fucking windows in.” abby looks scared and defeated

“I should honestly start dealing again”

You look at her in disbelief

“Find a bigger, tougher new kingpin who can beat up my old kingpin”

“That's not funny” you say worryingly

“It's not a joke. What am I qualified to do? Huh? I have…I have no job. I'm scared shitless to leave my apartment. I got so used to sleeping with the lights on that I'm freaked out by the dark. My probation officer, Robert Hill, is a fucking joke. Bobby fucking Hill is my probation officer.” you guys both laugh

“King of the hill?”

“King of sitting on his fat fucking ass eating Little Debbies, hoping to bust me for some stupid infraction.” abby sighs and looks down at the table

“You'd think that part of his job would be to protect his probbies, you know?...Nobody gives a shit about ex-cons.” abby said defeated

“What are you gonna do?”

Abby sighs and presses her lips together “i'm skipping town”

“You can't”

“I don't have a choice. These people know where I live. That's why I wanted to see you. When I go, I can't come back. I have to disappear.”

You feel a sting hit the back of your eyes and everything sounds muffled.

“You- you can't leave me.” you say desperately

“y/n, i'm in danger i have no choice”

“But i dont have anyone left…”

We stare at each other, wishing it didn't have to be this way.

“I'm sorry y/n. I'm sorry for all of it. I know my track record id shit…but I really do love you.”

“Yeah well, I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

You look down at the table to hide your tears ``no… no i don't.”

“Visiting hours are over!” a guard yells and when you get up to leave you look at her one last time because you might never be able to again.

***************

For the rest of the day you worry for abby. She can't be serious right? Skipping town is not the best idea but is it the only way to keep her away from Kubo and his minions? You have an idea to keep Abby from danger but it involves calling your ex fiance who slept with your best friend. He could have slept with anyone but he chose your best friend. Asshole. But he owes you at least this favor to make up for it. You would've said you were even and let it go if he didnt sleep with your best friend.

“Hey y/n” Barry picks up the phone

“Hey are you alone right now?”

“No im with holly and you're on speaker phone” holly says hi

“Ugh great, I need a favour.”

“Depends on what it is”

“I need you to call abby's parole officer and tell him shes breaking her parole”

“Why would I do that?”

“I giving you a chance to fuck over someone you hate.”

There's silence on the other end

“Fine if you won't do it holly will you?”

“Sure whats the name of her parole officer”

“Robert Hill. He works for the DOC in Queens.”

You hang up the phone cause you really dont wanna be talking to them longer than you have to. At least the plan is in motion. It might seem a little selfish and you feel a tinge of guilt but with this plan at least you know she'll be safe. You can't let her skip town, start dealing again, or have Kubo find her. So you decide to be selfish. You wish it didn't come down to this. No one deserves to be in this cease pool, especially abby. You'll be taking this to your grave.

****************

You're working outside today setting up for a mothers day event and the sunshine feels good on your face. The closest to freedom you have.

“Your little girlfriend is back” ellie says to me teasing

“Wha- what do you mean?”

“Yeah I saw her walking to her bunk from the intake. She looks beat up”

“I-I gotta go see her!” you start to walk away

“Inmate, get back here! You can't leave during work!” a guard yells and I slowly walk back with my hands up in surrender.

“You'll see her around. It's not like she's going anywhere.” ellie said

*************

After work you go back to your bunk and see that the bed is finally occupied. Could this be Abby's stuff? That has to be a coincidence right? Many girls get processed through here everyday. What are the odds this is her stuff?

“We gotta stop meeting like this” a voice behind you says.

It's Abby. Fucking. Anderson.

#abby x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson fanfic #abby tlou #abby x y/n #abby x fem!reader #prison au #fanfic #orange is the new black au #fanfiction #abby fanfiction #tlou fic #abby the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #angst #part 2

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wildtornado-o · 1 year

Text

Something neat I noticed about the Character designs in Miraculous, specifically with the Agrestes/Graham de Vanilys and people closely associated with them is how the colour schemes are.

Under a cut bcs its a lot.

The Agrestes all have predominately white outfits, Gabriel having hints of red, and Emilie and Adrien having small amounts of black.

Meanwhile the Graham de Vanilys have mostly black outfits, with some grey in Félixs case.

I thought this was interesting because the white clothes make the Agrestes look more pure, and innocent, while the black clothes of the Graham de Vanilys makes them come off as the reverse, more "evil" side. When in reality its the opposite, the Agrestes have the darker side to them.

Now when we look at the characters designs separately from one another with that context it becomes even more interesting to me, to see how each colour on each design stands out.

Starting with Gabriel because hes the most outsidery of the family. He is mostly white and red, with hints of grey. The red could be seen as him being separate from Emilie and the Graham de Vanily lineage. While the white is Emilies colour. The silver could be seen as representing how hes mixed with the Graham de Vanilys as well through marriage, just weakly.

Next is Adrien, who has the most outside colours on his person. He has the white outer jack, which coul be seen as his appearance being "The son of the Agrestes" and just as a face and not a person. I think its interesting that his shoes are orange, which is red mixed with yellow, another colour on his pallette which represents the outside influences on his life, like Gabriels red. And then his t shirt is black, like Amelie and Félix's colour scheme, suggesting that underneath the white hes more attached (that is NOT the right word but i cant think of anything else) to them (more similar to them?) Idk but Amelie is going to be his mother soon ;) (Looks at that shot of her and Nathalie) (Theres also the fact that as Chat Noir the only white on him is his teeth, breaking away completely from his family burdens)

Last for these 3 is Emilie, shes mostly white with accents of black, which I see as symbolism of her breaking away from her parents by marrying Gabriel. But the black accents show that she still has some attatchment to them through her relationship with Amelie.

Then theres Amelie, whos entire outfit is black, showing that she never got rid of the Graham de Vanily name or reltionship to her parents.

And then Félix, whos black and grey, showing his closeness to his mother through the black, but also his care for Adrien, whos "white" so it mixes.

Now for "Outsiders"

Starting with Nathalie. Her outfit is mostly black, suggesting her later lack of loyalty to Gabriel, and closeness with Adrien. The red accents show that she was most likely brought into the family by him, those being evidence of his influence.

Then Placidies, whos mostly grey with the smallest amounts of black and white in his hair, showing how hes been with both families (Im pretty sure he was the "knight" Colt gave away)

Then theres Marinette, whos grey, white and pink. White showing her closeness to Adrien, pink showing the influence Gabriel's fashion has had on her, and grey showing her as an outsider, with influences into the Agreste drama

And last is Kagami, who on her outside layer has a white jacket, showing how she dated Adrien at first but felt he wasn't right for her. The black underneathe shows her relationship to Félix instead, a more "real" relationhip, hidden by the white outside appearance forced upon her by her mother through the arranged relationship. The red suggests her relationship to Gabriel, who is close to her mother, who also has a lot of red on her.

#Is this me pulling at absolutely nothing? probably #but i thought it seemed neat anyways #been thinking abt this for a while but im still not 100% on Nathalie or Kagami lol #i had more coherant thoughts on Marinette but i forgor #Miraculous Ladybug #Gabriel Agreste #Emilie Agreste #Adrien Agreste #Amelie Graham de Vanily #Felix Graham de Vanily #nathalie sancoeur #Placides I.T #the gorilla mlb #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Kagami Tsurugi #birds-chirps #bird is pulling at straws and making stuff up probably

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sweetnxthngs · 2 months

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[ may calamawy, non-binary, they/she] — whoa! IMAAN EL-SALEM just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TEN YEARS, working as a/an OWNER OF BROWNSTONE BOOKS that can’t be easy, especially at only 38 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit SHY and FANCIFUL , but i know them to be WARMHEARTED and ARTICULATE. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to QUEENS! —character parallels: rory gilmore, monica gellar, lexie grey.

wanted connections • pinterest

BASICS

FULL NAME: Imaan El-Salem

NICKNAME(S): none, doesn't love nicknames.

AGE: 38

DATE OF BIRTH: February 14th, 1986

CURRENT LOCATION: Queens, New York City.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Bahrain

ETHNICITY: Egyptian, Palestinian.

GENDER: Non-binary

PRONOUNS: they/she

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

RELIGION: Raised Muslim, does not follow organized religion perfectly by any means, but does believe in God and has faith.

LANGUAGES: arabic, english.

OCCUPATION: owner of brownstone books.

FACECLAIM: May Calamawy

PHYSICAL TRAITS

HEIGHT: 5’7

WEIGHT: 115 lbs

HAIR COLOR: Brown

EYE COLOR: Brown

PIERCINGS: one lobe piercing in each ear, and an industrial piercing in the right ear.

TATTOOS: here

SCARS|MARKS: freckles across her nose and cheeks,

SIGNATURE SCENT: Maison Margiela Replica Springtime in the Park.

PHOBIAS AND DISEASES

MENTAL ILLNESSES: social anxiety.

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES:

PHOBIAS:

RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER: Nashwa El-Salem ( Badawi) (deceased)

FATHER: Omar El-Salem

CHILDREN: none

SIBLINGS: Laila El-Salem (younger half-sister)

RELATIONSHIPS: coming soon

PETS: a black cat lovingly named sush, short for sushi.

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC SIGN: Aquarius.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good.

FAVORITE FOODS: sushi, watermelon, mint and feta salad, garlic noodles with chili crunch, mutabal, french fries drenched in ketchup and mayo, shakshouka.

FAVORITE COLOR: lavender and pink

LIKES: the smell of the air just after it rains, and the color of the sky and it's orange-pink hue then, too, when svu or criminal minds marathons are on, the feeling of having a crush. romance books.

DISLIKES: anything above 70 degrees Fahrenheit, washing the dishes by hand,

HOBBIES: as of recently, ballet classes just to get some movement in and they like the fluidness of it, reading fanfiction when they should be working, baking their feelings away, and self-defense classes.

BIOGRAPHY

tw death, tw religion, tw childbirth.

PAST.

BAHRAIN, February 1986.

It's February, but it's the Middle East in the 80s, so the weather is likened to the decade. Nashwa is in a hospital and still, sweating profusely. She's unsure if it's the weather or the pressures of childbirth. She is freshly married, and this is her first baby, when a screaming little girl comes out, Imaan, is placed into her arms she cries along with her. She barely gets to hold her though before the beeping of a machine rings in her ears and before she can even meet her daughter, to know her, Nashwa El-Salem is pronounced dead, complications in birth.

Omar, her father, has no idea what to do with a newborn daughter, and with his job, he doesn't really have the time to raise her alone, that's when originally, her jadda stepped in, helping raise the young child until she was of school age, and then, there was pressure for her father to remarry, to find someone to run the home while he worked. By the time young Imaan is seven, Omar is remarried, and expecting another child.

Their stepmother isn't from here, the States, actually, here as an expat, working for the embassy, and their little sister Laila looks more like her than their father. Imaan is barely eight but she knows that things have shifted.

They go back and forth from Bahrain to Washington often enough, two homes, and to Imaan, it feels like two families. Her father and herself, and then him and his wife and Laila. There is a passing comment about how she can't let go of a mother she never knew, and as Imaan gets older, they know that's true.

by the time Imaan is seventeen, laila is 10, and they are fully moved to Washington, leaving Bahrain, and everything Imaan has ever really known behind. They finish their last year of school in the States, and it is so different Imaan feels out of place, and alone. She tries to fit in, and tries to be the perfect daughter at the same time, but those two don't align. Raised strict Muslim, Imaan is used to a set of rules, and the western high school system is mostly not set up for them, especially in 2005. Her connection to her home and her faith gets lost somewhere along the way, more fights with her father about his expectations, about his wife and his other daughter, about how she will never be good enough. He calls her disrespectful and a disappointment, and she tells him she applied for college in Scotland far away from him, and the look on his face tells her she's gone too far, but the plans have already been set in motion.

The University of Edinburgh is a dream and an awakening. Imaan is still shy, an introvert one would say, but also more willing to explore who they are. Kissing a girl for the first time is like a rebirth, trying cigarettes, alcohol, and even drugs feel like things that make her stray from the staunch religious upbringing she had, and yet, the lack of restraints feels good.

By the time she graduates with a degree in English, she knows she is different, and she's not sure how much her family will like that.

She moves back home for a while and works in a library as an assistant, and the freedom college abroad brought her dwindles, it's back to dad's rules. her sister is just sixteen, and while they were never close, their relationship is not bad, but Imaan finds there isn't much they have in common. Her sister likes concerts, has a large circle of friends, and spends her time trying new makeup techniques, and that's all fine, except Imaan can't relate to it, as someone who finds their enjoyment in reading the newest romance boo release, or

She moves around a bit after two years at home, does two years in California, and two more in Chicago before moving with their roommate to New York. It's closer to home but totally different all the same, and it actually feels right. Unlike all the other cities. They get a job in a bookstore and share a two-bedroom with their roommate in Queens and life is okay, though not perfect.

PRESENT

Imaan brought Brownstone Books off the owner, who they worked for 8 years before she decided it was time to retire, and with a very small loan and the kindness of someone who took them in, they owned the place. It felt daunting, but the bookstore's popularity helped make the transition easier.

In those ten years since moving to New York, Imaan found that what was missing in her life was some sort of faith, and found a way to embrace spirituality and their sense of self, a sometimes uneven, but more comfortable balance. They got cat and name it sush, and they still live in a two-bedroom, though their roommate moved out recently to live with her boyfriend, so they're on the hunt. They love to bake, spending the time not in the bookstore either doing that or reading (books, or fanfiction, thank you). They don't see their family often, though her sister is 31 now, and has visited a few times.

wanted connections found here.

#(those windermere peaks look like the perfect place to cry || imaan.)#boroughs.intro #tw death #tw childbirth #tw religion mention #i cant shut up this is so long winded im sorry

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