#can you believe i painted this first. and then i just slapped basic shapes on the painting. which is a normal thing to do

[sonorousangels]

i think they deserve the world🌼

[yearning-for-autumn]

Azriel NSFW Alphabet

A/N: Literally no one asked for this, also I may have gone a bit overboard so like if anyone who knows me sees this no you didn't.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Azriel is king of the princess treatment. Whilst he is rough in bed, he is gentle and sweet with you once it’s all over, he’ll run his hands softly down your body whispering how well you did, how good you were for him. Then he’ll scoop you up and run you both a bath, getting in with you to wash your hair and hold you.

Butterfly kisses….enough said.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Azriel is an ass guy, he likes boobs but he will always admire a shapely bum. He loves to grab it, slap it, rub soothing circles on it as he fucks you. He loves to have you bounce up and down on his cock facing away from him as well so he can watch it jiggle. To a lesser extent, he loves your neck as well, he loves to leave hickies to stake his claim…possessive Illyrians…

His favourite body part of his own is probably his wings. He’s a bit smug about the fact he has the biggest wingspan of his brothers, and on a sadder note he is just thankful he can use them, that he learnt to fly and the freedom they represent for him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man cums heavy. Like…it’s going to be dripping from you. He loves coming over your arse, watching those stripes of white paint your red backside.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Azriel doesn’t really like to admit, but he is pretty touch starved. He doesn’t allow many people to touch his wings but the first time you did he came almost immediately. It took a little while for him to build up some stamina with you in that area. 

On a dirtier note…Azriel has a bit of a fantasy of fucking you in the same room as Cassian and Nesta. He loves how feisty Nesta is, knowing she’s a bit of a brat for Cassian. He wants to show off how much of a good girl you are for him, make Cassian Jealous that he can do absolutely anything to you and you’ll thank him for it. He also wants to see you fuck Nesta…whilst he fucks Cass. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Azriel is very experienced. He has had a lot of lovers over the years but he is not very experienced in having a long term relationship. That being said, he has taken subs before and is very confident in his abilities to practise BDSM safely and sanely. He takes your comfort very seriously and has experience with many different wants and needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Honestly any, but he loves sitting up with you in his lap, either bouncing you up and down on his cock, or having your back pressed against his chest as he cradles you and rubs your clit until you cum. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be if he thinks you’re really nervous but mostly he’s in the zone. When he fucks you, he does it right, and he’s concentrating on your pleasure…(or punishment).

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps things neat down there but he’s not completely hairless. He doesn’t have a preference on whether you choose to shave or not.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Azriel can turn on the romance if need be, but his expertise lies in being a dom, he’s not not romantic…but he’s definitely not sweet and gentle with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Azriel masturbates quite frequently. He’s got a high sex drive and so when you’re away or he’s on a mission he won’t think twice before taking himself in his hand. He’s also a fan of masturbating together, and loves pumping his thick cock to the sight of you rubbing your clit, head thrown back in self made ecstasy. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

DDLG - I’m a firm believer in daddy!az, he loves to spoil you, he’s not a brat tamer but you’re such a good girl for him that he doesn’t have to be. 

Breeding - I think this is an Illyrian trait that he’s a little ashamed of. He loves pumping you full of cum, and pushing it back in. It gets him all hot and bothered to whisper in your ear how hot he thinks you would look full with his child.

Spanking - This male just can’t leave your ass alone…if your butt is out it’s getting slapped. He loves taking you over his knee, panties on at first then spanking you hard until you soak through the fabric.

Dom/Sub - I think he can switch, and does enjoy subbing occasionally, but mostly likes to see your submission to him. He likes the quiet submission, doing up your shoes, cooking you dinner because you’re just his little girl and need him to help you. He also likes to have you kneel at his side whilst he works, head resting on his knee.

This might be a bit out of pocket but I also think he has a teeny bit of a piss kink, but he keeps this to himself unless you are very adventurous. Look SJM said he was a freak alright but everyones afraid to make him really freaky…..

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s quite a private male so nowhere you’re likely to get caught. He can be swayed…but it’s at your own risk.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly anything turns him on. You could walk past him and he would grab you by the hips, pull you to his chest and ask if you want to play. What really turns him on though is when you initiate. When you crawl into his lap, all shy like, bat your eyelashes and ask him…daddy, can we play? Cauldron, he’ll be hard before you’ve finished asking.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Azriel isn’t into hurting you too much. He finds scratching, blood play, and anything unnecessarily rough too far and he won’t do it unless you eased him into it. His hard no is fire, anything to do with it, candles and wax play…he won’t go there at all. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Look, the man is a giver and is good at it, but god does he love a blowjob. Give Azriel a blow job. He wants it. He’d reward you so good for it. He’s gonna cradle your head and stroke your hair while you do it. Please.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If it’s a special occasion he might take his time with you, fuck you all romantic, turn on the romance so to speak. But he really prefers to set the pace quite quick, it gets him off better and it probably gets you off better too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh yeah. He’s ready to go at any moment. And he’s got a busy job. Rhys asks him to do things on pretty short notice sometimes and he’s not leaving without a quick fuck. But he won’t do anything particularly kinky unless he’s got time for aftercare, he’s discussed what he wants from it, and has your input on everything involved. Your quickies are more like quick vanilla sex, you love it though, any Azriel is good for you. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Azriel would not be the kinky male he is if he wasn’t down to experiment. If you have something new for him to try he’s absolutely game, just don’t spring it on him before he’s going away or he’ll be a grumpy boy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Mm Azriel will last long, but if you touch his wings…man’s going to come prematurely and be sulky about it for the rest of the night. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes. Azriel has floggers, paddles, ropes, vibrators, (bunny ears and a bunny tail buttplug….). He loves to dress you up. And he’s not shy about using toys to enhance your pleasure. He draws the line at making a mould of his own penis though..and you have asked.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s a massive tease. He’s a condescending, teasing, smug asshole. But if you are desperate enough he will grant you relief. He will also listen seriously if you tell him you’re not in the mood for teasing. He only wants to tease if he knows you’re into it. This is why safewords exist guys. Also, and I can’t stress this enough, I firmly believe he would only tease in the bedroom, he’s not one of these guys that wants to see you mad and gets a kick out of it, I find that kind of man repulsive lowkey.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Let. Azriel. Be. Loud. In. Bed. Quiet in the streets, loud in the sheets baby. But anyway yeah he moans a lot, talks a lot, wants you to know how much you turn him on. And he wants you to be the same. He’s not happy until you’re screaming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Azriel pretends to be cocky about his body but he’s actually a bit embarrassed about getting fully naked around people. This goes away quite quickly when you start worshipping it with your mouth though–

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big boy…massive boy…he’s girthy and he’s long and Rhys and Cassian can only look and weep.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. He wants you all the time, everyday. The mating frenzy was exhausting, I hope your pussy survived.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Look he’s a male, orgasms make him sleepy, but he won’t sleep until you’re tucked up beside him and comfortable. Mans not happy until his baby’s happy.

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

What The Tide Brings

for @petrificustotaluss ❤ this was not an official ask, but i loved the idea too much not to write it!

Keeping the lighthouse is a family tradition. Before Eskel, it was Vesemir and after him, if Geralt is still capable, he will take over. If not, it will be Lambert and so on until no one is left to tend to it. But Eskel is new here, he's only been around a couple of months and he's still adjusting. It's not the solitude that bothers him, not really, and he loves the location right on the ocean, but there's something that just feels off and he can't quite place it.

He starts his mornings the same way every day, with breakfast and tea, then sets himself to his chores. In the afternoons, he reads and paints and in the evenings he lights a fire in the hearth and watches out for incoming ships. But the island is a lonely one and there isn't much traffic, so he rarely has much to report in his log. The days progress in much the same way, changing only in the content in his books and paintings and what he eats for supper and then one day while he's heading down to the beach to fish, he finds…. something.

He climbs down the rocky ledge to the beach to closer inspect it. It's just above the tide line so even if the tide came in high, it would remain untouched. Eskel crouches down next to it and it's actually an amalgamation of bits of stone and shell and coral and while from a distance it's just a pile, it's actually quite beautiful up close. No one lives nearby so Eskel is certain it cannot belong to anyone and he doesn't feel any guilt about picking it up and taking it home with him.

He takes it inside and sets it on the mantle where he can look at it when he reads. The following morning, there is another.

This one is simpler but unmistakably handmade and Eskel would call it windchimes under other circumstances. There is a cross of driftwood at the top with small, beautiful stones and bits of softened sea glass tied on rope. When he picks it up it blows lightly in the wind and for something so simple, it makes a remarkably beautiful sound. He takes it back to the lighthouse and hangs it outside the front door.

The gifts keep coming, each one more beautiful than the next and there's no denying any longer that someone is leaving them there intentionally. But no one lives within a hundred miles and Eskel would know if there were ships passing through, so he can't figure out who is leaving the gifts.

He resolves to find out.

Vesemir taught him to brew teas to keep him awake and alert long into the night if need be. And this is not a situation where he needs to be awake, but no one needs to know but him. So he brews his tea and fills out his log and in the early hours of the morning, he slips down to the beach to wait.

For a little while, there is nothing and then, just before dawn, just before Eskel would regularly wake, the surface of the ocean ripples and something breaks the surface. Eskel watches as a head appears from beneath the waves, shiny blonde hair flat against the skull and then blue eyes, so bright he can see them even in the early morning light. He holds his breath as the man slips above the surface, strong arms and a strong chest now fully visible. And then the man freezes.

Eskel doesn't move for fear of startling him, but he holds his gaze, soft and unwavering until the man turns abruptly and dives back below, a thick silver-blue tail slapping the water as he goes. And then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he's gone and Eskel is left stunned and alone.

He's heard the tales of merfolk, of course, every ship's captain and lighthouse keeper has, but he never believed in them until now. Because his visitor was certainly not human. From the chest up he had seemed so, but no human man bears a scaled tail and no human is that shockingly beautiful.

Eskel sits in the sand for some time thinking about it as the sun rises and the day begins around him. He starts his routine late that day and as he goes through the motions, he can't seem to shake the image of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He's reminded of the fields of buttercups where he grew up and absently starts referring to the creature as Jaskier.

He spends the entire morning thinking about him and by lunchtime, he's made up his mind to leave a gift of his own. He wants to show that he doesn't mean any harm, that whatever Jaskier is doing around here, he's welcome to stay and that Eskel appreciates the gifts he's been leaving. But he can't exactly leave a painting and he doesn't know what else a merperson might want or need, so he thinks on it as he eats and comes up with the idea to carve something for him.

It's been a long time since he's done any whittling, but he's sure he'll still be able to pull something off. He looks around his untidy kitchen and living area and reluctantly ignores them for the time being, heading upstairs to dig out his knife.

Eskel spends far longer than he should trying to find a piece of wood that's acceptable for carving and then even longer trying to decide what to carve.

At first, he considers a whale, but then thinking about it, he doesn't know if that might offend a merperson. What is their relationship with the other creatures around them? He doesn't know. So he thinks about something else he might recognize. Coral, perhaps? A shell?

Eventually, he settles on a ship. It came before the idea for a lighthouse, but he thought that might be presumptuous and had returned back to the ship idea.

He gets to work, carving out the basic shape with practiced draws and shortly he's left with something that already resembles a ship. He carves out the shape of the bow, and the deck then makes a quick decision to add sails and a little rope coming off the side for the anchor. When it's done he smiles down at it. It's not his best work, by far, but it's been years since he's done anything like this and he's out of practice. But it's finished before he has to turn in, which is what he wanted because he wants to wake up early tomorrow to deliver to Jaskier himself if he can.

So he tucks the knife back into his pocket and carries the boat back up to the lighthouse. He sets it on a table and goes about the rest of his evening, tucking into bed early so he can wake up early.

When dawn rolls around, Eskel is exhausted, but he manages to wake up and he hurries down to the beach with his little boat. He sets it down in the sand where he'd found the other gifts and backs away in case Jaskier sees him and gets nervous again. He doesn't want to startle him.

And just like yesterday, after a few moments, he rises out of the surf only this time he doesn't turn back. This time he sees the boat and comes closer, pulling himself up out of the water and picking the boat up in his hand. He turns it over, inspecting it, raking clawed fingers gently along the side. After a moment, evidently unaware of Eskel sitting close by, he curls his tail up under himself and sits and looks at the boat. His eyes are wide with interest and a small smile spreads across his lips as he turns the boat around in his hands once more.

Eskel holds his breath, afraid to even move lest he startle Jaskier. He watches him carefully but lets himself look this time. Jaskier really is beautiful. His hair shines in the early morning sun and when he shifts, his tail seems almost to shimmer.

Abruptly, Jaskier looks up and spots Eskel and for a moment, neither of them moves, but then Jaskier cocks his head and shifts. Eskel thinks he's about to slide back into the water and he can only hope he takes the boat with him, but he doesn't. Instead, Jaskier slides closer to the bottom of the ledge and holds the boat up to him.

"Did you make this?" he asks and Eskel is a little startled to hear his voice. It's as beautiful as the rest of him, but he hadn't expected him to speak in the common tongue. He nods, unsure of what else to say. "It's lovely," Jaskier smiles.

"'S for you."

"For me?"

"You left such beautiful things," Eskel shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, "I thought I could give something back in return."

"Oh." Jaskier looks down at the carving.

"Is that... okay?" Eskel asks. After a moment, Jaskier looks back at him.

"Yes."

"Thank you," Eskel adds, "for the gifts. And I'm sorry if I startled you yesterday, I just wanted to see who was leaving them. At this, Jaskier's face flushes a bright red and his gaze drops to the sand in front of him.

"I think you're beautiful," he mumbles, the colour in his cheeks deepening, "and you always seemed so alone up here."

Eskel flounders. He has never considered himself beautiful, especially not with his scar and especially not in comparison to someone like Jaskier.

"Oh."

"I didn't want to disturb you, I just wanted to... visit," he shrugs lamely, "to come and see you."

"You could have just come up when I was on the beach," Eskel suggests and Jaskier looks perplexed.

"Just come up and talk to you?" he asks as if it's a foreign concept. And really, Eskel doesn't know anything about merpeople, it could be.

"Yeah," he says, "I wouldn't mind. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to while I fish."

"Oh. I... have never had someone I could just talk to before."

"What do you mean?"

"Back at my home, I'm a prince," he sighs, "so everyone is intimidated by me because my father is the king. They never want to talk to me in case they anger me or my father, I suppose. And my parents are too busy."

Eskel nods, he knows what that was like. It was just his dad and the three of them, but Lambert was enough work for four parents, never mind one on his own. If Eskel hadn't had Geralt, he would have spent much of his younger life alone.

"Well," he says, "you're welcome to come here. I'd be happy to have company." Jaskier beams at him and Eskel's heart clenches a little. It's been too long since he's had company, he tells himself. "I have a few things to do around the house, but I'll be back shortly if you'd like to wait." Jaskier nods eagerly and just as Eskel calls out to him.

"Wait! I have something for you."

Eskel clambers down the rocks and Jaskier slides over to him, holding out a wreath of dried coral and shells. It's a little damp but holds its shape and Jaskier looks so proud of himself when he gives it to him.

"Thank you," Eskel smiles, "I'll hang it above the fireplace with the first one."

Eskel's chores take altogether too much time and he finds himself skipping over things that aren't necessary and putting jobs aside for later that aren't as important. He shouldn't, but he's eager to get back down to the beach and see Jaskier, even if he can't quite explain why. When everything is finished, he gathers his fishing supplies and makes a lunch to take to the beach with him.

Jaskier is waiting in the shallow water, lying on his stomach and tracing lines in the sand. He looks positively radiant in the afternoon sun, but Eskel finds himself wondering if the sun is good for his skin. He keeps his thoughts to himself and heads down to the beach.

"Hey," he says a little awkwardly and Jaskier perks up. He smiles at Eskel and swipes away the lines in the sand. "I usually go to the end of the rocks, if you want to come?"

"Yes," Jaskier grins and slips back into the water. By the time Eskel makes it to the end of the jut of land, Jaskier is perfectly poised on a flat rock just above the water's edge.

Eskel situates himself and pulls out a worm to hook and Jaskier gives him a funny look.

"What?" Eskel asks, then abruptly realizes Jaskeir has likely never fished like this before. "You put a worm on the hook to attract a fish."

Jaskier wrinkles up his nose at him and then dives soundly into the water. He reappears a moment later with a fish in his hands, offering it up to Eskel where he bobs before him.

"Thank you," Eskel says, trying to avoid the note of confusion in his voice. "You didn't have to."

"I don't mind. Do you need more?"

"No, I-" he wants to tell him no, but Jaskier looks so hopeful that he can't possibly. "If you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Jaskier chirps.

Eskel sets his fishing supplies aside and lies back against the rocks. This time, when Jaskier resurfaces, he comes to lie next to him in the sun. Once Jaskier gets talking, he doesn't stop, but Eskel is happy enough to sit back and listen to him.

It's not until the sun is sinking low in the sky that he realizes how long they've been there. Eskel casts a disappointed look at the fish sitting next to them on the rocks. He'll take them with him anyway because he doesn't want to offend Jaskier, but he's already mentally planning what he's going to eat for supper instead. Only Jaskier follows his gaze and frowns at the fish, picking them up and chucking them back into the water.

"I'll get more," he says and with that, he slips back into the water. He resurfaces only a moment later, holding two fish up to Eskel and smiling almost sadly.

"This was nice," he says and Eskel can't help but smile. He crouches down next to him.

"You're welcome to come back."

"Tomorrow?"

"Any time," Eskel smiles. "Goodnight, Jas-" he stops himself, but Jaskier is already cocking his head at him.

"What?"

"Goodnight," Eskel mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Julian," he offers and Eskel smiles.

"Eskel. Goodnight, Julian."

"Goodnight, Eskel." He turns with a flick of his tail and dives down beneath the surface. For a moment, Eskel watches him, but then the glimmer of his scales fades into the darkness and he's gone.

Julian, he thinks to himself and he can't help but smile.

Julian continues to visit him in the weeks that follow and Eskel finds himself changing up his entire schedule for the time he gets to spend with his new friend. Although more and more often the word friend feels wrong. Because he thinks about Julian even after he's left and he looks forward to seeing him in the morning and he's started whittling little trinkets for him to take home with him.

And Julian tells him more about his people and how they live and Eskel hangs on every word. It's incredible to think there's an entire kingdom practically beneath his feet and he's never known. They talk about everything; Eskel tells him about his brothers and Julian tells him about his family, though he's never very enthusiastic about it.

He shows up every single day and Eskel finds himself hanging on his words, watching the way Julian gestures when he speaks and the way he squirms when he gets too warm sitting out in the sun. He likes to roll off the rocks straight into the water and splash Eskel in the process, once he even pulled him in with him, holding him aloft by wrapping his tail around his legs. And Eskel hasn't been able to stop thinking about that since.

How Julian was warm against him, despite the coolness of the water. How he held him tight and smiled mere inches from his face. Eskel had wanted to lean in, to kiss those plush lips and run his hands through blond, shining hair. He thinks about it still, even as he makes his way down to the rocks. He's packed a lunch and has a carved humpback whale for Julian - Eskel has asked and he'd said they were his favourite. But Julian doesn't come.

Eskel waits and worries and by the time night has fallen and the air has cooled off, he's sure he's done something wrong. Maybe he said something out of place and offended him, or maybe Julian knows how he feels and he's disgusted by it. A sickly feeling swirls in Eskel's gut and he leaves the little carving above the tideline in the hopes Julian will come back during the night.

But when he checks in the morning, the whale is still there and his heart sinks. Surely, he has done something to offend him or Julian would have just said he wouldn't be back. But he didn't and Eskel is alone again. He leaves the carving, in the slim hopes that Julian will still come and collect his final gift, but he's not optimistic.

Night seems to set in early that day and Eskel is tucked into bed long before he normally will be. He can't bear to look out over the ocean tonight knowing Julian is out there and just doesn't want to see him any longer. He buries his head in the pillow and tries to think of anything but Julian and the sea he calls home, but he's surrounded by it, inescapably.

For the next two days, Eskel goes through the motions, wondering how he spent his time before Julian. He's bored, antsy, wishing he had something to do to occupy his mind, but he can't focus on books and his paintings all seem dull and pointless. And he can't even bring himself to look at driftwood again.

But when he can't sleep one night, he climbs out of bed and wanders down to the rocks, wishing he knew how to make this empty feeling stop. But when he gets there, the little whale is gone, replaced by a bottle, soft with the tide and tied neatly with twine. His heart skips a beat and he looks around wildly for any other sign of Julian. There isn't any, but Eskel sits down next to the gift and waits.

He's not sure when he fell asleep, but the next thing he knows it's bright and he opens his eyes to the sun high in the sky and a gull perched on the rock next to him. It flies away when he sits up and next to him, there's a little gasp. He turns to see Julian's head, just peering out of the water and he's so relieved he could cry.

"What are you doing here?" he asks gently, afraid of making things worse.

"I'm sorry I was gone," Julian whispers, "my father found out I've been coming to the surface so often and he was… less than impressed."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't apologize," Julian smiles, "I'd rather be here."

"You were gone for so long, I thought I'd done something wrong-"

"Not at all! I would give all of them up for you." Eskel ducks his head, but he sees the light flush that crosses Julian's cheeks and he fumbles into a sitting position.

"You don't mean that," he mumbles. Julian just looks up at him and pushes himself a little further out of the water.

"Come down here and I'll show you," he whispers and he looks so sincere that Eskel couldn't possibly deny him.

He pulls his boots off and slips down to sit on the lower rocks and he sits with his feet in the water. Julian slips beneath the surface but stays close enough that Eskel can watch him swimming toward him. He resurfaces between Eskel's feet, pulling himself onto the rock between his thighs and leans up so they're nose to nose. Eskel's mouth goes dry and he searches Julian's eyes for any sign of hesitation.

"I'd like to kiss you," Julian whispers and Eskel is barely aware that he's nodding before soft lips are pressed to his own, sharp claws gently running through his hair.

When he pulls away, Julian is beaming at him and he leans in for another kiss before humming softly and drawing away again.

"Could I stay here? Nearby, I mean."

"Of course," Eskel says quickly, "but your family-"

"They told me if I came back to you I'd forfeit the crown and my place in the kingdom."

"Then why are you back?" Eskel exclaims. Julian's hand slips to cup Eskel's jaw and he smiles.

"Because I gave it up."

"For me?"

"For us."

[pandemique]

hI!! i love your art and was wondering if you could make a tutorial showing how you paint stuff? only if you can! it's just really pretty !!

hi nonnie! thats very flattering !! i’m sorry i dont think i’ll be very helpful bc i’m a mega noob as well :D but i’ll try my very best <3

my process is very tailored for speed instead of quality (oops soz LOL) so i do suggest this for if u have short doodle breaks ⬇️⬇️⬇️

thumbnailing (for comics) -> lines (sketch who?) -> bucket tool/color drop in the base color -> color in the lines -> one multiply layer for a “base” shadow (in the vid below its purple!) -> one (1) render/paint layer a.k.a lawless no man’s land

full rendering process & more general painting tips below the cut‼️

NOTE: i’ll be focusing more on traditional/fundamental tips for stylized art because i’m sure there’s a much more effective way in digital. I truly do only use one normal layer for render... i think this is bc before i made this blog, my only prior experience in drawing is middle school art class, so all i know is traditional painting on one layer.... pray i can answer this again in the future with something smarter lmao

🌺 MY PAINT PROCESS

1. Choose a color scheme!

It doesn’t have to be set in stone like below, but i at least keep in mind the color range i’d like to use depending on what i want to convey (ex. soft pastels for soft fluff, or warm colors for happy vibes). I try to be as limited as possible for base colors because I tend to go ham when painting, you’ll see later AHAHA

2. Base coloring + Base shadow

Base -> bucket tool in the color scheme (I know other artists are against this but when i discovered the bucket tool in digital art I immediately divorced manual coloring i’m sorry i loved you tho bae) (this is why my style and lines are simplistic as they are, so the color drop works!)

Base shadow -> in theory, warm-colored light creates cool-colored shadows and vice versa. because i’m a fluff addict i mainly use warmer light, so i like using blue/purple as the shadow. generally u can’t go wrong with complementary colors!! (yellow light & purple shadows / orange light & blue shadows).

I make a new multiply layer (decreased opacity just bc i like things soft okay) and clip it on the base layer, then block in the areas i think would get blocked from the light.

3. Color in the lines!

for simplistic styles i swear this works wonders. i just clip a layer to the lineart and manually color the lines with a darker but more saturated version of the base color. it just tends to look more dead i guess with low saturation lol (ex. u can see above i use both peach and red or pink for lines of skin, i guess it implies the blood under the skin too. or something :D)

4. RENDERRRR

when i’m not in a rush i just paint things completely (and mindlessly), but here are the things i almost always do:

line the shadows with a saturated color! i’m not sure this is common but i love it lol, in almost all my doodles just check the shadows—on the edges, there’s bound to be a wild color :D (usually its the light color, shadow color or a color scheme color but sometimes i’m just like boY do i loVe piNk)

my art major friend told me about saturated colors on desaturated bases and my life was changed forever lol. u can see below even when my base is very grayyy, my rendering is very gay :D ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

make the shadows darker where i think they should be darker. usually i can just colorpick from that darker, saturated lineart color!

if it’s a more realistic piece i usually make the highlights lighter, but in simple doodles i find it unnecessary, and i dont like how light/white it looks :( i tend to just make the areas exposed to light more saturated

color in the rebound light~ in reality there’s usually not only one primary light source, at least there’d be secondary light from where light bounces off objects. in art we just emphasize that! so in large shadow areas, or in areas close to other objects/colors, i like to ‘splash’ other colors on

yeah this part is less intuitive for beginners and u have to learn a grasp on the concepts over time, like for lighting and structure. values can be more important than color, so i do suggest learning shading first before coloring, but only if u like (u can always be like me and just pull up references when u dont get how the light would fall on some materials :>). i have more general paint tips below! don’t give up okay, i believe in u nons, we’re all still in the eternal learning process together ( •̀ᄇ• ́)ﻭ✧

5. OOOOHHH SHINY ✨🤩

this step is just me being mesmerized by how easy it is to play with lighting in digital. i play around with the layer settings (multiply for shadow, overlay for light, and often try out the other settings too!). my favorite effect is the highlight glow thing, where u just make a copy layer of the highlights below the original layer, and blur it slightly so it looks like glow ✨✨🤩 overpriced acrylic could never

6. COLOR ADJUST / EDIT

Truthfully i usually skip this step, but my more pro friends really vouch for it!! i think definitely an incredible thing with digital is that u can edit proportions and even color after you’re done. i think they usually use like the curves adjustment layer in photoshop until they get colors they like, but for me, well, in a reaally diligent day i like to slap on the “auto” fliter in the iphone’s photos edit button lmaoooo

🌺 GENERAL PAINTING TIPS

learn basic theory: i think theres free courses everywhere online, but heres a few things u might like to have a basic understanding of: color, perspective, shape language, lighting, composition. don’t sweat it too much tho, it should be fun to explore the concepts!

and for drawing hoomans: proportion, gesture, expression, and veery basic anatomy. i find that overall forms are so much more important to learn than like detailed anatomy bc u can always look it up lol

but remember, u mostly want to learn the rules so u know better ways to break them :)

uuuuse manyyyyy referencessss every time u draww!

^this includes other people’s art — when u see good stuff, figure out why u like it and apply it to ur own art

get feedback!!!!

draw tons!!! brainrot helps !! ;D

aaand thank u for coming to my ted talk! sorry for the ramble nonnie, i hope u got something out of this lol

[oneweekoneband]

shouldn’t gay taylor swift fans be given access to the original homophobic version of "picture to burn”? and other post-evermore reflection questions.

Did yesterday last twice as long as a regular day? Does anyone else feel like pulled taffy today or is that the four red wine spritzers I made myself with Sutter Home mini bottles of cab and cherry flavored seltzer? How long has it been since Taylor Swift has been to an Olive Garden? Is the part in “willow” where she’s like “You know that my train could take you home / anywhere else is hollow” about pegging? Does Taylor Swift understand even a basic sketch of the events of The Great Gatsby, a novel commonly assigned in school to teenaged children? Is Taylor implying on “marjorie” that her grandmother is a ghost? Is it weird of me to think it is nice that Taylor believes her grandmother is a ghost? Do I believe my grandmother is a ghost? Is it weird of me to think it is nice to wonder if maybe she might be? Is “gold rush” obviously for the Kaylors, or am I just being prejudiced against men’s theoretical right to be good looking? Last night I peeled myself up from a circle at the foot of the bed and poured hot sauce into canned minestrone soup when I realized it was already hours past dark. After it warmed on the stove I ate on our cramped front porch at the little painted table that is dirty all the time from just the air, I guess, even if you wipe it down twice a day, so when I see it I think of my lungs covered in dust too. But last night it was cool outside and I wanted to get as much air inside of me as possible, dirty or not, before the time came to crack southward at the waist, fall hard, with all my weight, down to my knees, and supplicate myself most disgracefully at the feet of the Lord’s most terrible daughter. The new Taylor Swift album became available at nine pm pacific time. Will there ever be salvation?

Has Taylor Swift ever met up with high school friends in a bar over the holidays and wanted to cry a little the entire time, feeling a battle in her own body between the parts inclined to slide back into the shape of an old self to fit and the hardened parts that can’t? I don’t really think so! But with “’tis the season” she has written a song about fucking your ex while home for Christmas anyway, and it slaps. It is always a wonderful treat when this anthropomorphized Tiffany platinum tennis bracelet sits herself down and writes up a pretty little fiction about the small and ugly things that normal human people do. This is what makes “All Too Well”—a perfect piece of autofiction about her fake boyfriend Jake Gyllenhaal—so good, though if you say that in certain company the reaction is like you’ve shot a dog. When Taylor spins me some shit like this, like about parking out by the Methodist to meet up in those strange, stretchy days at the very end of December for theoretically casual sex that you’ll think about sadly on the plane when you go, I accept it like a pomegranate seed plopped on my tongue by Hades himself and I thank her. If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you!!!!!!!!

Why doesn’t Taylor just call this a bunch of b sides that didn’t fit right on folklore? That’s what it is. And why deny that? They’re largely very good b sides. I love “dorothea”. Do you love “dorothea”?  Are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers???? If Taylor really is going to release a third part of this moody forest saga come March, will the government show some real leadership for once and declare a purge so that we the people might rise up and bring this despot to the justice she so richly deserves? Why is Taylor Swift the Patricia Clarkson in Sharp Objects to our sweating and shaking Amy Adams? Why do our mouths loll open helplessly to accept her poison spoon when proffered? Mama, please... Do you think, strictly within the cinematic universe of “no body, no crime (feat. Haim)”, wherein Olive Garden regular Taylor Swift avenges canonically murdered Haim sister Este by killing her husband and (my favorite bit) implicitly framing the mistress, that after all that is squared away she and alive Haim sister Danielle bang it out? Why did the lilting piano ballad, “champagne problems”, about refusing a marriage proposal from a college boyfriend make me cry this morning on my pathetic little walk around the neighborhood? Was I thinking of the night I was 22 when I said no and no and no then yes to a drunk boy asking me with flashlight eyes to give him a nonsense forever promise, which I did because I knew in the morning we’d have forgotten, or would pretend to? Is it because I know that night so well, can still feel and smell and see, though I never mentioned it to anyone, everything about the few hours in the dark where I fought sleep because it felt nice pretending I was someone I knew I couldn’t be? Or was it just because on Twitter someone made a video setting the song to clips of Sersh & Timmy frolicking together wearing the same vest in Little Women? Is “coney island (feat. The National)” the first duet between Taylor and a man that isn’t an atrocity and an attack or is that purely my Matt Berninger derangement disorder speaking? Is “coney island (feat. The National)” degrading my nervous system like a wasting disease even as we speak? Did I close my fist around something delicate???? Did I shatter you??????? Will my own horrible hand ever come out of the Arthur meme clenched fist into which it furiously curled when I first listened to the, yes, fine, extremely lovely “coney island (feat. The National)”??????? It’s been almost a full day and typing like this isn’t very efficient.

Is “cowboy like me” my dual reward for fighting with so many annoying guys in my “The Cowboy in the American Imagination” class lo those many years ago and, plus, for always believing that country Taylor would never die for good? Did Taylor Swift watch Brokeback Mountain for the first time this year? Would Taylor Swift like me to email her a pdf of the Annie Proulx story? Does Taylor Swift want to buy me the too expensive D.S. & Durga “Cowboy Grass” perfume I’ve been coveting for years? Is all cowboy content inherently queer? Just kidding—that one isn’t a question. Now that Taylor is once more in the business of recreational yeehawing shouldn’t she, as a gesture of goodwill, make the forbidden original homophobic version of “Picture to Burn” available exclusively to those gay fans who wish to have it? (i.e. the elite gay fans with a sense of history and place.) Does she not owe us that much? Isn’t that really the only respectful thing to do? Is it not the very, very least this monster could do?

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (2)

part 2 is already here! fun fact, I’ve actually written like 16 chapters and I probs won’t always be posting weekly but I really wanted to put out part 2 sooooo... yeah. The Tom Holland x reader high school AU continues

Story Masterlist

Warnings: mild language

Word Count: 2365 (shorter than before, I know)

% approximately 1st week of September %

The next week had been relatively uneventful. Mrs. Flynn gave you both an A on your budget for the first week.

She also drew the next weekly condition, which for you was a $300 doctor’s visit of one family member.

“Well that’s stupid. If this were real life, we wouldn’t even need to take our kids to the doctor as PA’s,” Tom argued.

“First off, it’s not real life, and secondly, what if the kid broke a bone? Who’s gonna cast it, genius?”

“Well we probably wouldn’t have to pay,” he grumbled

When Friday afternoon hit, you were almost disappointed to see Tom not in the stands for your game, but remembered that the team had to start all their pregame rituals a couple hours before kickoff.

After crushing the competition, you took a quick shower and put on the shirt every senior was supposed to wear and walked to the field, where some of your friends had already claimed a spot on the bleachers. 

It was still a half hour before kickoff, so you talked as they helped put paint streaks on your cheeks and tie ribbons in your hair to show school spirit. You also watched the boys run drills until they were called to the sidelines for the national anthem. 

The team captains met for the coin toss, and as Tom and his co captain headed back to the team huddle, Tom spotted you in the crowd and pointed directly at you.

You didn’t know what he was doing so you quickly flipped him off and went back to your conversation.

They ended up winning the game by a field goal, and true to his word, Tom had actually played pretty well, aside from getting sacked towards the end of the game. 

You and the girls, not yet wanting to go home, hung out in the parking lot as families left.

“Hey, look. It’s your husband,” Alexis pointed out as Tom and a couple other players came limping down the lot with bags in tow. They were still wearing their football pants but had removed their jerseys, leaving on sleeveless compression shirts.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. But I will say, his mom already loves me. We’re on a first name basis.”

She gave you a little low-five out of pride.

You couldn’t help but notice Tom pull the necklace out from under his shirt’s collar, the ring still attached.

Did he wear that the whole game?

He spotted you from a few yards away and yelled out,

“Hey hey hey. What did I tell you? Swooning yet?” he held his arms out as if to show he was right.

“Not quite, bub. But I’ll give you that touchdown pass. Don’t forget we have to work on the budget tomorrow!”

“Yeah yeah, see you then, princess.” He waved a hand as he continued on to his car.

Ugh. Princess.

Tom had been calling you that ever since the time freshman year you were the leading princess in a school play. 

You had hated the role for many reasons. 

For one, the character had no development and was basically dumb and defenseless (aka the exact opposite of you and everything you stood for). On top of that, the costumes were hideous, and what should have been a couple of pretty ballgowns and flowing skirts ended up being completely unflattering in color, shape, and style.

Everyone knew you hated it, and Tom loved to rub that in your face.

Eventually, you decided to retire home for the night since you had had such a taxing day.

%

You rang the Holland’s doorbell again, and this time it was opened by Tom’s youngest brother, Paddy. He was in the 5th grade, so you didn’t know him well. 

A perfect opportunity to make a good impression.

“Hey there, Paddy. Is Tom around? We’re supposed to work on our project today.”

“I’m not sure where he is, but I’m sure I can find him. Come on in.”

“Oh thank you. So polite.”

He sheepishly looked down as his face reddened. 

“I’ll be right back.”

He ran to the stairs and disappeared up them. A few minutes later an exhausted looking Tom appeared at the top of the stairs next to his brother.

“Come on up, I need to take a piss before we get started.” he called down, ever the charmer. He rubbed his eyes. He was only wearing a pair of sweats.

You followed his word and sat down on his bedroom floor, pulling up the documents on your computer as you waited. He came back wearing a shirt, a mug of coffee in hand.

“Want some? I made it fresh. I just woke up if you couldn’t tell.”

“No thanks. I don’t drink coffee, I find it disgusting. Caffeine addiction’s bad for you anyways.”

He looked down at the drink and back at you.

“Well we can’t all be perfect little princesses.”

You wanted to slap him, but just fired back with an insult and got to work. There wasn’t as much to do today other than reallocate the funds for the appointment and make up a story of what could have happened.

You both laid on your stomachs looking at the screen. As you typed, you heard heavy breathing and glanced over to see Tom had fallen back asleep.

Wow. He almost looks nice when he’s sleeping. What a disappointment.

You finished your paragraph and shook him awake.

“Ugh. sorry. I told you I’m a mess after game days.”

He went to push up to a sitting position when he winced, inhaling sharply. He put his head back on the ground.

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just pulled a muscle in my back last night. I think it’s from that sack.”

“Do you need me to get you something? LIke icy hot or some advil? I carry both at all times.”

“Icy hot would be perfect. I already took some painkillers.”

You shifted up and grabbed your backpack, pulling out the tube. You tossed it next to him to use.

“I hate to ask this, because you’re you, but could you put it on for me? I don’t think I can reach.”

You hesitated, but agreed since you knew what it felt like to be in pain like that. 

“Okay. Give me a general idea of where it is and I’ll poke around to find it.”

“Just under my shoulder blades on the right.”

He pulled up his shirt and you went to touch his back lightly. He flinched when your fingers graced his skin.

“Oh yeah, my hands are cold by the way.”

“No shit.”

You put your hand back, pressing lightly until he winced again, then you put a small amount of the ointment on your hand, massaging it in.

 You rhythmically rubbed your hand over the area in little circles, trying to loosen the tight muscle with your palm. You didn’t think much about it until he let out a moan, and you pulled your hand back like he was on fire.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry. It just felt so good on that spot and it just slipped out-”

“Let’s just agree to never mention this again. I’m gonna go wash my hands. And hopefully my brain while I’m at it. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Just across the hall. Can’t miss it.”

A little bit later and you were finally done for the day, so you helped Tom up and again packed your things.

“Sorry again about earlier. Thanks, though. It really helped.”

“Like I said, we don’t need to talk about it. Just never make that sound again, please. See you Monday.”

And with that you were out the door.

%

Another week, and Mrs. Flynn gave you another A and a budget condition.

Both you and Tom again won at your respective sporting events, and you again went to Tom’s.

Throughout the week, you and Tom had been on your usual game, firing shots. But at home it was like he was a different person. Sure you still jabbed at each other occasionally, but there was a more friendly aspect to it this week.

You were sitting on the floor when you felt a familiar pain in your lower abdomen.

You ignored it for a minute, but then it hit twice as strong. Immediately you shot up.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” you stated, speaking quickly.

“Uh. Okay?”

You rushed in and as you sat down pulled up your period tracker app. 

You weren’t supposed to start for 4 more days.

Well that’s a lie you thought as you caught a streak of red upon wiping.

You dug through the under-sink cabinet, hoping and praying to find something, anything you could use. When that came up dry, you just stuffed up some toilet paper and resigned to getting a tampon from your backpack.

A sense of panic filled your chest, however, when you realized the little bag you kept with extra supplies was nowhere to be found. That’s when you remembered that you had taken it out to replenish and apparently never put it back.

“Oh no. Oh no no no!”

There wasn’t even a single liner at the bottom of the bag.

“What’s got you in a tiff, princess? Don’t we have everything we need already?”

You sighed. You weren’t one to announce when you were on your period, since guys liked to believe that all women become bitches when they bleed. But you were desperate.

“Look, I know you’re gonna make fun of me, but I just started my period and don’t have anything to deal with it and I don’t know what to do.”

“Can’t you just hold it?”

“Ha ha good one. Seriously though I don’t know what I’m gonna do. If I don’t figure out something fast, I’ll bleed through my pants.”

Tom looked at you confused.

“Wait a second,” you started. “You weren’t serious right then, right? Like you do know it’s something women can’t control?”

“WHAT?” he exclaimed. “You can’t?”

“You know, for someone who calls himself so smart you sure are a dumbass. How do you know nothing about periods? You play football, haven’t you had a girlfriend before?”

He got quiet.

“No. I’m too busy competing with you that when I do get free time, everyone gets really intimidated by you.”

“Oh... “ you didn’t know what to say, but then a cramp hit you like a ton of bricks and you doubled over. “Ugh. could you just go get your mom? I need to go back to the bathroom and try not to throw up.”

Eventually, Nikki came and left some midol, tampons, and a heating pad for you and you were able to go back to Tom’s room, finding him leaning against his bed. He sat up straight when you walked in.

“Are- are you okay? You seemed to be in a lot of pain earlier.”

You plugged in the heating pad and turned it on, laying down on your back so you could drape it across your stomach. The midol hadn’t yet kicked in.

“Yeah, I’m good. It was early this month and I just wasn’t prepared,” you said staring at the ceiling, but turned your head to look at him. 

“Sorry if what I said was insensitive. I just figured you knew more about it than the average guy and I was so panicked that I wasn’t thinking straight. I’ve never had a boyfriend either. Same situation.”

“Hah, nerd.” 

You rolled your eyes and threw a nearby pillow at him. 

“Like you have room to talk. Now let’s just finish this so I can go home and take a nap.”

%

When you got to home ec Monday, you hadn’t spoken to Tom since leaving his house Saturday. Frankly, you were embarrassed about the situation still and figured he felt awkward too. 

Then, of course, you learned that Mrs. Flynn had decided to throw the class a curveball to tie the marriage project into regular class assignments.

For a unit on sewing, she was making each couple work together to make a small “marriage quilt” approximately the size of a baby blanket. Partners would have to work together to choose the colors, make a design, and sew it together within 2 weeks in class.

So there you were, sitting in the back corner of the room discussing design options and drawing up a pattern with Tom.

Upon realizing you both loved blue, you decided to make a blue based quilt. There would be little teal and pink accents as well in a couple of the fabrics you chose.

You sat in silence as you both cut small squares of fabric and batting. Other groups were talking, but things still felt heavy.

“Hey, uh. About Saturday…” Tom began quietly from the right of you.

“Please don’t bring it up. Everything turned out fine so let’s just keep it that way. I don’t need you to embarrass me more.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… what you said got me thinking. I know about all kinds of stuff and I’d like to go into medicine one day, but I know nothing about women’s health. So, I spent a good portion of yesterday researching and honestly, I had no idea how much you all go through. We may hate each other, but I respect you a lot more than before.”

“Oh. Wow. You know, I’m sure you read about it yesterday, but it’s super different for everyone. I wouldn’t even consider mine nearly as bad to some peoples’. But that’s really nice of you. And just because we hate each other doesn’t mean I won’t offer to let you ask me questions whenever. Education is way more important than any rivalry.” 

He smiled slightly and looked down at his desk, then back up, putting out his left fist. 

“Is a fist bump a good enough agreement to let each other ask any kinds of questions like that, no malice intended?” he asked.

You smiled back and hit your right fist to his left one. Eventually you went back to your normal arguing, but you couldn’t stop replaying the scene in your head.

%

A/N: thanks for reading guys! I’m so so busy with school right now that it’s going to be hard to release chapters weekly but I am trying to keep a somewhat regular upload schedule! I’ve written about 16 chapters so I have a lot of content to share already and there’s still more before I finish. As always, I can’t reply to post replies but my messages and asks are always open! 

Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06

[pettyprocrastination]

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Chapter One Word count: 1.9k Warnings: Uhhh brief talk of race, some language.  Chapter summary: You’re a seamstress in dc, with a tiny but successful shop run by your and your spunky cashier. Today you get a visitor that is far out of your usual demographic.

tag list: @captainsamwlsn @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @zeldasayer

(yes that’s a marilyn monroe pic she’s a major look for Valerie alright.)

Many believed that the eyes were the window to the soul, your father disagreed with that. He believed the truth of somebody's character was in their hands. 

“Shows a lot about them, little bee.” your father showed his own hands to you, wrinkled and scarred with tiny nics from years of work as a tailor. You were nine at the time, just last week you had completed your first sundress! You spent your afternoons after school in the shop with your father, doing whatever he asked. “-If they're a hard worker or if they don’t do anything at all. These little fellas will show you just that.” He wiggled his fingers at you before poking at your stomach, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles.

Twenty five years later and his words still ring true. When you first meet somebody, you don’t look at their clothes, or their smile, or even their eyes. You look for their character in their hands. 

So the moment the tiny bell rang at your shop door, your eyes were taken away from the pinned gown in front of you and towards the lithe fingers wrapped around the door handle. 

Manicured nails painted a deep red, fingers daintily curled, skin unscarred and void of all blemishes. Absolutely perfect. 

Who would expect any less of Maxwell Lord’s wife?

Your only other employee, Cassandra, a sweet sixteen year old girl you hired to watch the register and sweep floors, squeaked. 

“Hello,” She lifted the sunglasses from her face and set them utop her blonde curls. Her eyes zeroed in on you with an analytical gaze. In comparison to her floor length  fur coat and satin blouse, you suddenly felt flushed in your ripped trousers and patterned button up. “Are you the owner?” She put such infliction on each word you couldn’t tell if she was judging your store or the fact that you owned it.

Either way you felt like you were supposed to be offended. 

“That I am.” 

She slid her coat off, looking at your coat rack with a wrinkled nose before finally setting it on the hook. She walked around your store, taking in the little knick-knacks that lined the counter and the racks of clothing with a judgmental eye. 

Her eyes flicked to Cassandra, who still stood behind the register with her jaw dropped open. 

Mrs.Lord smiled and tapped the underside of her chin and she snapped her mouth shut. 

“You made all of these yourself?” Her voice was smooth like silk, but had a sharp edge to it. You felt as if you were waiting to embarrass yourself in front of her. She took a white sundress into her hands, feeling the fabric between her fingers. 

“Most of them.” You answered. She froze and raised a sculpted brow.

“Most?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Some of these are thrift store finds, just altered and restyled.” Her ruby lips bent into a frown, glaring at the dress she held with disappointment. 

“That one is an original though.”

She stared at the dress for a moment, face scrunched up in thought before she regained her cool composure and tossed it to you over her shoulder, which landed on your face. “Be a dear and hold that for me, would you?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer. By the time you lifted the lace that obscure your vision, she was already looking at another dress. You followed behind her. 

Why the hell not? You thought to yourself as she handed you a satin blouse. You didn’t have any other customers at the moment, and you aren't being met with for a design consultation for another three hours. 

Besides, how often is it that Valerie fucking Lord walks into your store like a frequent customer?

She continued to walk around your store, red heels echoing throughout as she stopped at certain dresses and tops (mostly those of silk or lace) to admire them, before either adding them to the growing pile in your arms, or setting them back on the rack with a sour look. The entire time she did, you wondered what it was that drew in her to your tiny shop. 

The woman before you had been a big deal since she was born. Before she was Valerie Lord, she was Valerie Ackkerman. Her father had been a Hollywood director in the fifties who married an up and coming actress hot to the scene. The couple dominated the big screen and became a loved pair to America, that is until her mother got a baby bump, got demoted to supporting roles for the rest of her career, and her father continued to go on and  make films many to this day still consider iconic. 

You considered most of them to be a racist and misogynist, but you suppose they were simply a product of their time. 

And a shitty director. 

Valerie Ackkerman became Dr.Ackkerman, psychiatrist with multiple books surrounding a vast majority of subjects that can affect one’s mental state. Such as greed, fame, and the lack of proper paternal figures to shape your childhood.

Which made her choice in marriage all the more ironic. 

Maxwell Lord the fourth was a man as American as apple pie and the corporate greed that came as a table side. He’d taken over his father’s company at the ripe age of sixteen at his passing, having been groomed for the position since he was a child. 

Maxwell Lord was known as a ruthless tycoon, a tech mogul who will smile wide in his commercials before making a grown man cry in his boardroom. His wife was just as feared as him and seeing her before you now, you perfectly understood why. She was prettier than sin itself and just as rich. Which begged the question…

Why in God’s name was she in your shop?

“How long have you been sewing?” A floor length skirt with a slit up the leg was tossed in your arms. 

“Since I can remember.” Her fingers ghosted along the hangers before plucking a pink slip dress off the rack and holding it up against her body. “My father was a tailor. He taught me everything he knew.” She turned to the mirror on the other side of the room and looked at her reflection while smoothing out the fabric of the dress. “When he passed away I took over the shop, but I basically ran it already.”

She chuckled, shaking her head as if your father's death had tickled her so. “Sounds like somebody I know.”  Mrs. Lord turned to you, the dress pressed against her body. “Thoughts?”

Your eyes roamed over her body as you tried to form sentences, but nothing came out in fear of saying the wrong thing in front of a woman so powerful, she could burn your shop to the ground with a single call to her husband. 

Beautiful. You wanted to say. And terrifying. 

“It suits you.” 

She turned back to the mirror, her eyes focused on your reflection instead of her own. She tilted her head to the side and hummed. You felt like you were on display, being examined, picked apart and analyzed by the prettiest blue eyes you've ever seen in your life. 

“I know.”

When she walked past you to the register and you got a waft of her perfume, something sharp and citrusy, most likely belonging to a brand you wouldn’t dream of wearing. 

Cassandra rang her up in silence, nervously looking up from each item to the woman standing in front of her. Her hands trembled so bad you could see the fabric shake when she picked them up. 

You would have taken over for her, but  you were trying to ignore the burning sensation in your face at her judgmental gaze. You’d seen it all before, from women like her. Rich, white, beautiful, and privileged as all hell. You knew the way her eyes scanned your clothes, critiquing your curls, the cut of your jeans and the pattern of your button up that lay partially open against your chest. 

You wish you could say you were sick of it. But mostly? You just didn’t give a shit. 

Cassandra’s shaking hands dropped the bag into the floor before it reached Valarie’s, she looked about ready to cry before you stepped in. 

“Oh god I’m so-”

“It’s fine Cassie.” Her red lips snapped shut at your interjection and blase tone. 

You swiped the plastic bag and held it out to the woman with a neutral face.“Eighty-nine fifty.” You told her. She looked at you as if you had grown a second head. 

She must not be used to being treated like something other than royalty. 

But that look was replaced by a coy smile. She took the plastic bag full of clothes from your hands and handed you a thick wad of cash that was well over the amount she owed. Red, manicured nails trailing down your palm as she did. 

You suppressed a shudder. 

“You know-” She took the lace sundress out of her bag, thumb trailing along the seam. “-Your work is on par with some of the brands I wear.” You weren’t sure why the sight of her stroking something you made felt so damn intimate, but you felt like you needed to look away as if you were interrupting something.“-Maybe even better than them.”

Christ, you needed to get out more. 

“Well yeah.” You shrugged matter of factly and crossed your arms. “That’s because I’m driven by artist integrity. Not making some shoddy dress and slapping a fancy brand on it, in hopes that some trust fund baby will wear it to her next yacht party.”

The moment those words left your lips you realized you had said them to the wealthiest customer you ever had. 

Who laughed. 

Cassandra went pale as a sheet while you spoke, looking between you and the woman worth more than your entire store like she expected an explosion. 

Mrs. Lord smiled at you. “We’ll you're right about that. I have to agree.” Her hands ran down the side of the dress and stopped when she felt a fold in the white fabric. “Are these-”

“Pockets?” You grinned, like it was your greatest achievement. Honestly? It kind of was. “Sure are. Decently sized ones too, can fit your whole hand in and everything.” To prove your point, the heiress stuck her entire hand into the pocket and wiggled it with a laugh. 

“There’s still more room in it!” She sounded so in awe and excited, it reminded you of a child on Christmas. 

Her joy was infectious. 

“Every dress I make has pockets, it’s sort of like my signature.”

“Every dress?”

You drew an X over your heart. “Stitches guarantee.”

Mrs. Lord grinned. “You're certainly one of a kind miss...”

You told her your name, and she repeated it back. The way she said it made it sound like the brand name of a thousand dollar purse. 

“But you can call me stitches.” You said simply. “Everybody does.”

Cassandra looked at you with wide eyes, shocked that you went from accidentally insulting her to being chummy enough to share the silly nickname you got from customers. 

“Do they now?” She walked to the coat rack and slipped her jacket on. “Well tell me this, Stitches-” Mrs.Lord took the glasses off the top of her head and slid them over her eyes. “Do you do commission work?”

You blinked for a moment. “Well I do, but-”

She squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh perfect! We’ll be in touch then.”

“Wait-” You faltered, trying to run from behind the counter after her, but all you succeeded in doing was banging your hip against the corner. “Fuck! Who’s we?”

“Oh don’t you worry about that.” She opened the door and looked over her shoulder. “One more thing though, do you make suits as well?”

A/n:SHE’S HERE BABY WOOOOO. Iv’e been talking headcanons with @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa for like a week and a half now about this bad boy and im so excited to get the ball rolling! I love max and i love poly ships so HERE WE ARE Valerie lord owns my ass yall. Anyways please don’t feel shy to send me messages about these babes, asks, critiques or just come say hello! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list, i hope you all have a good and safe day <3

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 1) John Deacon x Reader Series

I’ve read so many fan fics in the past four months and I thought it was high time to try my hand at it. I’ve created this side blog so that I can 1) Express my love for Queen and 2) Not annoy the randos from high school and college who still follow my main. This’ll be a slow burn folks, so hold on to your hats.

Series summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader (eventually)

Chapter Warnings: Lots o’ curses

Chapter Summary: This is basically just some set up for the series. No Deacy yet, but a meet-cute to happen very soon! I got the band name with the help of some random band name generator so be kind. I’m hoping to introduce in some songs readers may not have heard - I was thinking of “Heart of the Night” by Juice Newton while writing this, hence the single name and album.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

- - - - - - -

Days of Our Lives Documentary Shoot - 2010

(Brian May and Roger Taylor Joint Interview)

“The early 80s were huge for us, for sure. I believe we were at our biggest then, internationally speaking.” Brian states, glancing over to Roger.

“Yes, Another One Bites the Dust really set things a-flame I think. The traveling and playing were constant. The crowds getting bigger by the venue. Parties, hotels, girls, more parties. We were meeting just so many people.” Roger adds.

“And one of those being a certain American female rock singer.” The interviewer adds quietly from off-camera.

Roger glances over to him with a questioning look, but Brian catches on quick, like always.

“Ah yes, that particular rock goddess. We did meet her around then, I believe, yes. Maybe a few years after.” Brian says knowingly, still playing along.

Roger stares into space with a confused look on his face until the realization hits him. “Are we talking about Y/N?” Roger mutters to Brian. “Yes” Brian chuckles, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Oh, what a spit-fire she is! Not back then though. Fred really worked some magic with that one. Almost inseparable those two were.” Roger laughs out, a wave of nostalgia washing over his face.

Brian raises his large eyebrows, “Deacy would beg to differ I think.”

Roger smirks, “Oh, well that’s a whole different story.”

- - - - - - -

1982 - MTV Studios, New York City

You run your hands up and down your thighs, trying to will your left knee to stop repeatedly bouncing up and down. The satin of your pants does nothing for the layer of sweat on your clammy hands. You fold them together in your lap and gaze around the studio instead, taking in the bustling of crew members as they ready for the pre-taped interview. The god-like VJ, Alan Hunter, sits in a chair off to the side as someone artfully pieces his blonde locks into place. He grins over at you with a small wave. You limply lift your hand in a greeting, pasting on a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

You catch your pained expression as you glimpse a monitor off-camera. A friendly woman backstage had painted your face to the point of being almost unrecognizable. Gone was the evidence under your eyes of the restless sleep you’d fought the previous night. They were wide and doed, rather than their normal crescent shape. Your lips full and vibrant, your hair bounced and fanned out around your face. And your skin seemed to be glowing, masking the spots that had popped up overnight from stress. You looked every bit the rock goddess the label hoped to paint you as, and the exact opposite of the nerves currently threatening to overtake your body.

“Y/N, I can feel you vibrating from here. Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be fine.” Rich commented from beside you. His legs were splayed out, his arms bent behind his head. Looking as relaxed as can be, as if he were on his couch at home catching a movie marathon, about to doze off.

“How can you be so calm right now?” You rush out. “Who knows how many people are going to see this interview. Do you know how many times a day I accidentally let the F word fly out of my mouth?”

Rich lets out a snort. “I happen to know exactly how much you curse, thank you. Yesterday you said fuck 3 times in one sentence. It was charming, my mom loved it.” He moves his right arm to squeeze around your shoulders. Usually, it would be a comforting display of friendship, but you shake it off.

“And look at those three. Already so at home, I see.” You nod to the three other members of the band. Steve is exuding energy like yourself, but it’s excitement that bubbles from him. His eyes flit around the room quickly as he taps out some unknown rhythm on his bent legs. A wide grin permanently fixed on his boyish features.

At the far end of the couch, Eddie and Lawrence are wrapped up in a not-so-silent game of knuckles.

“Son of a-- Will you take off those damn rings? It’s my turn and I’m still getting bruised.” Lawrence huffs. Eddie wiggles his long, skilled, silver-clad fingers in front of his face and raises his eyebrows. “It’s all about the look, baby. Gotta play the part of the guitar god.”

“Will you both knock it off.” You call over to them. “We need both those sets of hands in playing shape for tomorrow night.”

Eddie turns, probably to counter with some playful comment about how you mother them too much, but Alan approaches.

“Alright, guys. And girl.” He flashes his perfectly white teeth your way again. “We’re about 5 minutes out from going up. Anybody need anything? Water, vodka, beer…” He turns his gaze to Steve, who is still tapping lightly on his legs. “A Xanax, perhaps?”

“Waters all around would be great, thanks.” You offer. Alan nods to a twitchy PA waiting to his side and they hurry off.

“Oh wait up, a Bud Light too, if you have any!” Eddie calls after them. The other three boys echo the same as well.

“You can take the boys out of Long Island…” you mutter to yourself. Rich teasingly pokes your side. “And something stiff for the lady!” He shouts out.

“In all manner of ways” Steve giggles. You feign a shocked expression and reach over to place a gentle slap to the side of his head. He looks over with big apologetic eyes and you stifle a laugh.

In record time, the lanky PA rushes back over with a myriad of drinks, all threatening to topple over on the tray they were precariously balanced on. Another PA trails behind, handing you all water, which you’re in desperate need of. They hand the drinks out one by one and stop before you. “Your water, Miss. And I didn’t know what you liked so I have a jack and coke, a whiskey sour, and a gin and tonic.”

“The gin and tonic is great, thanks.” They hurriedly hand you the drink and go to turn away. “Love your hair by the way.” You tell them. “I’m absolute shit at styling mine. Guess I’ll have to learn now.” They smile back at you and run a hand through their short locks before disappearing amongst the rest of the crew.

“Okay, we’re ready to rock n’ roll!” Alan exclaims, getting the band’s attention as he sits down in a chair next to your side of the couch. “We’re going to start off with a few basics on the band. Your lower thirds will have your instruments labeled but feel free to explain how you guys started out, your influences, your process. I’ll prompt you in between and then we'll talk about the album and promote your upcoming tour towards the end. Should take 15 minutes tops, so keep your answers brief. But I won’t say no to any rowdy stories you want to throw in.” He finishes with a wink.

The band nods along as you gulp down a breath, your palms becoming even slicker. The stage manager’s high voice rings out around the studio. “Playback ready! Live to tape in 5.. 4...” Rich places a hand over your knee and gives a squeeze. “Light em’ up, Bun” he mutters in your ear.

“3.. 2..” She holds up a finger and then points it at Alan, a wide smile already set on his face. The camera light flicks red as the MTV open plays from speakers around the room. Alan beings as the song fades out.

“We’re here in the studio and boy, am I excited to get to know this next band. Over at MTV we’ve been watching the steady rise of their single “Heart of the Night” on the charts. And as an added surprise, they’re here to introduce their very first music video. I’m very pleased to welcome to the studio, Lo & The Limbs!”

You try to relax your face as a camera pans across the band and settles on a two-shot of you and Alan. You know your eyes are gleaming with anxiety so you glance down the couch, silently praying for one of the boys to take the lead.

“Thanks for having us Alan, it’s such a trip to be here.” Eddie says with ease, resting his forearms on his knees.

“So, I have to ask. Who is Lo? Is it you Lawerence?” Alan questions the piano player.

“Oh god, no.” Lawrence chuckles. “Our high school was affectionately called Lo High, for Long Island HighSchool of the Arts. So we sort of tacked that on while playing during those years to let people know where we were from. That and well, as you can see we’re all above 6 foot except for Y/N, so a lot of limbs going on here.”

Alan gives a short laugh. “You released your debut album, Quiet Lies, earlier this year to growing success. Why don’t you tell me how you all started out.”

“Well, the boys and I have been together for a few years. We’ve been friends since grade school and we always just used to jam about. As we got older we started playing local bars back on Long Island to mostly middle-aged crowds, trying to break in, but it wasn’t working. Then Rich had the idea to invite Y/N to join up and it’s all kind of all taken off from there.” Eddie explains.

“We needed a pretty face to balance out all these ugly mugs” Steve pipes up.

“It took a while for her to finally concede though. She was off being too studious for the likes of us.” Rich adds on with a smile and nudge to your side. Your eyes grow wide as you feel a question directed at you coming on.

“Is that true, Y/N?”

“I- I guess, I was at NYU studying documentary filmmaking.” You choke out, but continue on. “Love this lighting set up, by the way, it really hides all sins.” That gets a light chuckle out of the crew surrounding you.

“And these sins you’re hiding are…” Alan grins but quickly bounces to the next topic. “Certainly a good call, Rich. Heart of the Night is the only song off the album that Y/N is singing lead on and look how well it’s doing. How did that happen?”

“Most of our songs were already written from before when we finally got the money to record. We wanted Y/N to feel a part of it, so she went on and wrote Heart of the Night and we were all very pleasantly surprised that it’s become such a hit.” Steve explains. “She also directed the music video we’ll be debuting today. I can’t believe she let us do all the things we did in that… well, you’ll just have to see for yourselves. We can be a bit of a handful.” The boys all chuckle.

“That and she plays the weirdest collection of instruments. Rhythm guitar, any type of strings, the saxophone… She's a boss on the harmonica.” Eddie turns to you as he speaks. “You just need to get over those pesky little nerves about your singing, Bun!” He points in your direction.

You feel the heat rise behind your perfectly painted cheeks at the slip of your nickname. You cast your gaze down at your lap. Not liking how the conversation has turned directly onto you.

Alan quirks an eyebrow at you. “Bun?” He teases.

You have yet to lift your eyes when Rich answers for you. “Bunny, an affectionate nickname. It’s stuck around since grade school when she wandered into Lawrence's backyard in search of a rabbit she was chasing.”

“A rockstar called Bunny. There’s a first for everything.” Alan quips, but quickly notices your displeasure in the current topic. Sensing your growing panic, he addresses the rest of the group. “This has been quite the debut album, with more hits sure to come from it. Any bands you’ve taken inspiration from while writing and producing?”

Rich jumps at the question. “Fleetwood Mac would be a big one. The way they layer their sounds is just unmatchable. You catch something new with every listen of an album of theirs.”

“I can’t be a pianist from Long Island and not mention the granddaddy, Billy Joel.” Lawrence adds. “His songs take you on such a ride. They’re full stories, each one of them.”

“And you, Y/N?” Alan directs the next question. “Who will you be drawing inspiration from when you write your next hit single?”

You smile to yourself. “It’s gotta be Queen for me. I’ve loved every one of their albums. I mean, the way they’ve changed their sound just in the past few years alone. They’re always transcending. Never afraid to try out something new or weave a different genre into one of their songs. But you always know it’s a Queen song. I saw them 2 years ago when they played the Garden, and fu--” You catch yourself as you get more animated. “And they were all just so on. Perfectly in sync. There’s something so distinct about their sound, so practiced. I’d love to get to their level, to be able to experiment like that. To give joy in the way they’ve given it to me.” You finish. Realizing you’ve rambled for a bit, you turn your eyes downwards yet again.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk since you came into the studio!” Alan laughs. “Well, you heard it here first folks, Y/N L/N is a Queen fan, just like the rest of us. I’m sure you’re just as excited about their new album as well.” You nod quickly as Rich hides a smile. Knowing full well you’ll be first in line to purchase their new album, Hot Space when it drops.

“But before you get off to writing more hits, I believe you have a tour coming up!” Alan states, signaling that the interview is wrapping up.

“Yeah, we have a small American tour starting in February. But until then we’ll be opening up for Hall and Oates during their tour of the NorthEast next month.” Steve says excitedly, bouncing slightly in his seat.

“And with that, I think we’ll roll into the long-anticipated music video and directorial debut for the lovely Y/N L/N. Thank you all so much for coming in today and I can’t wait to see what’s next on the horizon for you. Here’s Lo & The Limbs with Heart of the Night!” Alan keeps his painted smile till the red light vanishes from above the lens on the large pedestal camera in front of him.

You breathe out the breath you’d been choking on as Rich puts an arm around your shoulders. He leans in and whispers lightly, “And only one hint of a fuck, ladies and gentlemen. She might just make it in this business after all.”

- - - - - - -

One Month Later - Veterans Memorial Coliseum - New Haven, Connecticut

The Limbs bound off the stage in full force, glistening with sweat and excitement. It was the largest crowd they’d played for by far. 10,000 people cheered from the audience as roadies and crew moved around them to set up for the main act, Hall and Oates. Rich spreads his long arms and huddles the rest of the group into a family hug, your skin sticking to one another, the smell of sweat filling your noses.

“I just want us to all remember this moment.” He speaks to the group, foreheads touching. “Even if nothing happens past this album. That was insane.”

“Absolutely bonkers, dude!” Steve says and he bounces up and down beside you. You all take a deep collective breath and squeeze.

“Alright, get off of me you fucks.” You laugh, untangling yourself from their vast expanse of limbs. “We all stink and I have to get out of all... this” You gesture to the skin-tight bodysuit your best friend, Dawn, had insisted you wear. Eddie presses a light kiss to your temple as he lets you into the dressing room first to change out of their view.

You close the door and sigh, glancing at yourself in the mirrors that line one wall of the room. Your eyes are bright, your hair is two times the size of when you went out on stage an hour before, and your makeup looks like you’d been in a fight. Grinning to yourself, you start to unlatch the halter top of the bodysuit, excited for the air to cool your skin.

Just as you are about to shimmy out of the rest of the ensemble, the door bursts open.

“Shit! Lawrence, what the hell?!” Scrambling to cover your top half.

Lawrence trains his eyes to the ceiling as he speaks. “Bunny, you gotta… just cover up and get your ass out here. You just... You gotta see, c’mon.”

Flustered, you hurry to redress your sticky body. After making sure everything is properly covered, you step out into the hallway backstage, already glaring at the boys. They’re all tight-lipped, staring at one another. “Okay, someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” You say loudly. “Shhhhh” Rich hisses as he gestures behind him with a shake of his head. You glance over his shoulder to see the backs of two men. John Hall and Daryl Oates.

“Yeah, okay... I don’t get it. We’ve hung out with them like 5 times. Why are we fangirling?”

Rich widens his eyes at you and you glance back at them again. This time they part and you can catch a glimpse of who they’ve been talking to.

The flash of a tight leather jacket, a mustache, and two front teeth shining while laughter erupts from behind them.

You gasp.

“Fucking, fuck. That’s Freddie fucking Mercury.” You say, a bit too loud.

The bold man in question locks eyes with you. Something mischievous dances behind them as he narrows his gaze. Daryl and John move to their roadies to get fixed up before heading out on stage and Freddie lets out a sharp burst of laughter as he makes his way over. Your stomach churns with embarrassment but you can’t tear your eyes from his.

“Quite the redundancy of expletives, my dear. All you had to do was say hello.” he grins at you, all teeth. You’re not one to get too clammy in front of other musicians, but your voice gets trapped in your throat. You pray to whatever gods are out there that your eyes don’t get any wider.

Eddie’s easy charm luckily saves you. “This beautiful songstress right here is Y/N L/N.” You barely lift your arms as Freddie pulls you in for a light hug and kiss on the cheek. “But you can call her Bunny.” Eddie grins. So much for easy charm you think as you stare daggers into the profile of his face.

“Ha! Bunny? Oh my, that is wonderful.” Freddie chuckles. “It sounds as if you’re a socialite... Or a stripper. I can’t tell.” He beams at you. You can’t help but beam right back.

“Come along. Let us watch the show and you can tell me which one it is.” He says with a wink. “And introduce me to these giants you call your band.” He grabs your arm and leads you off, the boys in tow. Bouncing with excitement for what’s to come.

[freespeechwyngro]

[the following is a submission via discord to the blog. This is not an official statement from FSW]

I didn't start the discourse about the Ori, a friend of mine decided to call it out as being appropriation on the tumblr thread after I said that it was disrespectful in a DM, while I was writing a ticket to explain the issue to staff.

The first message was sent out by the friend on Free Speech Wyngro, they wanted to beat the drums a bit and rustle feathers on free speech to bring attention to it on my behalf, but I told them they were jumping the gun.

It's now stirring up a very complex issue.

So, let me bring in some perspective.

Non-aboriginal individuals using Aboriginal Art motifs for commercial use has been a serious topic for decades here, that's 100% true. The aboriginal people have been attempting to reclaim the aboriginal identity which was lost during the Stolen Generation and many younger Aboriginal-Descendant Australians (like myself) are now reconnecting to their lost communities and heritage, mostly through the use of art and media. However, Aboriginal Art is completely inundated with fake tourist trinkets, foreign replications and fakes which are only there to make a quick buck. It undermines Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander culture and the role of communities in sharing cultural knowledge, denies Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander artists economic & other opportunities, deceives and misleads buyers into believing they have authentic art and it disadvantages ethical businesses who sell ethically produced and authentic Indigenous art.

It's a particularly important topic in the art world of Australia to allow protect the artistic rights of the aboriginal population and to refrain from Aboriginal Australian artwork being sold/reproduced by non-indigenous people/companies. We are currently in the middle of making laws about it but extreme opposition (mostly overseas companies) has come up several times in the past few years to oppose the bill.

"Oh but other wyngros have spots and lines similar to Aboriginal Art style" and saying it's "just lines and dots" is extremely narrow-minded. This is the same commentary of "hahah funny aboriginals are so primitive and just use basic shapes they're just lines and dots" that has been used for centuries in real attempts to denounce paintings at sacred sites and for non-indigenious companies to skirt the very real issue of Fake Art. I am **not** saying thin lines and dotting patterns need to be removed from your wyngros, they are absolutely fine to have and I have NEVER seen any member or staff owned wyngros where I could confidently say they are based on Aboriginal Art.

I noticed that the Kicking Kanga Ori had a Australian Aboriginal Art motif around it's neck and wanted would shed a lesson about Aboriginal Art so staff are aware in the future if similar Aboriginal-inspired designs which come through and to edit the current Ori to something more appropriate. I reached out with the owner of the Ori and also explained my issue and we have made a beautiful compromise, I absolutely respect their maturity during the whole ordeal and appreciate what they have done for me.

The 2nd solid line with the smaller dots are used to represent *star* or *the sun* in both traditional and contemporary pieces. The name *Kicking Kanga* and it's colours are directly referring to Kangaroos/Australia. I have shown the Ori to my best mate from the Darug nation (Southern-East Coast of Australia, Sydney), who agrees that YES, it is Aboriginal (and called it garbage). You can see this isn't a stretch of the imagination to say there are lifted from Aboriginal Art. I know that someone made mention that it looks like Polynesian art and I don't understand how would that make it more reasonable to be used. I don't have the knowledge to explain Tatu, but I implore that you research any traditional art style before applying it onto any design. It can compared to slapping on a totem, native headdresses or thunderbird to sell a magnet or a hippie on the side of the road trying to sell you dream catchers.

I understand if the artist involved were possibly not aware of the socio-economic problems surrounding fake Aboriginal Art. Yes, I find it disrespectful for an American/Possibly-Non-Indigenous Australian using the art style without understanding the surrounding issues, and yes, I'm upset that the community think that they've destroyed some over-sensitive white girl when it's an honest, complex and personal issue for someone active in the community. I'm trying to put on a brave face on the Discord, I've sadly resigned to the fact that staff's reply was "it's just lines and dots."

Just as so many others have done.

I apologise if the Australian artist truly is Indigenous and has permission to rightfully use the style, they should also speak to staff about writing a disclaimer about the issue on the ori's description and add that it was created and designed by an indigenious. If not, I recommend editing the design.

Resources on Aboriginal Art Theft:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYL4Sz_LxOA

http://honisoit.com/2021/03/stolen-art-on-stolen-land-aboriginal-art-and-copyright/

*"It is wrong to think of Aboriginal art as a collection of design elements that are free to use. When non-Aboriginal people copy an artwork without permission or attribution, it can profoundly harm artists and denigrate the meaning of their imagery and its cultural significance. It is also a misappropriation of culture."*

Source: Fake or real? Aboriginal art authenticity - Creative Spirits, retrieved from https://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/arts/aboriginal-art-authenticity

For those who are interested in supporting aboriginal art, please ask the the seller about the culture surrounding the artwork to prove authenticity such as:

Which part of the land they come from

Who the designer or artist is

If there is any certificates to prove authenticity (almost always added with commercial pieces)

I am confident that the designer and Owner had no intent to be offensive, but rather are unaware of the deep situation and wanted to create an Australian-themed design.

[fvlminare]

✗✗✗   you see [ camille rivas ] around lately? yeah i heard that the [ cis female ] is up to no good. [ she / her ] has been here for [ three years ] now but they’re still pretty [ calculating ] which is fine because they’re also [ ardent ] so it balances out. the [ twenty-six ] year old [ dancer at mayhem ] actually looks like a lot like [ sofia carson ], don’t you think? it’s best to watch out, though, because it’s been said that they’re really into [ the rush of cocaine in her veins & a vice grip on her throat ]. 

henlo it me again! i hope u guys aren’t sick of me yet bc here’s my other bb! say hello to my boss-ass bish gal camile! she’s sassy, classy and a lil badassy. she’s a rather feisty, fiery, ball of rage and anger who cba with ur bullshit tbh n she’ll tell u this too if u piss her off enough! she’s lowkey cutthroat and always out for number one, aka: herself. but, i mean, she does have some redeeming qualities and her hair is bomb af so that makes up for it all really, doesn’t it? basically that meme: ‘ she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’ll punch you in the face. ’ anywho, you know the drill, slap a lil luv on this n i’ll come pester u for all the good stuff : - ) 

fundamentals.

CAMILLE ALARA RIVAS     —     twenty-six, dancer at mayhem,   +   an honest-to-god vixen   /   hellcat   /   lil demoness ! 

aesthetics   ➤   dresses of black lace and red velvet, the scent of chanel perfume lingering in the air as she floats past, blood-red fingertips coiled around the pistol grip of a gun, red-bottomed heels clicking against marble floors, rose gold highlighter shimmering along the height of prominent cheekbones, satin dresses draped over a svelte frame that is shrouded in an air of mystery and intrigue, baby pink roses in a vase on the window sill, deft fingers stained with charcoal and oil paint, the melodic chime of piano keys, delicate digits adorned with moonstone gem rings, a coy smile spread across full crimson lips, long raven locks blowing in the cool breeze of a summer’s evening, battered books with dog-eared pages, a sense of freedom and carelessness when dancing for fun, & a sense of allurement and captivation when dancing for work.

nicknames. cam, cami, mil, millie, spawn of satan >:~)

date of birth. april tenth.

gender. cis female.

pronouns. she + her.

birthplace. manhattan, new york.

orientation. pansexual + demiromantic.

education. bachelor of dance degree obtained from nyu tisch school of the arts.

spoken languages. can speak fluent english, spanish, & latin.

negative traits. capricious, ornery, impulsive, guileful, caustic, brusque, obstinate, destructive, deceptive, & promiscuous.

positive traits. ardent, whimsical, intrepid, graceful, poised, elegant, headstrong, observant, independent, & confident.

strengths. optimistic, energetic, creative, practical, spontaneous, rational, knows how to prioritise, great in a crisis, & relaxed.

weaknesses. stubborn, insensitive, private, reserved, easily bored, dislikes commitment, & has a rather risky behaviour.

talents. ballet, knife throwing, hand-to-hand combat, horse riding, figure skating, piano, violin, painting, singing, & dancing.

physiology. hazel eyes. dark brown hair. five feet, four inches tall. of a petite, slender stature with subtle curves and long hair. has a long silvery scar on her back. her skin is clean of any tattoos. has both earlobes pierced. requires glasses but wears contacts most days. is right-handed.

psychology. aries zodiac. fire element. ravenclaw house. istp-a. true neutral. type seven enneagram. choleric temperament. intra-personal intelligence type. addicted to alcohol, tobacco, and cannabis. suffers from addiction and abandonment issues. her vices are lust, greed and wrath. her virtues are ... ( again ) honestly, probably just diligence tbh.

background.

possible triggers   :   child abandonment, abandonment issues, foster homes, alcohol, drugs, violence, gore, blood, murder, & death.

a synopsis.   ok so for this gal, let’s all give a big, warm welcome to sadness ( no, i was in no way at all inspired by salem from sabrina for that line ) bc boy oh boy, her life has been constant grief and pain, tbh. strap in for the bumpy ride, i’ll give u cookies for compensation. OK SO, camille was abandoned as a baby, never did—and still doesn't—know her biological parents and she doesn’t want to either, tbh. she bounced around from foster home to foster home, never sticking in one place for too long. given her turbulent upbringing, she was somewhat of a difficult child. too boisterous, too unruly, too stubborn, too inquisitive. too much of everything but never enough of anything. never enough for anybody to want her. it didn’t take the girl too long to figure out that it was just her alone, against the big bad world. from the age that she was old enough to realise it, camille knew that she had to fend for herself—that she could never truly rely on a single soul but herself. the hollowness inside her chest never quite satiated, leaving her empty and only too well aware of the lack of her real parental figures. as a young adolescent, this started to crawl under her skin and mess with her mind. it rendered her void of affection and unable to form genuine bonds with others—filling her with deep-rooted resentment that festered beneath the surface of the indifferent demeanour she plastered over herself every day. she always felt starved of love: as if some integral part of her heart was missing, leaving a gaping void that nobody could ever fill. anywho, she fell in with the wrong crowd which did little to aid her foster families hostility toward her. truthfully, most of her experiences in various homes were ... not pleasant. she’d encountered abusive ‘parents,’ horrible ‘siblings,’ and even worse schooling days. pressing the self-destruct button is this gal’s speciality thus she found herself gravitating towards her vices: things and people she knew were no good for her. drink, drugs, people, you name it. quickly, she realised that these things were no longer any good at keeping her dark side at bay: she needed something more, something deeper. thus, she began going down the road of petty crimes—stealing cars, smashing windows, theft, setting fires both metaphorically and literally. due to this lifestyle, she wound up entangled with some real shady folk who did … even shadier things. most specifically, she started dating a real jackass who was violent and truthfully, a horrible person, really. stupidly, she decided to run off into the metaphorical sunset with him * insert eye roll emoji here. * so, fast forward a year or so and things took a swift nosedive when her lowlife boyfriend’s hands were round her throat and not in the kinky way. while she’d clawed at him and tried to fight him off, she struggled against his weight and strength until, eventually, she lifted the first makeshift weapon she felt: a rusted pair of scissors. [ TRIGGER FOR VIOLENCE, GORE, BLOOD, MURDER, DEATH ] and, in a blind state of panic, she jammed them right into his jugular vein, his blood squirting out and decorating her face in crimson splatters. he’d stumbled backwards, clutched onto his neck, blood spurting from the webs between his fingers. naturally, camille was shook about this but somehow managed to flee the scene with less guilt rattling her soul than she’d imagined. [ TRIGGER OVER ] in her mind, it was an act of self defence. it wasn’t too long after the incident that she found herself in a rather perilous situation that resulted in her sudden realisation that she needed to get her damn life on track. therefore, she done the responsible adult thing and got herself a decent education. somehow, she managed to get into university where her life started to shape into a positive one—the kind she’d always dreamed of. once she graduated, camille decided that she wanted to see the world. following a couple of years travelling, she wound up in santa ysabel where she quickly fell into the employment of mayhem. admittedly, this was a far cry from the future she’d envisioned when she was just a sweet, innocent lil child. still, all in all, she kind of digs who she is and what she is: after everything she’s been through, she loves herself. it’s been a long and winding road but camille finally believes that she’s settled in her life now. tho she still refuses to let people in, her abandonment issues terrifying her to the degree that she feels that anybody she’d ever let into her life would eventually leave her in the end. * insert sad face emoji here. *

random extras.

her tell? playing with her hair: when she’s lying, nervous, flirting—you name it!

can drink any man under the table. 

she loves art in every form: paintings, sculptures, music, dance, people, etc. she loves the freedom that expressing herself through these mediums gives her.

she’s ... experimental. she’s experimented with just about everything: hairstyles, clothing, drink, drugs, people ...

can be hella calculating and vindictive so do not cross her.

quite power-hungry tbh.

she does have a shot at redemption but she doesn’t want it lmao. she’s already been to hell so why bother trying to right her wrongs?

and boy, are her wrongs a century-long list shkjsh.

high key is not above killing people who don’t do things her way.

doesn’t believe she’s capable of loving anyone.

she’s lowkey a perfectionist to the point of being ruthless, also cutthroat and egotistical.

if ya ain’t of use to her, then what the heck is ur purpose???

she’s v ambitious, v morally ambiguous, v self-serving and v self-involved.

she can be ... aggressive sometimes and most definitely has anger issues.

dry sense of humour one million per cent.

her signature look is her blood-red lips.

extremely skilled with knives and blades. and always carries one on her person at all times.

her most prized possession is her brushed chrome zippo lighter. it has her initials engraved into it and where she got it from, or who is something she’ll never tell.

always says she needs to quit smoking but never does and probably never will either.

did someone say ... resting bitch face???

tho when she smiles it’s like sunshine uwu

high key will sleep with anyone.

first place is the ONLY acceptable place, ok??? 

one of those people who just excels at everything she tries her hand at.

absolutely adores animals. much prefers them to humans.

she’s quite adventurous and loves to feel the adrenaline in her blood.

doesn’t take herself or her life too seriously.

always up for a good time and is usually the life of the party.

outspoken and quick-witted with a sharp tongue.

much too sassy and sarcastic for her own good.

really, she does what she wants to, when she wants to, without seeking the approval of others.

truthfully? she’s a bit of a spitfire if you really irk her. so, watch out.

you can find a pinterest board for her by clicking anywhere here.

[cavehags]

do you have any articles you’ve read that accurately explain why you hate weddings and why they’re bad for women? i agree but i find it so hard to put in words so i need some ref

anon I want to have these resources for you!!! I do!!! but I have never found many compelling articles on this topic, and not for lack of trying. so I’m gonna try and gather up the ammo myself by going topic-by-topic, if I can. my hope is to give a holistic view of just some of the many, many harms marriage imposes on women. cw sexual assault, pedophilia, misogyny, abuse, basically everything bad.

i think a lot of people see marriage the way it’s practiced by 20- to 30-somethings in the coastal united states today as pretty much the only relevant snapshot of the tradition. if you’re a certain type of person, weddings make marriage look pretty good! most people enjoy lavish parties that someone else paid for. and almost everyone has, knowingly or not, been exposed to a lot of propaganda that states that a wedding is the happiest day of a couple’s life, that women in particular are or deserve to be in a state of bliss on their wedding day, and that all the trappings associated with weddings, from purchasing expensive dresses to purchasing expensive tablecloths, are fun expressions of the couple’s creative side. obviously this is marketing dialed up to eleven and none of it is true. further, people like to argue that because brides tend to take the more active role in wedding planning, therefore weddings are in some way a feminist practice (????). this is total nonsense. for a start, weddings put women on display as physical objects–just think of how much marketing goes into the idea that a bride should look perfect on her wedding day, with a dedicated stylist and hairstylist, a team of friends and relatives to get her dressed, and a dress that cost at least $1,600 on average (i’m not linking to theknot dot com but trust me, that’s what it says). don’t forget that there will be a photographer and a videographer there to capture the bride at her most beautiful. and you only have to google “wedding crash diet” to see how how beauty standards of thin bodies are a singular focus of obsession by the wedding industry.

putting women on display for their physical apperance disturbs me. enforcing the idea that finding a man produces the most beautiful day of a woman’s life also disturbs me. and marketing that pretends that the happiness of a couple is in some way connected to how much they spend on a big, dumb, sexist party also disturbs me. but that’s just weddings.

i could put aside my issue with weddings if weddings weren’t just the first day of marriage. because my real issue is with marriage. so anon, i’m going to take you on a tour of everything that sickens me about marriage to put all my wedding hatred into context for you.

marriage is an ancient practice and misogyny is embedded in basically every variant of marriage ever practiced in the world. the commercialized, commodified weddings practiced by affluent couples in the west today just put some gloss and propaganda on the old tradition. but the skeleton of the tradition is really fucking ugly and hateful towards women. and the more you examine how marriage plays out today, the more you see that that hasn’t gone away. and it never will.

let’s start with the basics. historically, marriage as an institution has reinforced the myth of male superiority by giving tangible structure to what was previously just a notion–the notion of gender roles. if a home contains one man and one woman (often a girl, really, but i’ll get to that), then it naturally follows that a man’s role is to contribute x, y and z to the household, while women contribute… uh, a through w at the very least. and often x, y and z too. so you’re immediately left with a society where men are expected to be active and women are expected to be passive. that mandated passivity erodes choice and freedom and consent.

many forms of early marriage permitted men to have multiple wives while women were of course tied to their one husband. across the board, the minimum legal age for marriage has been lower for girls than for men, since long before anyone understood fertility patterns; though it may have been stated in some cases that this is because women “mature faster,” the real reason is that men were expected to have established themselves and their wives were expected to be young, inexperienced and virginal. across the world, married women have often been treated as if the act of marrying a man symbolizes passing from one guardian to another; this is clear even from an extremely common ritual still practiced today–the changing of the bride’s last name to match her husband’s. and worldwide and throughout histories, legal systems have granted husbands the right to control their wives and everything in their orbit. this includes the practice of marital rape.

girls and women have always been denied choices and agency through the constraints of marriage. child marriage is an obvious example. in many parts of the world, girls as young as seven years old (which was the minimum in the united states in 1880, btw) have been forced to marry adult men. marriage is the only cultural ritual practiced in large numbers today that transforms what would be viewed as sexual assault on a child one day to a private family matter the next. child marriage is slavery and still takes place in 50+ countries today, including the US. child brides, who are often from poor families, are thrust out of their homes generally because their parents are looking to eliminate the financial burden of raising a girl. but in their new marriages, they are subject to violent rape and domestic violence, dangerously young pregnancies that put fatal stress on their developing bodies, and a host of inequalities in the law that permit their husbands to do whatever they want with them. marrying eliminates any chance of a young girl enjoying her childhood or pursuing an education. her life prospects are reduced to a short lifetime of unpaid domestic labor and sex she can’t consent to.

further, marriage between partners of any age is wrapped up in the idea that men must control women and girls’ sexuality. some have argued that the practice of marriage is commonplace for no other reason than to keep women’s sexuality in check. naturally, then, what we’re left with is a longstanding tradition of marital rape. throughout history, in many places, rape of a married woman was legally considered a crime against her husband and not the victim herself, as she was his property. extending that logic reveals that no husband could be found guilty of assaulting his property. so marital rape was commonplace, and was not even viewed to be a crime in many parts of the world until the twentieth century. through marriage and the misogynistic laws surrounding it, a very chilling sentiment was normalized: the concept that men are entitled to sex with the women in their lives. that perspective has not yet been fully destabilized. in a 2018 study of 4,000 british adults, a quarter of participants reported that they don’t believe marital rape is rape.

some other quick hits… the extremely widespread practices of paying dowries and bride prices further reinforce how marriage is understood as a transaction over a woman. and i wouldn’t want to overlook how the structured gender roles enforced through marriage resulted in trapping generations of women inside their home, where they were expected to do all the household labor and reproduce for as long as their bodies could support it. think of all the work those women could have done in the world, and all the worldly experiences that they might have had, if they were not trapped in their homes based on the idea that only their husbands had the right to experience the world.

marriage is a religious tradition that was eventually adopted by the state. but we already know that many religions were constructed by and to the advantage of men, and they are full of quite misogynistic traditions, including the ideology that shaped marriage rituals over the centuries. the state recognizes marriage and grants certain privileges to married couples that others don’t have access to. often these privileges can be life-saving, as in the case of the benefits pertaining to medical insurance. the legalization of gay marriage, and before that, interracial marriage, expanded the prospects of who was eligible to reap those benefits. however, there will always be limitations on who can enjoy those benefits–and use them to survive–so long as they are extended to married couples only.

and then suppose that a woman has decided that she’s seen enough injustice in her marriage and she would like to divorce. research shows that women face a great deal of gender-based scrutiny in divorce courts, and when men sue for custody–which occurs in a minority of cases–they generally win. and in cases of abuse, divorce is a costly obstacle to a woman escaping with her freedom. some abused women have said that the time-intensive process of divorce put them off of leaving. the regimented structure of marriage was a trap that subjected those women to a greater degree of violence.

so! all this being said, i am adamantly against marriage. i cannot see a version of the practice that doesn’t just slap a shiny coat of paint over a violent tradition that has restricted women’s rights to a horrifying degree and continues to do so today. so when i see weddings treated as romantic and aspirational and objects of envy in the media, i’m left feeling disgusted that this tradition is so often painted as good for women. wedding magazines are marketed to us. there are new startups emerging every day that promise to make the wedding-planning process easier, more fun, more romantic. i just can’t see the romance in women’s continued subjugation. 

anyway. i hope this was helpful. there are lots of BOOKS you can read with plenty of history on marriage: i just read who cooked the last supper?: the women’s history of the world by rosalind miles and there’s in depth discussion of the many abuses women were subject to under the laws governing marriage. you might even look to the wikipedia page for criticism of marriage to start more research.

[eye-raq]

Stop it girl

Erik X Black Reader.

Warnings: Fluff, regular shit.

Summary: Erik was tired, laying out on the floor of him and his girls shared bedroom while scrolling through his phone.

“You want me to buy you a new tapestry? I saw one the other day when I was out buying some new Jordan 1s”

Erik walked back into the bedroom with a bowl of milk, double stuffed oreos floating on the top. He had his dreads braided back fresh; his home girl had her own natural hair shop and cleaned him up nice with a fresh retwist and a tappered fade. He had on grey sweats that hung loose on his hips, and no shirt.

“What did it look like? You know I’m picky.” His girl, Blessing, was into anything bohemian with soft grunge. She had her hair in long thick dreads, soft curly baby hairs, thick lips, and a cute plump body, her chest and ass too thick for anything she wore and her cute muffin top didnt help either. She was squishy and adorable and sexy and Erik loved every roll and dip of her honey covered body. She was feisty too, and when she wanted something she didn’t hesitate.

“It has some type of galaxy shit going on, idk. Purples and pinks and blacks with these little ass twinkly stars, looked like Uranus or Saturn in the background, had a quote at the bottom of it in cursive.” He put his bowl on her nightstand before lowering to the floor with her, laying on his side before grabbing the bowl again. He stuck his index finger in the bowl, dipping the Oreos further. She was busy making waist beads, one nestled around her curvy waist digging into her love handles.

“You should have picked it up you know I love anything with galaxy shit in it.” He kissed his teeth, eyes trying to focus on the classic movie she popped in her VCR, “I cant believe you still have one of these bitches, it just got a little dust too, and it’s still functional.” His eyes lowered a fraction, sleep trying to creep up on him. That was his own fault too, staying up all hours of the night.

“It’s called taking care of shit of sentimental value instead of letting it waste away.” She spoke out, just finishing up her blue and purple one she was making for a friend her fingers were getting numb now deciding to finish later, and join Erik in watching the movie. She pushed everything to the side, crawling over to lay her head in his crotch area. Her cute chubby feet with toes painted a hot pink wiggled near his bowl. He scrunched his face, playfully swatting at her feet, “if you don’t get those fat ass feet away from me girl, looking like honey buns.” She swatted at his ass causing him to grip her wrist, “yo what I tell you about slapping my ass?”

She rolled her eyes, “and what I tell you about talking about my feet? Just for that you owe me a foot massage after work tomorrow.” Erik shook his head popping a moist Oreo in his mouth, “and what you giving me?” He tried to speak between chewing. She paused, mind in wonder, hands resting on her belly. Erik just eyed her fame, mouth watering from just the look of her thick short ass bunched up on him.

“I’ll think about it.” They both turned back to the TV, monsters ball playing and that one delicious scene almost approaching. She stole an Oreo from his bowl causing him to wine like a baby. “Ask first baby that’s all I ask okay? I spent money on these Oreos.” She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, “Erik bye.”

“I’m being forreal. Everything I have don’t belong to you, girl.”

“I have about five of your hoodies in my closet right now, E. I take what the fuck I want when I want.”

Erik did a double take, dropping his Oreo back in the bowl and causing milk to splash on her legs. Growling, Blessing wipes at her legs aggressively.

“Chill out! You getting milk on me!”

Erik playfully bites into her leg, “You got five of my hoodies? Where they at?” Erik gets up from the floor, walking over to her messy closet with jeans sling over the rail and shirts hanging off the hangers. Sliding through her clothes, Erik finds all five of his favorite hoodies freshly washed and wrinkle free.

“My all black exclusive lost tribe hoodie?! You serious? I thought I lost this shit and your chubby face ass had it the whole time?!”

“Shut the fuck up with your odd shaped head! You knew I had it don’t play dumb,” Bored, Blessing decides to continue making her waist beads.

“I should throw you over my fucking knee, babygirl. You agree with that?” As mad as Erik was he decided to leave the hoodies there because they were neat and unbothered.

“Stupid ass,” he teased.

“Shut up. You’re the stupid one.”

As soon as Erik made himself comfortable on the floor, Blessing started poking him in his dimpled cheek, twisting her finger. Erik swatted her hand away every single time, finally kissing his teeth and grabbing her finger with force.

“Stop it, girl.” He shoves her hand away, causing her to laugh. This only made Blessing want to continue. She takes her chubby feet and plants them on his shoulder, wiggling her toes obnoxiously in his face. His eyes focused forward but she could see the way his jaw looked like it was going to snap from how hard he clenched it.

“You get so mad for what? I can’t mess with you but you can mess with me?”

“It’s because I’m Daddy and you do what I say.” Grabbing her foot, Erik begins to tickle her feet, that annoying screech she always made loud. Blessing yanks her legs back so bad that she kicked Erik in the head, pausing with a shocked look and a hand over her mouth. Nothing was said but the anger on his face and the reddened spot on his cheek made her laugh so hard her lungs hurt. Even through her teary eyes she could see his rage.

“Nigga, you look like you about to burn my fucking room down!” She shook her head repeatedly, “I’m so fucking humored right now; tickled.”

“Hehehe hahaha shut the fuck up.” That was his come back and it clearly went on death ears because she kept on laughing and hollering.

“Big nigga why you always mad? Chill the fuck out,” Shaking her dreads, Blessing went back to doing her waist beads.

Erik got up from the floor, seating himself on her bed to feel more comfortable. She thought he was being a sour puss but he actually had another plan. Grabbing one of her plush throw pillows, Erik wracked her on the side of her face so hard her eyes closed and her face scrunched up in ugly surprise. His laugh was the golden one, clutching his stomach and stomping his leg.

“Bro you should have seen your face! Looking like,” Erik mimicked her look before bursting into laughter again, “you mad ugly.”

She could still feel the sting like carpet burn on her left cheek. Blowing out hot air through her chubby cheeks, Blessing turned completely away from him.

“You got my fucking eye burning and my face all hot! I kicked you by accident dummy.”

“You want me to kiss it big head?” Erik tossed the pillow back in place.

“I don’t want your stinky ass lips on me ugh,” Blessing shoves his face away.

“Wasn’t saying that shit earlier when I was kissing all on you in the car,” he grabbed her by her dreads, gaining power. She fought through enjoying the force he applied by keeping a straight unbothered face.

“Stop it, girl. Stop acting like you don’t want me yanking you up and shit,” Erik kisses her temple, soothing the burn from the pillow hit. He started swinging her from side to side, humming no guidance in her ear that made her wiggle. He couldn’t sing for shit but she loved it when he sung this new song to her.

🎶 I don’t wanna play no games, play no games, 🎶

“Don’t say that last part because you know it ain’t happening,” Blessing stopped him mid song with a bitchy tone, “You don’t plan on making me Blessing Stevens I’m still gonna be Blessing Jones.”

“Forreal, B? You know I plan on making you my number one forever. Remember that time at red lobster when I fake proposed to get free cake? I can do it again but with a big ass rock.”

She smiles despite her salty attitude, “keep talking, Zaddy.”

“Nah, don’t pull that shit now,” Erik let her go, “you fucked up Blessing.”

“How?!” She pouted, “You mad at me now?”

“Yup. Turn around.”

Blessing groaned, folding her arms, “fight me.”

“Which means come fuck me.” Erik corrected.

“Shut the FUCK up.” Blessing rolled her eyes.

“Which means come eat this pussy.” Erik bit his lip to fight a smile.

“You ain’t cute. Leave me alone.”

“So basically I’m fine as fuck and you want my attention?”

“Ugh!!!! I hate you!” Blessing turned to him, ready to hit Erik upside his head but he caught her hand just in time.

“I love you too, Baby girl,” Erik gripped her chin, “you know you a bomb ass girlfriend? All that crybaby shit and getting mad only makes me want you more.” Erik gripped her neck, pulling her in for a kiss.

“You can be mad at me all you want but your ass isn’t going anywhere. You’re mine.”

“Says who? I got options.” Blessing fucked up with saying that to him.

“The fuck?” Like flipping a light switch Erik’s aggressive nature surfaced again to make her weak. Taking his hand, he wrapped around her neck with one hand and his mouth dangerously close to her hear.

“The fuck You talking to?”

“Daddy, not you,” she rolled her eyes into her head to fake annoyance. Erik just stared at her with his hard ass eyes making her squirm.

“What you looking at?” Blessing asks with a slight roll of her neck. He just licked his lips, looking her up and down.

“What, I cant stare?” He just grabbed her up and said, “man, come here.” She followed him like she just wasn’t mad at him a few seconds ago.

“Tomorrow ima fuck the shit out of you cuz you been acting crazy lately.” Erik rested his head on the side of her face.

“Why not tonight?” Blessing was wet and horny now she needed some dick, some fucking love, her hard headed ass boyfriend.

“I’m tired, B.” His eyes did speak that into existence when she turned to look at him. She admired his handsome face even though his eyes were focused ahead and ready to close.

“...damn, yo ex dumb as fuck.” She stated, causing Erik to chuckle. Blessing turns back around, pushing her booty into Erik’s crotch. He gripped her hip to stop her but she just kept on going, rolling her hips like she spelling out coconut. Erik lets out a frustrated sigh at his dick disobeying him.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m just playing.”

“This is blasphemous,” Erik spoke in a fake surprising tone, “you’re molesting me with your phat ass.”

“Shut up you know you want me to sit this assssss on you,” Blessing spoke in a melodic tone.

“Blessing, don’t start this shit. I still got a fucking cramp in my neck from eating the pussy for an hour straight, my abs still burn from doing push ups in the pussy-“

“I don’t wanna hear that shit you got more stamina than a damn horse.”

“You don’t listen to shit!” Erik yelled in her ear, flipping her over on her back. He pinned her to the mattress, face all scrunched up.

“What, Erik? I told you i got options if you don’t give me what I want,” fighting a laugh at his frustration and anger, Blessing purposely moves her hips beneath him to force him into having wild sex.

“...Bruh im a fuck you up...you acting up...what’s your fucking problem? You need some dick? You need a hug? You need your pussy ate? You need kisses? Like tell me something.”

“You finish telling me to stop now?” She questioned while looking at him a hint in her eyes as to why she’s been acting up.

“You not getting no dick with that attitude then,” he lifted off of her, laying on the other side of the bed closest to the window.

“First of all, I’m sorry.” Her entire mood changed. She decided to act innocent even though she thought about riding the fuck out of him in that moment.

“Aight, So we good?” She chanced a look at him even though she knew that wouldn’t be successful. Erik just stared at her calmly, waiting for her response.

“Yes. We’re good. No more playing.” Blessing blinked up at Erik innocently.

“So that mean you ready to get your pussy ate again?” Erik sat up, taking his hands to pull down her bottoms. Laying flat on the bed, Blessing lifts her hips to help Erik out as he slid the right fabric from her round booty. Tossing it to the side, Erik went flat on his stomach, arms wrapped around her thighs to pull her close. Blessing shielded her face like always whenever Erik kisses her gently on her inner thighs. It was torture.

“Talking about YoU NEeD To Fix YOUrr AtiTude, first of all, nigga...eat it out of me.” Blessing couldn’t help herself. Erik slapped her inner thigh to calm her ass down but that also made her laugh. She was silly.

“Stop, B,” without a warning Erik started eating her pussy. Blessing locked up around him, doing that thing with her hands where she held him in place but at the same time pushed him off of her.

After Erik successfully shut her up and had her moaning, he laughs, looking up at her weak expression and says, “You good?”

Blessing couldn’t even respond to that smart ass remark because Erik’s mouth was back on her pussy like it never left.

“What happened to that attitude? All that make me shit? Like it ain’t shit. Like I won’t eat the fuck out your soul and fuck the attitude out your soul and never give that shit back?”

That’s all he had to say in that moment while she laid back and let his tongue crave her. Erik got her ass to stop now with his tongue flicking her clit. On the inside she battled to sass him but his tongue was hitting that spot so the shit didn’t matter anymore.

[almea]

this might sound really but i sorta stand by Weiss gets less hate because straight people especially straight men can believe a lot more that Weiss (i personally read Weiss as lesbian) is straight and Blake is a lot harder to read like that because they can see her relationship Yang but don't want to acknowledge it

I see where you’re coming from, and I can definitely see that being a factor, but I have my own extremely unpopular opinion about that.

I don't think Weiss has the best character development in the show like most people seem to. I think Weiss has had the most positive character development, because she starts off being the absolute worst and then becomes amazing, but her character development isn't particularly complex. Up until now, it’s been fairly linear. She breaks free from her father's influence and then she learns to be a better person because she actually has good people to help her shape who she wants to be.

And that leads into how that makes Weiss more palatable to some people because she doesn't really have to deal with any setbacks that make her "unlikable" like Blake and Yang have had to. After she gets over her initial awfulness, Weiss never really makes any mistakes or does anything that paints her in a negative light.

On the other hand, Yang is boring now that she's depressed and moody. Blake is awful because she's traumatized and doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Weiss just. Becomes mostly meek and quiet in volume 4 until it's time for TRIUMPH.

I love Weiss and I do think her arc is very well-written, but it's a lot less complex or controversial than either Blake's or Yang's.

It’s also interesting how Blake and Weiss were both abused, but there’s differences between how we see them with their abusers and that affects people’s perception of them if they don’t try to look a little deeper.

Like. We really only see Blake after she’s already broken away from Adam and openly defies him and refuses to be put back under his control. By the end of volume 3, we never really saw what Blake, the abuse victim, only Blake, the abuse survivor, if that distinction makes sense in this context. There’s hints in the black trailer, but they’re extremely subtle. This is why there are people who still don’t believe their relationship was ever abusive.

It also doesn’t help there were people who were fans of whatever perception they had of Adam and would have a reason to hate Blake for “hurting him.”

Meanwhile, Weiss hadn’t completely broken away from her father yet when we first see them interacting. He still had enough influence over her that he was able to force her back home, where he was able to control her again. We get to see how meek and quiet Weiss is when she’s under his control, and that makes most people sympathize with her because she’s so different from the Ice Queen we saw in the first three volumes. So when she defies her father, it’s a triumph.

It’s been a while since volume 4, but I’m preeeetty sure there was a bit of push back against Weiss after the scene that led to her father slapping her. There were definitely a few people who said she deserved it because he was her father and she didn’t have the right to talk to him like that. So based on that, I have to wonder if the fact that Weiss’s abuser is more of a concept than a character (I believe they’ve had three scenes together, not counting the still at the end of volume 3) is also a factor.

So basically I think if you don’t pay attention and refuse to read into some subtlety, Blake’s abuse is “easier” (in quotation marks because I really don’t know how people do it) to miss than Weiss’s because Blake’s never obviously a victim while Weiss is.

And Blake’s abuse also causes her to fallback onto bad coping mechanisms because that’s the only way she knows how to deal with what’s happening and the person who helped her the most was literally unconscious from losing her arm and wasn’t available to help Blake try to find a better way to cope, while Weiss...... isn’t just going to go back to being a racist brat after everything that happened. That’s why Blake’s abuse causes her to make bad choices and Weiss’s doesn’t. They were both abused, but it didn’t affect them in the same way because they weren’t abused in the same way.

[my-emotional-self]

Super Soldier Love Chapter 2

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC

Warnings: brief mentions of past domestic violence, swearing

Summary: Harlow has always had bad luck dating and felt she will never find ‘the one’.  Until one day when her friends sign her up for a “dating challenge” they found on the internet.  Begrudgingly, Harlow agrees and she finds herself moving into a large house with 11 other women.  The surprise? She was vying for the love of a certain Captain; Steve Rogers himself.  

A/N: I honestly don’t know why I’m posting this as only one or two people seem to actually like it. 

“Wow,” Steve breathed out as he and Bucky walked into what would be considered their new house for the next month at least.  Saying it was large would be putting it mildly.  The house was ginormous, but alas everything Tony did was extreme.  

“What do you guys think?” Tony said as he rounded the corner and came into view of the two Super Soldiers. The house was very modern and done in neutral tones.  “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”

The three men walked through the large entry way and right into the living room.  There were three long individual grey couches.  Two of the couches faced one another while the other was off to the side, making a sharp ‘U’ shape with a large black coffee table in the middle.  Along the left side of the house was wall the wall windows.  Outside was the view of the pool and hot tub, and the forest as well. It was quite a spectacular view.  

“So here we have the living room.  As you can see there is not a television in here.  That would defeat the purpose of getting to know the women.  In fact, there will be no technology aloud, except cell phones.  But I will be putting an app on their phone that will not involve any kind of social media, texting or phone calling.  Basically, all they can do is play games on it.  However there is a small media room right here,” Tony said as he opened the door down a small hallway off the living room.  “While here, the women can Skype with friends or family, but they will not be allowed to say any details about who you two are and the challenges they will be doing.  That will all be a part of the NDA they must sign before coming here.  There is also a small library I had built,” Tony said as he showed them a doorway from the living room.  Inside were two couches with a wall filled to the brim of books on a bookcase.  

They walked further into the house and into the kitchen.  It was all stainless steel appliances and a mixture of dark grey and black marble countertops.  The cabinets were white and as Tony opened the door to the fridge, freezer and panty, Steve’s brows rose at the sight of the vast amount of food that was already stocked.  “I’ll have people come every few days to re-stock the food and beverages.”

Tony, Steve and Bucky made their way up the curving staircase and to the second floor. “Alright there are four bedrooms on this floor.  I have decided to put each time into one bedroom each.  That leaves two spare bedrooms in case there is any drama and someone needs a break away from the others.”  Tony snickered as he continued on.  “Each bedroom has its own bathroom also.  So that’s a bonus.”

They made their way up to the third floor of the expanse house.  “And here we have your rooms,” Tony announced.  “Barnes will be in here,” Tony pointed to the right, “And Cap you will be in here.”  

Steve walked into his room and couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.  The room was very minimal, just like his old apartment. There was a large king sized bed in the middle of the room with two nightstands on either side.  The bedding was navy blue and the pillow cases were red. A large Captain America shield painting hung right above the bed.  Along one wall was a large dresser which a record player sat atop.  

Steve walked over to the record player with a smile.  Looking to the left, he saw a bookcase that was filled with records.  The opposite wall had the bathroom and a closet. There was also a door that connected his room to Bucky’s.  

“Steve this is fucking amazing!” Bucky roared as he bustled into his room.  

“Language,” Steve laughed at his best friend.  

Bucky smiled, shaking his head at his friend before he came and wrapped him in his arms.  “I’ve got a good feeling about this Stevie.  We are both going to finally find our dames.”

As the two best friends shared a moment of happiness, Tony waltzed into the room.  “This isn’t even the best part yet.”

The men frowned at Tony as they followed him out of the room and to a door in the middle of the hall. “This right here is a little something special I had built just for you two.”  Tony opened a door in the middle of the hallway, revealing an elevator.  

The three men stepped inside and took the elevator down into the basement.  Upon opening the doors, the two super soldiers smiled at what they saw before them.  It was a state of the art gym, designed just for them.  

“Don’t think I wouldn’t forget about your avenging duties,” Tony remarked as the two super soldiers walked around the immense space before them.  There were treadmills, weights and mats to spar on; it was everything they could have imagined.  “I still need you two in tip top shape in case we get called for an emergency.  Which by the way, you two will not be getting out of just because of the twelve women staying in this house.  If duty calls, then duty calls.”

Bucky and Steve gave Tony a nod, knowing just how important their jobs were to the safety of not only the women who will be living here, but to all mankind.  

“Alright.  Let’s get on to the last part of the tour,” Tony announced, waving his hands around in the air as the two soldiers followed him. They made their way back into the elevator and then down the steps to the first floor.  From the dining room there was a sliding glass door that went outside.  

The backyard was breathtaking to say the least.  There was a very large underground pool with a hot tub attached.  The hot tub alone could easily fit 20 people and the backdrop of it all was the forest itself.  It really made for a picture perfect date.  

“I can see myself in this hot tub surrounded by gorgeous women,” Bucky spoke as he grinned, running his hands together back and forth as Steve shook his head at him.  He knew Bucky had been a womanizer back in the day, but he also knew he was ready to settle down.  

Steve and Bucky would stay up late at night, talking about their past and their futures; Bucky admitting he wanted to find a dame to settle down with and to finally have a family. He didn’t think he would ever get that chance with Hydra and all, but ever since Steve found him and ‘rescued’ him, he knew he had that chance and he didn’t want to lose it.  

“So here is what is going to happen.  I want you two to get whatever personal belongings you need from the compound and bring them over.  You can stay the night here if you want.  Tomorrow night the ladies will arrive but I will need you to stay in your rooms. Once the ladies arrive and get situated, I’ll get them into the living room and explain how everything is going to work.  Once that is done, I will have you two come downstairs and that is when the fun will begin. God I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they realize it will be you two.”

~~~

“Are you all packed?” Jenna asked as she poked her head into Harlow’s bedroom.  

Harlow looked at her with a smile.  “I believe so.”  She had spent most of the previous night packing; too nervous to sleep.  She had her evening gowns in a special suitcase that Jenna had let her borrow.  Then she packed all of her dresses, date night and regular dresses into another suite case.  Then came her regular clothing that she normally wore; t-shirts and jeans, along with her underwear and bras in a duffle bag.  Last but not least, she packed her shoes and toiletries in one last bag.  She went over her list numerous times in the middle of the night, hoping she wouldn’t forget anything.  But then again, she hoped they would be able to ask for certain things if they forgot.

“I think I’m all set,” Harlow exclaimed with a grin.  Harlow grabbed two bags while Jenna grabbed the other two.  They made their way out of her room and down the stairs where Blair waited for them.

“Are you ready?” Blair asked with a mischievous smile.  

Harlow looked around at all her packed suitcases, taking one deep breath in the process.  She turned to her best friend and gave her a nod, “I’m ready.”

The three women piled into Blair’s silver Jeep and headed to the airport.  Luckily one of them had a vehicle big enough to fit all the suitcases.  

It was quiet in the car as Blair drove; Jenna in the front and Harlow in the back.  The closer they got to the airport, the more nervous Harlow got.  

“I can’t do this guys, take me back home,” Harlow quipped with a soft voice; her nerves getting the better of her.  

Jenna turned around from the front seat, giving a tight smile to Harlow.  “You’ve got this hun.  It’s just nerves because you’ve never done something like this, and it’s out of your comfort zone.  Trust me when I say this Low, you will be fine.  Think of it as a once in a lifetime opportunity.  You could very well meet Mr. Right.”  

Jenna’s words made Harlow relax back into the seat.  She looked out the window as buildings and trees zipped passed her.  Harlow’s mind began to wonder and she tried to push all worries aside.  She would miss her best friends, no doubt, but maybe this would be good for her.  It wasn’t that she refused to socialize, it’s just that she loved her two friends and it was hard for her to make new friends. She was always the quiet and shy one, never really opening up as it seemed hard for her to do so.  Because of that, she was worried that whoever she was vying for love, would not want her or eliminate her first.  

Harlow had a hard childhood growing up.  Her parents were always fighting, to the point where it turned violent.  Many nights were spent crying and hiding while her parents fought; her father sometimes hitting and slapping her mother. For years that went on, until her mother finally got the courage to leave her father.  Once her mother made a life for the two of them, her mother ended up getting mixed up with the wrong crowd.  By the time Harlow turned 20, both of her parents were dead.  Her mother from an accidental drug overdose, and her father from suicide.  

“We’re here,” Blair’s voice brought Harlow back to the present; her heartbeat racing in her chest as she realized they were now at the airport.  

“I think I see where you are supposed to go,” Jenna remarked with a giddy smile, clapping her hands together as Harlow and Blair both shook their heads at her.  Harlow looked out the window and sure enough, there was a man in a black suit holding a sign that said her name on it.

The three of them piled out of the car and each grabbed onto the luggage, hauling it over to the man holding the sign.  

“Umm, hi, I’m Harlow,” she voiced quietly, giving the man a slight smile.  

He smiled back at her, nodding his head.  “Are these your bags?” he asked.  Harlow nodded her head, pointing to the numerous bags her and her friends were lugging. The man quickly began to grab the bags and put them into a black SUV as the three girls said their goodbyes.  

“I’m going to miss you guys so much,” Harlow spoke, chin quivering.  

“Oh don’t cry sweetie. We’ll see you soon enough,” Blair chuckled while giving Harlow a big hug, kissing her head.  Even though Blair seemed intimidating to look at, she had the biggest heart.  

“And I think I read somewhere that you can still contact people, you just can’t spill any details,” Jenna chimed in as she squeezed her arms around Harlow.  “Just be yourself Low, whoever it is will end up falling in love with you, I know it.”

Once the women said their final goodbyes, Harlow hopped in the backseat of the SUV. “I’m Jeramiah by the way.  It will be about a two hour drive to our destination.”

Jeramiah seemed nice enough; the two of them making small chit chat to their destination.  As Harlow noticed they crossed the border into New York, yet again her nerves were starting to get the best of her.  

As they continued their journey, all Harlow could see was trees and forests.  A smile graced her lips as she felt most content within nature. It was her favorite aspect to paint and draw; forests, trees, moss and animals.  She used to love sitting in the large tree in her front house as a child, talking to squirrels and chipmunks.  They were also her best sellers when she painted them.  There was such a calming aspect to being around nature and Harlow loved it.  

“We’re here,” Jeramiah said from the front seat of the vehicle as Harlow’s eyes grew wide at what she saw in front of her.  

It was the largest house she had ever seen, surrounded by lush greenery and trees.  She smiled, feeling a sense of calmness rush through her body at the sight before her.  “Wow,” she gasped as Jeramiah pulled up to the front of the house.  The house itself looked brand new as she peered around at her surroundings.  

The vehicle stopped and before she knew it, Jeramiah was at her door opening it.  She gave him a large grin as she stepped out of the SUV. “I’ll grab your bags if you want to head on it,” he said while giving her a nod towards the front door.  

Taking a one last deep breath, she pushed open the door and into the enormous house.  All she heard was talking and giggles as she made her way through what looked like the living room.  She followed the voices and ended up finding about 11 other women standing around the kitchen island, drinking champagne.  

Before she could even introduce herself, another man in a black suit cleared his throat, getting their attention.  

“Now that you are all here, would you please follow me into the living room,” he said, his arm extended towards the way Harlow had just come from.  A few of the women noticed her and gave her smiles as they all made their way into the other room.  “My name is Happy Hogan and before we continue anything, I will need you all to sign these.”

He began to hand out paper and pens to all the women in the room.  Once Harlow got hers, she began to read it over, realizing it was a Non-Disclosure Agreement.  Some of the women began to talk quietly among themselves but Harlow just sat down on one of the large couches and read through it.  It was pretty basic, detailing that they weren’t to speak about what was going on about anything within the house to the media or to friends. But if the person won, then she and the man she was vying for love with agreed, they could then talk about it with family and friends; but to still keep it completely out of any and all media.

Harlow deemed it reasonable and she signed her name at the bottom of the page, handing it back to the man named Happy.  Once he had all 12 copies in his hand, he nodded his head and made his way up the grand staircase.  

Harlow looked around the room, taking in the beautiful decorations before she heard gasps from the other women.  Turning her head, she saw non other than Tony Stark himself walking into the living room.

“Good evening ladies, I hope you had a safe drive or flight here,” he said taking in the room with expanded arms.  “No I’m not the one you will be vying your affection for, sorry to break your hearts right there.  But trust me, you will meet them soon.”  ‘Them’ Harlow thought to herself in confusion.  “Now, if you will all follow me, I will show you to your rooms and once that is said and done, I will go over all the details of this little idea I had concocted up.”

All twelve women followed Tony up the stairs.  At the top, he stopped and turned to face them all.  “There are two bedrooms for all of you.  Six will be in one room while the other six will be in another. We have already separated out with who will stay in what room.  Harlow, Olivia, Charlotte, Elizabeth, Aria and Penelope, you will be in this room over here,” Tony gestured with his hand the direction of the room.  “And Destiny, Chloe, Hanna, Aurora, Willow and Alexa will be over here.  I’ll let you guys get pick your beds and then in, oh lets say five minutes, we will meet back downstairs.”

The gaggle of laughter couldn’t be ignored as the other group of six women, those who wouldn’t be sharing a room with Harlow, filled the air.  It was all high pitched squeals of laughter and giggles that hurt her ear drums.  

Harlow gave a sheepish shy smile to her five roommates before making her way into her new room for the time being.  To say it was large would be an understatement.  There were six beds total, two bunk beds and two single beds; all were twin size.  There were many dressers and nightstands lining the walls to make ample space for clothing.

The room was decorated in reds, whites and blues and felt very patriotic.  The walls were white while the bedding was all navy blue with red pillowcases.  It wasn’t something Harlow would use to decorate her room, but it was nice and simple all the same.  Looking around she decided to choose one of the bottom bunk beds, making her feel like a child again.  She would be able to possibly put a blanket or sheet over the side and make it her own little capsule of privacy.    

“Wow,” came a surprised gasp.  Harlow turned to see one of the girls standing in front of an open closet. “This is larger than my entire apartment!”  Harlow couldn’t help but let out a small giggle as she made her way over to the space. The girl wasn’t kidding, the closet was monstrously huge.  With Harlow’s clothes alone she wouldn’t even be able to take up a tenth of the closet space.

Yet again there was noisy laughter and screeches coming from down the hall.  “I don’t know if I can put up with that,” Harlow joked, shaking her head.  The girl who was standing in the closet let out a soft laugh.  

“I’m Charlotte by the way,” she said, making her way over to Harlow and shaking her head.  Charlotte had beautiful auburn hair that went down to the middle of her back; her eyes a pretty green.  She also had some freckles lining her nose and rosy cheeks.  

“I’m Harlow.  It’s nice to meet you,” Harlow replied with a smile. Turning back to look at the rest of her roommates, she couldn’t help but notice how different they were compared to the girls in the other room.  Her roommates seemed more quiet and reserved compared to the near constant noise coming from across the hall.  

“I guess we should probably head back downstairs huh,” Charlotte remarked.  Harlow gave a nod and followed her out the closet and down the stairs.  

Harlow took a seat on the couch as Charlotte sat down next to her.  Within a few minutes the rest of the women of the house came down to join them. The women from Harlow’s room were quiet while the women from the other room were talking loudly amongst themselves. As Harlow looked over at them, she also could tell they all looked much different from her new roommates.  Four out of the six of them looked like they were related to the Kardashian’s with large breasts and butts; all easily noticeable by the tight dresses they were wearing.  The other two looked like they came straight from a runway; tall and all legs.

As she looked down at herself, she was now beginning to feel self-conscious a bit.  She never had a problem with her body, even though she was average in size.  She never felt fat, but now that she was in a room with these women, and the fact that she was wearing skinny jeans, combat style boots and a plain black t-shirt, she was feeling timid and unsure of herself.  

Tony Stark came waltzing into the room, rubbing his hands back and forth as he looked around. “Alright ladies first things first. I need you to hand over your cell phones.”  There were groans coming from most of the women when Tony said that.  “I’m not taking them for good.  I’m just going to put software into it so you won’t be able to access any social media whatsoever.  It will also disable phone calls and texting to everyone except the person who’s affection you are vying for.  I promise you, I won’t see anything personal.  We just need to make sure that nobody tries to get around the NDA.”

Just then, Happy came around with a basket as everyone began to place their phones into it.  Harlow gave Happy a shy smile as she gently placed her phone into it.  

“Next, you might have heard me say the word ‘them’ earlier.  That is because, there is not one but TWO men in this house.  BUT, you will only be vying for the love of one of them. The ladies you are rooming with will be the ones you are competing against.  I will not be ‘hosting’,” Tony put quotation marks during the word,” this little challenge, but I will be popping up every once and awhile to check on things.  There will be challenges to score individual dates with your guy, and there will also be group dates too.  A day or two after the challenges there will be an elimination.  It may be one girl from each side eliminated, or it might just be one girl eliminated.  Either way, there will be at least one women leaving during an elimination.  Once you are eliminated, you are to pack your bags and then the software will be eliminated from your phone.  But don’t forget, you still must adhere to the NDA no matter what.  If you didn’t read the small print that had the consequences….well…that’s not really my problem.”  Harlow snickered when he said that, because she certainly read the consequences and she will be keeping her mouth shut for sure.  

“Down this small hallway there is a doorway and that doorway leads to the media room.  There, you will be able to skype your family and friends and talk to them.  But remember the NDA.  Don’t say anything about what is going on here, including about each other.  No names or anything personal about each other.  Got it?”  The women all nodded their heads.  “Alright. Without further ado, let’s bring them out shall we?”  Tony smiled widely at the women as they all stood up, waiting on bated breath to see just exactly who the men were going to be.  He made his way to the bottom of the stairs before calling out to them. “Gentlemen, your ladies await!”  

Harlow placed her gaze on the floor, taking deep breaths as she heard footsteps on the stairs.  Her hands were clasped together behind her back as she nervously chewed on her lower lip.  She could hear the footsteps getting closer; her heart hammering in her chest.  

She glanced up just as the two men rounded the corner into the living room.  There were gasps from everyone in the room, including her.  

“Ladies I’d like you to meet Captain Steve Rogers, and Sergeant James Barnes.”  

Tag List: @patzammit @pumbibaby @princess-evans-addict @mrs-captain-evans @guera31 @livslookingforloki @badassbaker @chrisevansfanfic @tanelle83 @xjjlex @joannie95 @brastrangled @notyourtypicalrose @sfreeborn @esoltis280 @poerebel @xxloki81xx @bornfortherainydays    

[toomanysurveys9]

How’s your day going? slow as fuck.

What shape is your face? i don’t know. round or oval. probably round?

What sort of computer are you on right now? hp laptop.

What’s your favorite restaurant? papa vino’s. SO GOOD.

What does your umbrella look like? it’s a harry potter umbrella! it’s mostly blue and it has a light on it. it’s so cool!

Do you share a room with anyone? my husband (although he’s been sleeping on the couch downstairs) and our two kids.

Are you superstitious? no.

Do you believe in astrology? i do not.

Take the vowels out of your name. What does it spell? mrln.

Do you eat breakfast every day? i try to, since i’m still breastfeeding, but i do not.

You can go back in time and slap one historical figure in the face. Who? hitler.

Do you have socks on? Describe them. i do not. i’m barefoot.

Pick up your cell phone for a second. Who’s your first text from? jacob.

Fourth missed call? a number i didn’t know.

Are you one of those people who has like a hundred apps on their phone? i don’t think i have all that many..

Have you ever been to the ballet? i have not.

Do you have good reflexes? not the best i guess. they’re nothing compared to jacob’s.

Do you have many internet friends? not many..

Do you think those friendships are on level with your real life ones? better lately.

Do you keep a journal? this is the closest thing.

Describe for me your ideal sandwich. turkey, pepperjack cheese, some mayo, and some sort of flavored chips. white or wheat bread.

What are some names that you like? wyatt, eliana, evelyn, oliver, alec, and adalyn.

Is there something you’re putting off doing in favor of this survey? i mean. not really. i’m currently doing rbt training while also doing this.

Are your friends generally like you or different from you? they’re pretty different, yet similar.

Link me to a picture you think is cute. i never link to pictures. i have some cute pictures i’ve shared on my page though.

Do you like blowing bubbles? it’s okay. i don’t like it as much as wyatt does. lol.

What’s the band that you love even though you know they’re awful? i don’t think there is one. if i like them, i don’t think they’re awful, and i don’t care if most people think they are.

Ever had a pillow fight? yeah.

What do you usually pick in truth or dare? when i used to play, truth.

Are you better at posing good questions or coming up with outrageous dares? good questions.

Vinyl, cassette, CD or MP3? mp3.

Do you coo over other people’s babies? yeesss. i love babies.

What is something that makes you very squeamish? blood. vomit.

Do you try those as-seen-on-TV things? not usually.

Has there been a celebrity death that really affected you? robin williams broke my heart.

Do you get the dressing on the salad or on the side? on the side.

Do you make lists, or are you more of an unplanned person? i love lists, but i’m more unplanned.

If you’re out of high school, have you stayed in touch with your high school friends? If you’re still in school, do you think you will? i’m still in touch with some although i don’t know how close we are.

Is there something you like to eat that most people think is gross? sour cream and onion chips with ketchup.

Do you have a lot of photographs of your friends? i do not.

Do you dye your hair regularly? i do not.

Do you think, if it came down to it, that you’d be able to kill someone? if it came down to protecting my kids or other loved ones, hell yes i could. and i wouldn’t even think twice.

Are you good at rating things? i guess so.

What’s a movie that you want to see? i don’t know.

What was the name of your third grade teacher? mr. miller.

Are you a competitive person? sometimes, but not usually.

Do you get into a lot of arguments? i don’t think so.

Do you like to go shopping?

for my kids or books, when we have money. which we basically never do. hopefully that will change.

Can you knit? i cannot.

Do you use the same username everywhere online or do you have a lot? uhh. i have different ones.

What’s something that you really like about yourself? most days, i’m a good momma.

Can you pass for older than you are? some days, probably.

Have you ever been in a situation where that was necessary? i don’t think so.

Do you talk a lot? i do not.

Are you a Facebook creeper? no.

What is a smell that you hate? vomit. dog farts.

If you don’t set your alarm clock or anything, when will you wake up? way too late. lol. in all honesty, it depends on my littles and when they get up. which isn’t usually later than 9:30.

Do you even use an alarm clock, or do you just use your phone? phone.

Do you have a ringback tone? i do not.

Do you watch Maury or Steve Wilkos or anything like that? not anymore. i used to like it when i was younger and stayed home sick from school. i don’t know why.

What did you get your best friend for their last birthday? i got jacob a game for his nintendo switch that he can’t even really play because of our internet. :/

What did they get you for yours? he let me buy new books!

Are you capable of finishing a game of Monopoly? yeah.

What is a word or phrase that you overuse? fuck.

What’s your favorite painting? i don’t have one.

Have you ever written to your congressman? not that i remember, but i might have in high school.

Did you get sent those free AOL discs a lot? yeah. well, i didn’t. but my parents did i think.

Are you allergic to anything? grass. and there’s a cough medicine they used to make.

What are you going to do now that you’re finished with this survey? maybe another survey. depends if this video about hipaa is over or not.