#but if nothing else i like the idea of dior getting to be... an actual person? and someone i can see having been raised by beren & lúthien

[iridescentoracle]

Hello! I am here to ask about your Dior headcanons re: the political cohesion of Doriath. 👀

Oh man, I didn't expect anyone to actually take me up on that!

(Okay so I got partway into writing this and then realized I should probably note up front that I tend to stick to the Silm (& LOTR/the Hobbit where applicable, but they... aren't, here) as the most authoritative version of canon, and I can get into why and where the nuances/exceptions are there (I do say tend to stick, it's not hard and fast!), but that's mostly a side note here: the point is simply that I don't really factor other drafts or the poetic Leithian into my take on Doriath, Thingol, Dior, etc, just what we're told in the actual Silm. I also read the Silm as an in-universe history text compiled by in-universe scholars, who, being people, are going to have their own biases and blind spots, even when they're doing their best to be accurate!)

So, this is a two-part thing: #1, there's the political cohesion of Doriath before & at the time of Thingol's death, which i talked about in the tags of the post that prompted this ask but is kind of necessary as context for the Dior part to make sense, and #2, there's the actual Dior headcanons. Both of these parts are very long because I've never really seen anyone else suggest any of this stuff and I want to explain where I'm coming from thoroughly enough that it actually makes sense to people who aren't me, but the TL;DRs:

TL;DR 1: I think Doriath was probably a hot mess politically after Thingol died, with tensions between various groups of Sindar and Laiquendi in the leadup to Thingol's death & Melian's departure, and more political tensions afterwards between those who wanted Beren & Lúthien to come be the new rulers, and those who thought they should stay gone, with someone still in Doriath taking over.

TL;DR 2: I think Dior became Eluchil, potentially at the request of some portion of the Iathrim, hoping to help prevent Doriath from devolving into civil war, and saw dealing with the Silmaril-Fëanorioni situation as a lower priority than stabilizing Doriath's internal political situation until it was too late.

1. The political cohesion (or rather, lack thereof) in Doriath prior to Thingol's death

So, okay, the thing about Doriath is that we don't actually have any real idea of like... how much the Iathrim liked being the Iathrim? We're never told about any intra-Iathrim conflict, but a) the Silm was probably compiled mostly by surviving Gondolindrim or their descendants, so they wouldn't know about anything liike that unless surviving Iathrim told them, and after the Second Kinslaying I don't imagine many Iathrim would've been eager to talk about how things had actually been tense/messy/etc when they could remember everything as having been perfect until it was ruined by the Fëanorionrim, and doubly so after the Third Kinslaying, so why would anything like that make it into the Silm?

and b) what we do know about Doriath is that it wasn't really Doriath as we know it until Morgoth came back to Middle-earth, and everything went to hell.

At the start of the first age, you suddenly get Doriath (the fenced land!) being the one protected area of a continent that used to be totally free and open. How many Sindar actually didn't particularly care for Thingol's style of leadership, or simply preferred to live nomadic lives, going basically wherever they pleased, until suddenly that wasn't safe anymore, and you were only guaranteed survival if you were close enough to Menegroth to be within the Girdle when it went up? ditto how many Laiquendi had no interest in swearing loyalty to Thingol right after their own king had just been killed, but again, made it to safety and stayed there over taking their chances on their own in the outside world?

I think it's entirely possible that there were always potential political tensions under the surface in Doriath that just... never got written about, because they never boiled over into actual political conflict, and so it was never the sort of tension that had any bearing on the historical record.

Except then Beren & Lúthien happen to the world, and a few years later the Narn, and in the blink of an eye suddenly the only king Doriath has ever had is dead, and the only queen Doriath has ever had is gone and the Girdle with her—and more than that, the only rulers the Sindar had ever had for three thousand years before Doriath existed.

And where a few years earlier I think the Iathrim would probably have turned pretty universally to Lúthien, now she's abandoned them for her human husband—and while she's my favorite character in the entire legendarium hands-down and I don't blame her, I think that's another place there might have actually been some very mixed feelings among the Iathrim that nobody wanted to admit to later because how could anyone have been upset with Lúthien—and on top of her abandoning them for him, I think it's extremely probable most of Doriath did not actually get over their xenophobia about humans in general or Beren in specific when Thingol did (we know for sure at least some of Doriath didn't, cf. Saeros insulting Túrin's mother & sister to his face), but again, who's going to admit to having had a grudge against the holy couple of Middle-earth after the fact, you know?

Conversely, there could've been a sizeable faction of Sindar who had been totally loyal to Thingol until everything happened with Beren & Lúthien, but who found his actions towards them and/or Finrod to be where they drew the line, and while (unlike B&L themselves) that faction stayed in Doriath, there could've been a new, additional tension on that front.

Finally, for all we know there were multiple factions within the Laiquendi of Doriath, with political tensions stretching back to before their king died, rooted in who-even-knows!

2. Dior

All of that, of course, sets up a very, very messy political situation for Dior to walk into.

The Doriath stuff is arguably more speculation than actual headcanon, but here's where the unambiguous headcanons come in: I don't think "Dior Eluchil set himself to raise anew the glory of the kingdom of Doriath." Obviously that's how it got written down, but bluntly, I can't see Beren and Lúthien having a kid that stupid or, like, power-hungry and arrogant?

What I can see is a situation where the messenger that brought word of Thingol's death and Melian's departure asked Beren & Lúthien to come take over as the new king and queen, we promise we're not mad about you leaving and we won't be xenophobic to your husband anymore we swear it's fine now pretty please, Beren & Lúthien said no, and the messenger either asked Dior as a second choice, or said "okay fine none of that was actually true but Doriath is falling apart and we need a leader ASAP and there's about eight different contenders* (mostly kinsmen of Thingol or Laiquendi) being backed by various factions and it's going to devolve into civil war any minute so if you care at all—" and Dior said "would I do?"

(* Ask me about my Galadriel headcanon)

I don't think Dior necessarily wanted to be king of Doriath, and I don't think he saw the throne as his birthright or anything like that; I don't think anyone involved, from Thingol to Lúthien to Dior himself, ever considered the possibility of Thingol dying and needing an heir! I think it's possible he was asked, or at most that he offered, and either way, I think he saw becoming king as taking on a responsibility for the sake of others.

(Which, like, "well here's a potentially impossible task that I'm going to take up even though probably no one thinks I'm actually capable of it, but it's my duty to help others as best I can" sure does sound to me like an attitude one might develop when raised by Lúthien "I kicked Sauron's ass cast a sleep spell on Morgoth and persuaded the Valar to find a loophole in the fabric of reality" Tinuviel and Beren "I stayed by my father's side as an outlaw to give my mother time to lead the rest of our people away hopefully to safety knowing I would never see her or any of them again (and then spent several years being a giant thorn in Morgoth's side for good measure)" Barahirion, where "apparently my grandpa I may or may not have ever met died, guess that makes me the king of a place i may or may not have ever been" does... not.)

I also think he either took on the epithet Eluchil, or was given it by whichever factions of the Iathrim accepted him as king, when he actually became king. Obviously he's going to be referred to as Dior Eluchil even before that in retrospect because that's how he's thought of later, but that doesn't mean it was actually a name he always had, you know?

The final thing is, I think if Dior essentially walked into a political situation five seconds from devolving into civil war, it makes his inaction regarding the Silmaril prior to the Second Kinslaying make more sense: the Fëanorioni have been sitting around doing nothing about the Silmaril in Doriath / with Beren & Lúthien this whole time, the letter saying "hey that's our Silmaril give it back now" is probably just a formality, and Dior's only been ruling for a couple years, there's still plenty of people dubious about whether he should be king at all, he might well be subject to at least some of whatever xenophobia remains about humans in Doriath, and in general all the work he's done on stabilizing the kingdom will absolutely come undone again if he screws up; he's trying to keep a kingdom from falling apart, the Silmaril thing can wait.

Of course, it wasn't a formality, and it couldn't wait, but why would Dior have known that?

#shrikeseams #replies #doriath #the silmarillion #dior eluchil #lotr #lotr meta #i guess? #character: dior #jesus christ this is so much longer than i meant it to be i'm so sorry #also my lunch break was supposed to end twenty minutes ago WHOOPS please forgive any typos i have no time to fix #also there wasn't a good place to stick this in #but i also think everyone in doriath probably has PTSD about thingol's death #(many of them may also have had PTSD already esp the laiquendi or those of the sindar who had to return to menegroth in a hurry #when the first waves of orcs showed up #but anyone who didn't already almost definitely does by the time dior gets there #because holy shit our king is dead the girdle is gone none of us are safe now and he was murdered before the girdle even fell #so have we even been as safe as we thought all this time or were the last couple centuries a lie?) #but yeah those are my dior headcanons!! idk if that picture of doriath or dior in particular are to anyone's taste but mine #but if nothing else i like the idea of dior getting to be... an actual person? and someone i can see having been raised by beren & lúthien #and he doesn't really get to be either of those in the silm and i rarely see him in fanworks getting fleshed out like other characters do #and i think that's kind of a shame #you know? #also yes i am completely ignoring that dior's name theoretically means ''successor'' bc like. why would they name him that #that is from an early draft and there is no way to know if ''dior'' would even have stayed his name #if tolkien had gotten around to updating all the names in B&L/CoH etc into modern Sindarin #never mind if it would have meant anything remotely similar #this is mostly a first-draft post written in one sitting in the space of 45 minutes partially while late for work #i have Definitely left many points out and i am sorry if anyone has questions about things i probably have answers / can elaborate further?

[timefight]

LOVER OF MINE (02)

SYNOPSIS note to self, don’t break a singer’s heart. their next album will be about you. charlie bushnell can speak from experience.

CONTENTS nothing bad, charlie jokingly blocks leah but shes unblocked the next chapter

NOTE nah im not making this canon compliant im lazy anyways crabbush = charlie, chanelz = dior, leahsaveme = leah, walkthetalk = walker, ijbol = aryan, andrewnotgarfield = andrew duh dont ask me to explain the usernames djfndndn (but i probably will) ALSO idk how to do dms/gcs/texts 😭😭 any ideas???

DISCLAIMER i don’t own these pictures, i found all on pinterest! also the reader’s fc is asian and reader does play cindy moon, aka silk, in the marvel universe but feel free to change that to something that fits you!!

charlie bushnell/fem. reader smau

series masterlist. prev.

hanihoney just posted to instagram!

Liked by ethanitup, icespice, dior.n.goodjohn, and 248,831 others.

hanihoney me because tonight’s over :( aaaa thanks for having me and ethanitup perform ‘about you’ for the first time ever… that song makes my brain itch. ethan, thanks for sharing the stage with me, it was the best with you <3 ily guys sm!!

tagged ethanitup

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user0 HOW MANY WORDS IN ABOUT YOU?

user1 ATE!!

ethanitup its ok even if all my fans paid more attention to u than me … you outshine everyone else too so what can i expect

hanihoney is this … a compliment i hear?

ethanitup shut up hanihoney

user2 omg are her and ethan dating ??

user3 no, just friends

user4 so they say👀👀 user3

user5 stop speculating abt ppls private lives weirdo user4

dior.n.goodjohn your voice is SO gorgeous😭👀 duet?

hanihoney dont have to ask me twice 👀

dior.n.goodjohn omg i actually cant believe you replied

user6 the way we are the same age and youve done so much more than me …

user7 who is dior?? and how does yn know her??

user8 i think shes playing clarisse in the new percy jackson series !!! and i dont think they know each other personally i just think shes a fan of yn😭 dior likes marvel

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crabbush what the hell dior…

chanelz WHAT? you don’t know that im the biggest fan of her 😍🥰🥰 i love her

shessogone just posted to instagram!

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shessogone how did his castmate find me

olivvy its not like youre the main character from a major franchise or anything

tatertitty why did you even respond too ^^

shessogone everyone kept tagging me in her comment!!! i didnt know what to do and it wouldve been obvious if i just ignored it bc i respond to a lot of comments usually especially if theyre from other ppl in the industry sjfndndn

ethanitup its not that serious bae shessogone

olivvy dont call her bae shes my bae ethanitup

ethanitup telling ur bf ur cheating on him olivvy

olivvy he said he’d understand if it was with yn ethanitup

ethanitup trouple???? 👀 olivvy

olivvy 👀👀👀 ethanitup

shessogone i mean if u dont mind me writing a song abt yall … 👀👀 olivvy

olivvy omg we can be the next haylor shessogone

shessogone oh my god fuck yeah olivvy

crabbush just posted to instagram!

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crabbush why do u guys hate me

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chanelz what are u even talking about

crabbush YOU.

chanelz ME??? what did i do crabbush

leahsaveme is this about her commenting on a certain someones insta post …

This comment has been deleted by crabbush.

crabbush SHUT UPP leahsaveme

chanelz WHAT???? leahsaveme WHY??? CHARLIE DO YOU HATE HER??? she didnt even do anything crabbush

walkthetalk wait who leahsaveme

crabbush oh my god

leahsaveme you DONT KNOW??? and its not exactly hate… chanelz

crabbush IM NLOCKING U DONT SAY ANYTHING leahsaveme

chanelz HOLD UP??? IMSG RN leahsaveme

walkthetalk WHO AR EWE TALKING ABOUT???

ijbol how do you not know did you not stalk charlies priv when we all followed him… walkthetalk

walkthetalk wait yeah but i didnt get very far tbh ijbol tell me anyways

crabbush DONT TELL THEM ANYTHING WHAT IS WRONG WITH YALL

leahsaveme i see you deleting the posts but i dont even have to have proof 😌

This user has been blocked by crabbush.

andrewnotgarfield you kinda did this to yourself bro shouldve just kept your mouth shut

crabbush shut up you know i dont think straight when it comes to her 😒 andrewnotgarfield

next?

🧾 © timefight

#luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #charlie bushnell #percy series #luke castellan #pjotv #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell imagines #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan pjo #pjo luke #percy jackson smau #pjo smau #smau

[mcu-coworkers]

Perfect

Summary: After repairing your relationship Kylian shows you why he is the perfect man for you.

Pairings: Kylian Mappen x reader

Warnings: None again.

A/n: Thank you guys for loving the first part to this I really didn't know where to go after but I really loved how this turned out and I hope you guys do too!xx

Pt.1

It had been some time since your encounter with Kylian, almost a year actually.

Since then you got back together but kept things very low key given the fact that you wanted to take things slow and the media tends to speed things up for couples.

Your friendship only lasted all of two months at most before Kylian began coming up with all these ideas to ask you to be his again to which you were happy to say yes to the first time around.

He wanted you to move back to Paris with him right then and there but you decided it was best to stay where you were in London given this was where your company headquarters were and you were needed here as well.

Nonetheless he was over the moon to have you back into his life; it didn't matter if he had to travel a couple hours to see you on his day off.

Kylian would drop everything and travel across the world for you if necessary nothing else mattered except for his future and that had you all over it.

It felt like it had been a while since the two of you were able to get some time away from everything so when you brought up the idea of taking a trip away from everything Kylian didn't hesitate.

“Amour, we are here.” Kylian said, shaking you awake slightly.

Smiling, you adjusted your head on his shoulder and looked out the window, Italy.

You were both very well rested but decided to relax in the vacation home until dinner time which by the way Kylian took the responsibility of planning with the excuse that you picked the place it was only right he planned the itinerary.

Just as you were done fixing your hair Kylian walked in with a rather large box with the words Dior spread across.

This man.

“Mon amour  I   have something for you.” he said smiling as he held out the box to you.

“Baby you didn't have to.” you said smiling you didn't know this was a gift giving vacation but as always Kylian never went a day without giving you a gift.

Opening the box you found a gorgeous silk white dress with matching heels.

“Kylian, this is beautiful,  I can’t thank you enough.” you said standing up to kiss him.

“You deserve the world and more my love,  I‘ll wait for you in the living room.” he said, kissing your head before leaving.

Watching him walk away you’d never felt more confident in the choice you made then and now.

Then it was the choice to give yourself another chance with Kylian and now you were choosing to finally take the next step and ask him to move into your new home together.

It was so hard to keep the secret for so long especially when you were looking and wanted to call him so badly to show him the homes.

But you wanted it to be a surprise and you knew PSG was keeping him busy so your only time to look was when he was at practice.

Smiling at the thought you turned back to the dress and finished getting ready.

Meanwhile Kylian was pacing downstairs with nerves that couldn't compare to anything in the world, not even the world cup final made him feel this nauseous.

He was ready for the next step and he knew you were too, or at least he really hoped you were because he couldn't wait any longer.

The sound of your heels took him out of his trance as he watched you stand in the doorway.

“Ready my love?” you asked, grabbing your bag for the night and slipping in the little box with the key hoping he didn't see it.

“More than you know.” he said, smiling softly leading you out the door.

The car ride to the restaurant was quiet but comfortable with Kylian holding your hand in his and massaging it gently. It was his nervous tick.

“Baby is everything okay?” you asked, squeezing his hand gently.

“Yeah? Why wouldn't it be? Just don't wanna take the wrong turn.” he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

You only responded with a slight hum knowing it was best to let him come to you when he was ready.

Finally you reached the restaurant and realized it was pretty empty, no scratch that, it was entirely empty.

“Kylian, you did not rent out the entire restaurant.” you said scolding him.

Laughing at your reaction he smiled, “ I   want you all to myself tonight my love, all the attention is on you tonight.” he said kissing your head as he led you to your table.

The room was absolutely breathtaking. It was full of carnations and lilies with our table in the center and the most beautiful view of Milan.

This man and his gestures were going to be the death of you.

You blinked away your tears wanting to save you makeup and Kylian moved quickly to grab your seat for you.

Kissing his cheek you smiled and took your seat across from him.

Dinner went beautifully and you found now to be the perfect time to give him his surprise.

You didn't know why you were nervous but you were, extremely.

Your hands began to sweat and you could only hope this was really the right time.

“Honey,  I have something for you.” you said with a shy smile.

“What? Mon amour no, this-” you cut him off quickly knowing where he was going.

“I've been holding onto this for a while so i'm happy to finally give it to you so close your eyes, please?” you said, waiting for him to listen.

Sighing Kylian smiled and closed his eyes.

Holding the box in your hands you put it on the table in front of him, “Okay now open.” you said.

This was it, no going back now.

Opening the box he was slightly confused looking at the key but as soon as he read the tag that had the address in Paris his smile widened.

“It's the keys to our new home Ky.” you whispered smiling.

“Mon ange if we weren't in a public restaurant right now  I   would tackle you to the ground and take you right here and now.” he said kissing your hand.

“Kylian!”

Laughing at his response you hoped the staff wasn't anywhere near.

“Okay now my turn.” he says walking into the next room.

As if he hasn't given you enough, Kylian comes out with three more white boxes.

“Oh Kylian.” you said accepting the boxes.

“Go from biggest to smallest my love.” Kylian instructed, you could feel his leg shaking under the table, he's nervous again.

Opening the first box you came across the most stunning pearl necklace with your mothers pendant right next to the clip.

Gasping at the detail you felt tears begin to brim your eyes.

“Keep going, my love.” Kylian whispered.

Nodding your head you set the box on the table and opened the next box which revealed two pearl bracelets each with gold pendants resembling your fathers cufflinks and you were over the moon at this point.

Opening the last box you smiled when you saw the pearl earrings to finish the set.

“Kylian, why are you so good to me?” you asked, turning to look at him realizing he was no longer in his seat but right next to you on one knee.

“Mon ange, You have been the light of my life ever since  I   met you, each day  I   spend in your presence  I   become a better man and now  I   hope  I   can become your husband and have the privilege to call you mine forever. Y/n L/n, Will you marry me?” and just then he opened the box revealing the most perfect ring you’d ever laid eyes on.

Any chance of containing your tears at this point were out of the window.

“Yes, a million times yes Kylian.” you said taking his face in your hands and kissing him through your smile.

Now it all made sense the pearls were for your wedding day but how your parents stayed quiet for so long is mind blowing.

Pulling away Kylian slid the ring on your hand and kissed you once more.

“Come, there's one more thing.” he said, pulling you out of your seat.

This man was endless.

Kylian led you to the  balcony which you assumed was usually filled with more tables but for the occasion he had the area cleared.

The night was settling in and the stars looked as beautiful as ever shining as if they knew tonight was meant to be magical for you two.

“Dance with me?” He said watching you admire the stars.

“The Kylian Mbappé asking me to dance?” you asked, smiling as you took his hand.

Suddenly you heard a trumpet somewhere close by yet you couldn't find him, you thought it out to be a coincidence.

Then you realized what song he was performing.

Kylian spun you around and brought you back to him holding you tightly as you laid your head on his chest swaying back and forth.

Nothing you could have ever imagined as a little girl could be more perfect than what Kylian planned for you tonight.

And for him you were eternally grateful.

“My love, my light, and soon, you will be my wife.  I   won.” he said, kissing the top of your head.

Kissing him once more you laid your head on his chest and closed your eyes taking in every second of this night as the trumpeter played ‘It's been a long long time’ in the background.

Needless to say, this night and this man were simply perfect for you.

#kylian mbappe #kylian x reader #kylian imagines #makes psg debut two days before brother kylian faces argentina in world cup final #kylian #psg

[redrose10]

Hey, here's the first pill to ease your anxiety

Member's fashion company is going under and only a collab can save them. Problem is, you, the Creative Director of the other company he aims to collab with, are not easy to impress.

Shenanigans ensue, where he tries to convince her to take the job

But what if the outcome is something else?

Basically OC has her Shit together and her A Game on and our poor member doesn't. 🤣

Here you go! I really hope this is okay. I know absolutely nothing about how fashion brands work. Thank you for sending the request! @sumzysworld

Tiniest little hint to some possible smut at the end

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Sir the quarterly reports are in and the company sales are down 54% from this time last year. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to hold out at this rate.”, Jin spoke slowly sliding the reports over to his boss, Jimin Park, also known as the the ceo of Filter, a once very popular fashion house that was slowly failing.

Jimin sighs, “I know, I know. I’m going to figure something out. We need to bring the brand back into the spotlight.”

“What about a collaboration with another brand? You know like Fendi and Versace or Dior and Nike did. Something to get people talking.”, Taehyung, one of Jimin’s top designers spoke up.

“That could possibly work. Let me think about it for a while and see where we go.”, he replied gently shooing the other two men out of his office.

Jimin spent days calling around to any and all contacts he had trying to get a collaboration going, but no companies wanted to associate themselves with a failing brand such as Filter. Jimin had one final number he could call, but he was really really dreading it. After hitting call he waited a few seconds before hearing a familiar voice on the other end.

“I’m sorry, you what?”, you laughed into the phone.

“Y/N, please…We really need a good collaboration to get Filter back in the game or we’re going to shut down and lots of people will loose their jobs. I really think working together with your brand can help save us.”

Jimin nervously chewed on his lip while he waited for your response.

You sighed into the phone, “Alright fine. We’ll meet in one week and you can present your ideas for this collab, but you better bring your A game Jimin because I’m not going to risk loosing everything for you.”

“Wait so we’re going to collab with Y/N? Like Y/N from Purple You Fashions? I’ve heard she incredibly hard to impress.”, Taehyung asked after being informed of the upcoming meeting.

“Well we’re going to try. It’s all we really can do.”, he replied.

Jimin along with the rest of his team spent the following week coming up with branding, markets strategies, new clothing designs, and anything they could think of to convince you that working together together would be a good thing.

Jimin stood outside your office trying to catch his breath with the few minutes he had to spare. Of course the first time he forgot to set an alarm since he was in high school just had to be the night before the big meeting. He took the fastest shower of his life, nicking his neck when he tried to shave a little too quickly causing him to be even later and also having an unsightly cut. He grabbed the wrong tie, but didn’t realize until he was already half way here so he spent the rest of the drive trying to convince himself that his tie printed with a chicken wearing dark sunglasses and the pun ‘What the cluck are you looking at?’ (a gag gift from his best friend Yoongi) actually looked nice and professional against his tailored suit.

After taking one final breath he knocked twice on your door before hearing your faint voice giving him permission to enter.

“Nice tie Park. I didn’t know that chickens were in this year.”, you smirked.

“Uhh yeah well you know me, always trying to be a trendsetter.” Quickly he took the tie off while you weren’t looking and shoved it in his pocket mentally smacking himself for not thinking of doing that earlier.

He placed a to go cup down in front of you, “Here Y/N, I got you a Caramel Macchiato. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hope this is okay.”

“With almond milk?”, you asked. “I’m allergic to dairy.”

Jimin felt his stomach twist, “Oh I’m sorry. I did not know that.”

You chuckled before handing the drink over to your assistant for her to enjoy.

“Sit down Jimin. I don’t have all day and we’ve already wasted quite a bit of time.”

“Oh sure sure.”, he said frantically trying to set up his laptop. He hit the power button and nothing happened. No lights no sounds. Nothing. He pressed it again and again, but nothing. Then his hand came up to smack his forehead. He’d forgotten to charge his laptop last night after double checking everything one more time.

“Sorry I seem to have forgotten to charge it. Let me just grab the charger from my bag.”, he awkwardly chuckled. He continued to dig around in his bag trying to find the elusive cord when like a truck it hit him that his charger was in fact neatly wound up and sitting safely in his kitchen drawer where he put it last night to stop his cat, Mr. Fluffybutt McWhiskers the fourth (yes that’s his real name), from chewing on it.

“Umm I really apologize. It looks like I’ve left my charger at home.”, he nervously chuckled.

Feeling kind of bad for the guy you decided to throw him a bone, “Call one of your team members and have them email the presentation directly to me. I’ll go through it on my laptop.”

Frantically Jimin called Jin and asked him to send the file over to your email. A few minutes later a notification popped up on your feed showing an email from a sender listed as Mr.WordWideHandsomestFace7. You chuckled, but Jimin just wanted the floor to swallow him whole at this point. Jin must’ve forgot to switch to his professional email.

You clicked on the link but no power point popped up as expected.

“Oh I am so sorry.”, Jimin whispered in disbelief. Instead of the presentation that he had spent hours and hours working on he was looking at an email he had sent to Jin in the early morning one day last week after a particularly exhausting night and one too many glasses of wine. He didn’t think his face could turn any redder.

You on the other hand found it hilarious and started reading the email out loud for all to hear. Detailing how Jimin referred to you as an evil snake queen that he’d still very much like to touch even though he knows he’d probably end up dead. Jimin groaned from his seat next to you and made a mental note to remind Jin to double check his work.

He knew everything was falling apart around him so he resorted to what he knows best. Last he heard he was still a legend at his old college for being the only person to ever get an A+ in Ms. Yen’s World Literature class and it was all thanks to his shameless flirting abilities.

After reading the letter you looked over noticing Jimin staring at you seductively. He had hit bottom lip between his teeth while his fingers gently rubbed a small circle on the back of your hand. Somehow his eyes sparkled like little diamonds. His voice lower and more sultry than normal when he spoke, “You know Y/N, how about we just forget this whole presentation and I can take you out for lunch. Get a few drinks. Maybe we can just discuss things that way.”

As you watched him smirk you seriously considered it for a moment until you shook that thought out of your head, “Not a chance Park. You’re not going to buy my business with flirting and some cheap drinks.”

Jimins shoulders dropped as he came to realize that he was about to loose his only chance. He started to pack up his belongings when you stopped him.

“You know I don’t think that it would be a good idea for our brands to collab. It’s just not going to work.”

He nodded, “I know Y/N. Thank you for your time though.”

“But I do know of this up and coming brand. They’re newer, but already making a ton of noise especially with the younger crowds. It’s called HopeWorld. The owner is a good friend of mine, Hoseok Jung. I’d like to get you two together and see about working something out. I think your two brands would compliment each other well.”

Jimins face lit up, “Y/N thank you so much. That would be amazing and so incredibly helpful!”

You smiled as you gathered your things and headed for the door.

“Oh and Jimin, I expect you to pick me up at 8pm tonight. We’ll go have dinner and some drinks and who knows what else. We’ll see how the night goes.”, you said with a wink.

He nodded in agreement as he watched you walk out the door before popping your head back in a few seconds later, “And maybe don’t wear the chicken tie tonight unless you want to bring it for uh other things.” You walked back out the door and he smirked to himself making sure the tie was still safely secured in his pocket.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts fic #jimin #jin #bts hobi #taehyung #bts crack #Yoongi #send requests

[zoeykallus]

clones and tbb preferences on their soap, hair stuff, scents, lotion, and stuff like that plss!

Hmmm, interesting.... Okay let's see!

I don't know who originally made this meme, there ar so many versions out there by now. Well it's not mine, but I thought it fits.

TBB + Rex + Fives - Body Care HC's (kinda x reader)

Okay all in all, usually all clones, including batchers, use the same standardized care products provided by the Republic. They all have the same odorless soap, shampoo, etc. Standard items, nothing special. But then they get to know you. Dating, a new world. It's time for the guys to find their own taste. Besides, and this is not insignificant, the guys want to attract and impress you.

Hunter

Hunter took quite a while to get used to trying out all these different smelling products, his senses didn't make it easy for him, for him the odorless products were actually perfect, and on the road the boys rarely had time to groom themselves accordingly anyway. But it's a bit more complicated now.

Since you showed up, he's been taking much more care of his personal hygiene and was toying with the idea of trying new things, finding his own scent. Besides the thought you could wirnkle your nose in disgust because of him, downright gives him nightmares.

Surprisingly, Hunter finds a preference for quite heavy, woody and spicy scents. His senses are getting used to them faster than expected.

His scents:

Azzaro - Wanted By Night

Zino - Davidoff

Paco Rabanne - 1 Million

He has also discovered hair care for himself. After all, he has relatively long hair, he is still trying out all sorts of things at the moment, but so far he likes this herbal conditioner whose name he can't pronounce the most.

Since he knows you, he at least puts cream on his hands regularly, he has the rough hands of a soldier, when he touches you he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable. He doesn't know that you actually like his rough hands. He has at least five different hand creams.

Echo

Has his problems with the choice of his products, his whole perception has changed since the citadel, he actually even perceives smells differently now and they also have a different value. However, this is something that he can not really grasp or describe.

He has chosen something lighter, fresh, lemony.

Balmain - Monsieur Balmain

Allure Homme - Édition Blanche

Eau Sauvage - Dior

Hair care he doesn't really need anymore. But skin care definitely, what skin he has left he likes to care for with Nivea products, he likes the smell and how it feels on his skin. Offer him to help, after all, he's got just one hand and it's a wonderful excuse to get closer.

Wrecker

Oh boy. He's very simple on the go this whole scent and care thing. Axe body spray. That's it. He likes it simple, easy, fast. If you want him to use something else, you have to go shopping with him, because the good-humored giant is hopelessly overwhelmed in the cosmetics department and actually not very interested. Maybe you just buy him a few products to try out, bring them as a gift… and secretly throw away the terrible Axe body spray… (yes it's terrible)

Tech

When it comes to personal hygiene, Tech has always been very clean. In fact, Tech does not sweat at all, which is probably due to the change in his genes. He has almost no body odor and very little hair growth on his body for a man.

Body care is important, and in fact he is very fond of the idea of skin care products other than the standard, even though he chooses to use lotions and creams with very neutral scents.

He finds the odor thing quite redundant at first, until he reads that scent can affect libido, attraction, and sexual appetite. Even in humans. He studies back and forth. Finally, he puts together his own perfectly tuned perfume, which is composed of your favorite scent as a basis and various pheromones. So don't be surprised if you are somehow always particularly taken with him. Our clever boy already knows how to wrap you around his finger.

Crosshair

Okay he will deny it, but all his products are from Hugo Boss/Boss. Because Boss is on the package. He thinks it's cool, but when Hunter teases him about it, he denies it. In fact, he likes the smell, but the first thought when he bought it, was just for the name.

He uses a silver shampoo by Loreal for his hair and Nivea for shaving.

Skin care in and of itself he doesn't do every day, most of the time he doesn't even get to, depending on the mission and area of operation, but when he does he actually likes to do it, usually with Nivea as well. Since he is also very sensitive to the sun, he has appropriate products for that as well.

His perfume is Boss Bottled

Rex

He is very routine with his grooming, he does almost everything he does a bit like clockwork, all according to plan.

Before he goes out and buys anything, he prefers to talk openly with you about it. He tells you honestly that until he met you, he never thought about if and what perfume he used. He wants you both to like it, so he goes with you to a specialized store and browses through everything with you until you find something suitable for Rex.

As soon as you have gathered everything together, he will enjoy the whole thing, especially when he sees how you react to his wonderful new scent.

Fives

Okay not only his room is a disaster. Fives likes to exaggerate with everything, unfortunately also here. He literally bathes in his damn perfume, you'll have to give him a bit of a hand. But cut him some slack, he wants to please you and nonsensically thinks the more the better.

His scent. Versace - The Dreamer | oriental, spicy, sweet.

Of course, here again he uses everything to get closer to you.

"Could need some help with that lotion".

He is a seducer, he likes to do that and you are just irresistible to him.

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@pink-peachie-pie

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22

#headcanon #star wars #the bad batch #clonelove #clone force 99 #tbb #sw tbb #clone trooper tech #tbb tech #tech #clone rex #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #clone captain rex #rex #rex x reader #rex x you #fives #arc trooper fives #clone trooper fives #fives x reader #fives x you #crosshair #crosshair tbb #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair #clone trooper wrecker #tbb wrecker

[lavenderbexlatte]

shameless ch 2: speechless

stray kids 4.6k words female reader insert Reader x Lee Felix SFW

🖤 warnings: realistic idol!au, questionable power dynamics, idol/fan interactions, unresolved tension, deep/mature themes, the slowest of slow burns, felix is truly whipped and reader is...🖤

Series Masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

🕷 you 🕷

felix lee: i’m running rlly late :c felix lee: can you pls just come to the dorm felix lee: manager wants me to talk to the dior guy myself i will b so late

You stare down at your phone in your hand.

Really, what could it hurt?

It’s been weeks of casual dating, and Felix is a staple in your life to the point that you sometimes forget that his involves things like conference calls with Dior reps. You wouldn’t have thought it possible to forget what kind of reality you’re in, but the power of routine has really set in.

Today, specifically, Felix is supposed to be en route to the river park, for a walk and some convenience-store ramen for dinner. This phone meeting was supposed to be earlier in the day, but obviously something outside of his control has changed. You’re already on the train, though, on your way across town.

It admittedly wouldn’t take much to get on the other metro line, to zip over to his neighborhood instead.

You’re a little too tired to worry, today. You just want to see Felix, have some excessive sodium and brave the autumn cold for a few hours, and then collapse into bed. You can handle having today be the day that you cross this line.

It’s not a big deal. It won’t be a big deal.

So you change course. You get the address from a very relieved Felix, and you head to the dorm, instead. The tiredness and the monotony of travel dulls your anxiety to a low hum, and you figure that it’ll be just fine.

That all changes when Bang Chan opens the door.

You make it to the dorm. Knock. Wait.

The door opens.

And it’s not Felix. It’s Bang Chan.

He blinks at you, sleepy eyes under the heavy hood of his dark sweatshirt. “Oh.”

He’s looking at you like you’re the thing that he least expected to find on his doorstep. He’s looking at you like he’s not sure if he’s imagining you there or not, like he’s trying to come to terms with the idea of your existence. It’s intimidating in its emptiness.

No, not just intimidating. It’s something else entirely. Your jaw is clenched, your knees locked. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that you’d entered fight, flight, or freeze mode and defaulted to freeze in an instant. You struggle against the urge to look down at your feet, instead of up at his face.

For one heart-stopping instant, you actually wonder if you’re at the wrong house, until your wits come back to you and you remember that, no, this is Felix’s idol group member. His idol group leader. You swallow. It’s not like you can leave. Felix is expecting you.

“Um, is…Felix…?” you ask weakly.

Bang Chan blinks at you again. There’s a silence that stretches far longer than you would like, and then he gives himself a little shake and gives you a little nod.

“Yeah, Felix, yes. He’s here,” he tells you, “You can just – d’you wanna wait inside?”

You try to dismiss it, “Oh, I can just-”

“No, no, come in,” Chan insists.

“Really, I’m okay-”

“Sorry, you kind of startled me,” he apologizes, cutting you off with a sheepish dimpled grin that makes a dull panic rise behind your eyes, because oh my god this is real, isn’t it?

“Me?” you answer, eloquent as ever.

“I just didn’t – yeah. Come in, sit down. Felix is on the phone,” Chan tells you, taking a step deeper into the apartment and beckoning you after him.

You follow him inside.

It’s like stepping into another dimension, for how significant it feels. This is your Neil Armstrong moment, your one giant leap. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe you’re just freaking out over nothing, overreacting to meeting the roommates of a guy you’re dating.

Because that’s what they are. His roommates. Felix’s roommates.

Stray Kids Felix.

Chan turns around again, pushing a hand back through his messy hair as he regards you carefully. “You’re (Y/N), right?”

You absolutely don’t flinch when Bang Chan says your name. “Yeah.”

“I’ve heard about you,” he says. “Nice to put a face to the name.”

“Felix talks about me?” you ask, unsure why this surprises you.

It shouldn’t surprise you. He’s been going out with you for nearly a month, now, and these guys are his friends and coworkers and roommates and literally constant companions. But you still struggle to believe it.

“Sure,” Chan nods.

“That’s…huh,” you say, truly stumped.

Chan gives you another one of those gentle half-smiles. “Lemme go see if Lix is done.”

“Okay.”

As Chan disappears into the house, leaving you standing by the entry to their big square living room, you find yourself equally hoping and dreading that another member will show up.

You wonder how you’d react. If seeing another one of them would make you feel the way Chan is making you feel, would make you want to crawl out of your skin and never return, would drop your heart into your heels and bead nervous sweat across your temples.

Because Chan…well. Chan. You’ve always-

“Hey!”

Felix’s face is bright, makeup-free, and exuberantly excited to see you. It’s not something that should make you jump, but you do, startling visibly so that he laughs and puts an affectionate hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says again, “Sorry, just got off the call. I didn’t scare you, did I?”

He’s beaming. You don’t know what your face is doing, but it’s not that.

“No,” you lie, “I was just thinking.”

“About how messy this place is, I’m sure,” Chan cuts in with a wayward laugh, and oh.

He’s still here, too, isn’t he?

“It’s been worse,” Felix says.

“Doesn’t mean it’s good now,” Chan replies.

Felix lets go of you to go dig a pair of shoes out of an overflowing closet that spills sneakers and boots into the hall, and you don’t move an inch. To your own detriment, because now that he’s out of your line of sight, you’re just staring at Chan.

He doesn’t even give you a second glance, going back to the ridiculous gaming chair that faces a sleek PC setup in the corner by their mismatched dining set. His back is to you, but you find yourself tracing his shoulder line with your eyes in your dull disbelief.

These are idols.

Felix is an idol.

You always knew it. You were overly aware of it, from your first conversation. You’ve been bending yourself around that truth, fitting yourself into it. And now, suddenly, you feel stripped bare by it.

“Ready!” Felix announces, as he finishes off his shoelace with a flourish.

“Yay,” you answer weakly.

“Have fun!” Chan calls over his shoulder.

He still doesn’t look up, and you find a prickle of longing in the back of your mind, wishing that maybe he would. You don’t know why.

That’s a lie.

You know why, and you think about it as Felix leads you into the hall and away. Your body leaves that crowded living room, but your mind lingers, somewhere right behind that gaming chair and the broad shoulders nestled there.

🦋 him 🦋

She’s wearing the hoodie that they bought together all those weeks ago.

It’s a small thing, probably not even that significant to her, but it makes Felix’s heart do a giddy little flip in his chest all the same.

Things are coming up Felix, today. Chan was nice, didn’t even pull any group leader or big brother bullshit. She came over to the dorm, even though she’s obviously been a little nervous about it, taking another step into Felix’s life. And they get to go on a date.

They’re well on the date, actually.

They’ve snagged a table outside the GS25, steaming instant ramen cups in front of each of them and a bottle of juice to pass back and forth. The autumn wind is cold, but it’s comfortable enough.

But she’s worrying her disposable wooden chopsticks between her fingers, and it makes Felix wonder.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Just stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” he presses, with a half-smile.

Rather than answering, she fishes out another bite of ramen and feeds it into her mouth. That’s okay. Felix can wait until she’s ready to share.

“I know it’s something,” he says.

She shrugs.

And then finally, she says, “Chan was really nice.”

“Did you expect him not to be?” Felix asks, amused.

“No, I just…” she shrugs again, “He was so nice.”

“It’s easy to be nice to you.”

She grins, even as she rolls her eyes at the compliment. “Still.”

“You’re right, though, he could have given us more grief,” Felix says thoughtfully. “Figured he would have.”

“Are they all that nice?” she asks.

“The members?”

She nods.

“Of course.”

Felix digs back into his own meal, satisfied that he’s gotten some of the truth out of her, even though her face is still pensive.

It’s a nice face. He likes looking at it.

A gust of wind sends leaves skittering under the table and around their feet, and she burrows farther into the plush of her hoodie. She looks so cute, ruffled and chilled through, and Felix can’t help it.

“I can’t believe…” she’s saying, “I mean really, I can’t-”

Felix cuts her off with a kiss. Their first, he realizes with a thrill, and maybe the first he’s had since he was a teenager. He can’t really remember. His career and the constant threat of losing it for the most minor social infraction has kept him away from all potential kisses for a long time. There’s a lovely haze of excitement settling over his consciousness, and when he pulls away, he swears he’s tingling.

She looks at him in surprise. She pulls her tongue over her bottom lip absently. And then she keeps talking, where she left off.

“I can’t believe Chan really dresses like that.”

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

She comes to the dorm two more times that month.

Both times, it’s her asking to come over, rather than spending time out somewhere else. Felix isn’t sure what changed, but he’s more than happy to stay in sweats and order in dinner.

The first time, Felix makes sure that everyone else is out of the house. They don’t need a whole audience of nosy bandmates, watching them watch a movie and making comments to each other like the nuisances they are. Even so, he’s hyperaware of the fact that at least ten other people have access to the dorm and could come back at any moment.

“We could go to my room, if you’re worried it’ll get weird,” Felix offers, “Managers won’t go in there, or anything.”

But she frowns. “You don’t have your own room, though.”

“Nobody’s home, we’ll have full privacy. But yeah, I share with Chan-hyung and ‘Bin-hyung,” Felix says.

Her face freezes.

Immediately, he starts backtracking in his mind, wondering which part of what he said is freaking her out. Oh, God, does she think he’s implying that he wants to have sex tonight? All that emphasis on being alone together? That would be cool, of course, awesome, excellent, but that’s not what he meant-

“We don’t have to,” he says, as soon as he realizes how long the silence has been.

“No, just…let’s stay out here,” she says.

They’re already squished side by side on the living room couch, so it’s easy enough to just stay there.

Felix slings an arm around her shoulders, and she leans into him so that he can smile softly into her hair. “Sounds good to me.”

-----

The second time, they have company.

Felix didn’t even think about the possibility of it, earlier that day, when he invited her over. Why would he? If the dorm is empty for the day, it usually stays that way. Days off mean everyone retreats to their own corners of the world and no one is home before they have to be. But they definitely aren’t alone together this time.

The living room is empty, save for the Switch and its missing joycon that Felix is turning the place upside-down to find. It’s really hard to play multiplayer games with only one controller, after all, and Felix promised her a Smash tournament. But after a thorough search of the room turns up nothing, the next logical place to look is in his room.  

“Hold on, I’ll find it,” Felix promises, as he darts toward his bedroom door.

“I can come help,” she offers.

It’s something of a weird offer, considering the last time she was here, she didn’t even want to set foot in his room. She follows him this time, around the sofa and over to the short hallway that connects the living space to the bedrooms.

Felix dismisses her gently. “Nah, it’ll only be a second-”

But the door opens before Felix can even reach for the knob, and there she is. That girl. Chan’s girl, the Cool Girl. She’s dressed to the nines in slacks and mules and a puff-sleeved blouse, and there’s a hickey on her throat the size of a Cadbury egg.

“Hi, Felix,” she offers, perfectly lovely and polite.

She gives him a warm smile that shines with something that Felix can’t quite parse, and then she’s brushing past him on her way out.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were home,” comes Chan’s voice blithely from inside the bedroom.

“We got home like fifteen minutes ago,” Felix answers.

“We?” Chan echoes.

“Yeah, me and…” Felix blanches.

He turns around, and they’re face to face, wary like cats. Smiling at each other, sure, but the energy is wildly uncomfortable.

“This is so cute,” Cool Girl is saying, with a pluck at her sweater sleeve, “Where did you get it?”

If she answers Cool Girl, Felix doesn’t hear it, but it’s not another ten seconds before Cool Girl has clicked her way out of the room and left a horrible silence in her wake.

“I really didn’t know you were home,” Chan says again, wrenching Felix back into the moment, and this time it’s dripping with apology.

“It’s fine,” Felix says, and that’s true.

“I should have texted ahead, bro, really.”

“Do you ever?” asks Felix wryly.

“Maybe I should start,” Chan grins.  

It’s then that Felix realizes Chan is completely nude save for the pair of briefs he’s obviously just shoved on, and while that’s not unusual in itself, the context makes Felix want to blush all the way down to his toes. He spots his joycon on the floor by his bed, and he gratefully shoves Chan aside and grabs the stupid blue thing.

“Just came for this, anyway,” Felix says, as he retreats.

“Enjoy,” Chan says, and he raises his voice to call out to her before the door slams, “Good to see you!”

Felix isn’t sure if this really qualifies as seeing each other. Or as anything good. But the pleasantry seems to set her more at ease, and Felix leads her back to the living room in a valiant attempt to pretend nothing happened.

-----

They also go to hers a few times. And those times are the most confusing of all.

When they’re truly alone, at her tiny apartment that makes Felix wonder what his life could be if things had gone differently, she’s just herself.

She’s the person he likes so much, flannel shirts and playlists, beat-up sneakers by the door and an unabashed peek of his friends’ faces from her music collection. She shows him movies and stupid YouTube videos and orders him her favorite takeout that his managers would kill him for eating (his skin! his physique!).

When they’re alone, she talks more. She smiles more, a real smile that wrinkles her nose and sets her eyes alight. She goes barefaced like he does, she’ll put on a skincare mask and give him one and they’ll sit there listening to music and letting the dubiously-effective serums sink in.

She’s something that he has chosen, a rarity in his life that has grown so much in the last few years, bigger and wilder and more wonderful but also far, far out of his control. She’s something he picked for himself.

And Felix likes her. So much.

That makes it all the weirder when she starts to change.

He notices it for the first time on a Saturday morning, when she comes to the dorm to make cookies with him. Maybe she had been changing for a while, in her day-to-day when they’re not together, but Felix is still bowled over when he sees her.

She’s right on time. She’s beaming at him. And her clothes-

That’s not usually what Felix focuses on, because why would he? But it’s impossible to ignore today. He opens the apartment door, and there she is, looking nothing like herself.

“What are you wearing?” he asks.

He immediately curses himself silently; that wasn’t supposed to come out.

She wilts just the slightest bit at his words, and her discomfort makes the outfit look even more out of place.

It’s a look that Felix has definitely seen before, though he couldn’t put a finger on exactly where. A loose, airy blouse over tailored slim-fit pants, practical Mary Jane walkers. Neutral pastel colors that complement each other well, a pale blue and a slate grey.

Pretty, of course. The pieces fit well. But they’re not…right. They’re not right.

“You don’t like it?” she asks.

“No, no,” Felix says quickly, “I’ve just never seen this outfit before.”

“It’s new,” she says.

“I can tell.”

The distinctive smell of new clothes is strong, that perfume that hangs over department stores and boutiques. She must have just bought everything, head to toe. The thing that Felix cannot figure out is why.

"You look great," Felix assures her.

"Thanks."

She looks sheepish, still, though the alarm at Felix's reaction has faded.

"But we're gonna be baking, you know," he says.

She shrugs, "I can be careful."

"I can give you something to put on. I don't think we have aprons but there's gotta be something."

Felix has all the baking things ready. Ingredients ready on the counter, bowls and spoons and whisks on the kitchen table.

He put most of them out last night, actually, too excited at the prospect of doing something so cute and domestic with someone like her. The last person who really sat and baked with him for the process of it was Chan, and that was for a vlog so it wasn't the same at all. It wouldn't have been the same even without the camera, Felix tells himself. So this is an exciting first.

As she toes off those Mary Janes, so new that the treads on the bottom are barely dirty, Felix rummages through the cabinets to see if they have any spare aprons. He thinks the managers took the ones they'd had for washing, and he can't recall if they ever came back.

Doesn't seem like they did.

He glances at her, still by the door, adjusting the tuck of her lovely blouse, and he knows that this won't do.

A quick trip into his room, a glance around the mess, and he has the solution.

"Here."

She looks down at the bundle of fabric nonplussed.

"It's an old t-shirt," Felix explains, as he turns back to the ingredients, eager to begin, "I don't have an apron for you so just, like. Wear that to keep your clothes clean."

She laughs. "Thanks."

Flour, sugar, vanilla extract, salt, eggs and butter from the fridge. Everything seems in order, but as Felix fixes his gaze on her again, obviously that sentiment isn't completely true.

She's just holding up the t-shirt, looking at it as if it's some kind of giant bug or a garbage bag or something. It's clean, Felix tugged it out of one of the dresser drawers stuffed full of old training clothes and smelled it himself, but she's still looking at it with no small amount of trepidation. She's certain not putting it on.

"What's up?"

"This..." she shakes the shirt gently, "This isn't yours."

Felix peers at it more closely, and sees that the sleeves are gone, leaving a ragged hem that suggest they were cropped off at home with a pair of scissors. "Huh. Nah, must be hyung's."

Which hyung, he's not sure, since both guys who share Felix's room are known for homemade muscle tees and their absolute refusal to wear real clothes. But the confirmation does not seem to make her feel any better.

"You want me to wear this?" she asks.

"Unless you wanna get eggs and flour on your new clothes," Felix says, perplexed.

He's not quite sure why she's hesitating. If it's the borrowing-clothes thing, Felix takes their stuff all the time, so that's not an issue. He can wash it after, if it gets dirty. He says as much, and she still just looks at the wrinkled black fabric.

It's one of their old album release shirts, Felix notices. Miroh, he thinks. Damn, that's been kicking around for a while, then.

He almost comments on it, too, but as if she's breaking out of her little trance, she slips the shirt on over her nice clothes, and the moment is over.

She approaches the table where Felix stands, takes in the assortment of ingredients, and she smiles. "Let's do this."

-----

The second batch of cookies, these ones full of M&M's and pretzel pieces at her ingenious suggestion, have just gone into the oven when the members get home.

Not all of them, luckily. Felix doesn't know what he would do if Jisung and Seungmin and Jeongin were around to give him shit about having a girl over on one of their precious days off. They're his friends, but damn if they're not the absolute worst.

It's just Minho and Chan.

"Guys are home," Felix says.

She's watching the cookies through the tiny glass door of the tabletop convection oven, and she simply replies, "They can't have any."

Minho comes in first, levels her with a smile that doesn't quite reach his tired eyes, and goes right to the fridge to retrieve a Monster and a snack. He cracks the can, and as he's looking at her, his gaze slides down to the borrowed t-shirt as she absentmindedly wipes the flour off her hands along the hem of the shirt.

Felix throws him a warning glare, but Minho just looks back toward the foyer and says, casual as anything, "Hey, hyung? Isn't that yours?"

The calm is well and truly shattered then, and she turns around to look at Minho in alarm.

"Felix lent me-"

But Chan makes his way into the kitchen, too, and when he sees the t-shirt, he stops. His expression is unreadable, which is saying a lot since Felix knows him immeasurably well and Chan is also very easy to read regardless. Is he upset about the stains of flour and water? Is it that some girl he's only met a few times is wearing his clothes without his permission? None of those seem like things that would particularly upset Chan, though, so Felix is left staring at his hyung and guessing.

"Yeah, it is," Chan says, finally.

"It was in the drawer, she needed something to borrow," Felix says, hoping to head off any kind of confrontation before it begins.

"Nah, no worries," says Chan, and he looks like he means it.

"You sure?"

"'Course I'm sure," he grins.

Minho, for his part, is watching with far too much interest, sipping from his energy drink and leaning against the middle fridge. He's never really stuck around when she was over before, and his new interest makes Felix more than a little curious.

"Those look good," Chan says, eyeing the cookies lined up on their baking tray, cooling on the kitchen table.

"You wanna try?" she asks him.

Felix snorts. "You just said they couldn't have any."

She looks at him, a little exasperated. "I was kidding."

"Can I?" Chan asks.

At her eager nod, Chan peels one of the half-cooled chocolate chip cookies up and jams the entire thing into his mouth. It's like a weird game of telephone, as she watches Chan, Minho watches her, and Felix watches Minho.

"So good," Chan confirms, muffled by his full mouth.

She fidgets, and Minho peers at her even harder.

"That's all Felix," she says, "He's the master chef. I haven't baked in so long."

"But you helped," Chan grins.

It's her turn to make a face that Felix can't quite parse, but before anything can cross the line from slightly weird to actually firmly weird, Minho slings an arm around Chan's shoulders and begins leading him out of the room.

"Let the lovebirds make their shit," Minho instructs.

"Yeah, yeah," Chan twists in Minho's grip to throw a wave and an even bigger smile at her and Felix. "Have fun!"

Her face falls ever so slightly once Chan and Minho are gone, retreated to their rooms after doing whatever it is they'd gone out to do together. The calm content that had settled over the kitchen as they shaped the cookies, filled the trays, waited for the finished desserts, isn't quite the same as it was.

And as much as Felix doesn't want to think that his friends could be the reason for that, the logic stands: she was fine before seeing them, and now it's weird.

It's weird, right?

Why is it weird?

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

Felix never really gets any answers about that cookie-making date turning odd at the end, but to be fair, he doesn't ask her any questions about it.

He's always been the type to pick his battles. It's a necessary skill in a career like his, to know when to push the issue and when to let go, and this seems like as good a time as any to just take things at face value and move on. It's still a little jarring for her, a fan of the group, to see the members when she's not thinking about it. Felix has to just accept that.

It would be easier to accept if things didn't keep happening.

Felix doesn't get to see her for a few weeks after that day. It's all because of scheduling conflicts on his end, as usual. His job picks up and drops at the most random times, and after a few weeks of free and clear weekends, he's got back-to-back commitments again.

But as soon as he has time, they plan for one of their standard movie night in at her place.

Maybe it'll be better if they're back on her terms, in her space, where things usually make sense.

She looks like herself when she opens the door that night, dressed in casual shorts and a comfortable t-shirt, unready and soft and normal. It lets Felix relax, releases any worry that she was making aesthetic changes for him, for whatever reason.

She's normal, but her apartment is a little different.

The posters are gone.

Or, mostly gone.

All the old ones, pictures of assorted groups that she's talked to him about over the weeks and months, have disappeared. Even her albums have moved, relegated to a high shelf out of view. Felix has to really look to find them, hidden high above.

There is, however, one new poster, front and center, drawing the eye more than anything else in the room.

Felix's own eyes gaze down at him, face glitter-caked and Photoshopped to a smooth approximation of its usual shape, the members posed around his tiny austere image looking much the same.

It's a poster from their latest album. And somehow, their group name that usually fits like his own feels something like a threat, an exposition, emblazoned across the bottom corner of the print. Stray Kids.

Stray Kids' Felix.

Is that how she wants to see him?

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids felix #stray kids felix fanfic #lee felix #lee felix fanfic #kpop fanfic #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #bang chan fanfic #stray kids bang chan #if you see this change to the tags no you don't

[mouldyrubbish]

wait hi ok so i see you love perfumes... i am so lost and have never worn anything more than cheap handmedown scents. my love thinks it would be very sexy to have a signature scent and im like ah!!! lost!!!! would u be open to recommendations?

hiii sorry i didn't reply sooner. Yes I am super happy to talk about perfumes :) my response is rather VERY lengthy though so I apologise but feel free to msg me if you have any more questions.

I just want to say first of all that there's nothing wrong with 'cheap' or 'hand-me-downs' in perfume. There's no harm in wanting to smell nice at an affordable price. There are some really amazing budget fragrances available out there. Some perfumes are exorbitantly priced, they range in quality, but I'd recommend doing your research into a perfume before you buy it, especially if it's going to be considered an 'investment' for you, and a signature scent. ALSO consider your basis for ethical consumption: a lot of perfumes are not vegan, so if that's a factor for you then beware.

I'm happy to give you some recommendations, but, tbh, only you will know what perfume will work on you, and what you will actually enjoy wearing. You will find that sometimes a perfume can smell great on one person, but just not work on you. Even the Ph of your skin can change a scent which makes it tricky... And then there is also just simply the fact that scents can have 'aesthetics' as much as anything else you would usually put on your body so figuring that out as well should matter when you are deciding something for a signature. But, really, it's mostly a matter of personal taste.

If you have a department store, or a cosmetics store with a good range of fragrances, then I really recommend to go there and take the time to try some things out. See what sticks out to you, and look them up on fragrantica (this is the best resource honestly!!! I luv it so much) and see if you notice a pattern in the accords and notes of each perfume. Like for me a lot of my favourite perfumes have 'warm spicy' and 'woody' in their top accords, and I also notice I tend to lean more into the 'masculine' fragrances, things that are quite heavy and yummy smelling. But for you, you could really adore light floral scents, powdery scents, vetivers, or musks. Alsoooo you can usually get free sample vials of perfumes at department stores so you can try them out on your skin for a couple of days and see if it's the one for you or not. A lady even told me today that it usually takes 7 days of wearing a perfume for it to start accurately working with your body chemistry, so definitely take advantage of a freebie.

What's fun about perfume is what it evokes, and that you can wear something that will remind you of something you love. For everyone it's different. My roommate loves 'grandma' perfumes, but I can't really stand them. I prefer woody scents but some people find them too linear or dull. But I don't recommend getting too wrapped up in the 'imagery' of a perfume when you're deciding cause it can get too easy to get carried away with the idea of what a perfume smells like when you can end up spraying it on you and absolutely hating it. People can say beautiful things about a perfume because it smells enchanting on their skin, or they have a personal experience that makes it more enjoyable or meaningful for them. For you it could just be a big ol' mess. No perfume is TRULY universal. There are many many popular fragrances which you could make into a very safe signature scent (J'adore Dior, Chanel N°5, Gucci Bloom, Baccarat Rouge, etc.)... But if you wanna get into something a bit more special and personalised, then it's definitely worth taking the time to find something that stands out to you and makes you feel the way you want to feel when you wear it.

I can't really recommend you something. I can point you in some directions I've gone down and enjoyed. Your purpose behind the wear is different to mine though: you have a lover, someone you want to accompany the memories you share with a particular scent. I am alone (lol) but I want to make an impression on the people around me, so I'm more open to exploring fragrances because I'm not really worried about fortifying a time in my life with a particular smell. But I think that's something really really bewitching about fragrance. Years and years can pass, and the second you get a whiff of something, you'll feel transported to a time, place, moment, person...

At the moment my favourite 'budget' frags are L'Eau D'Issey Pour Hommes and Aramis: both are masculine fragrances but Issey is really nice and a lot of people find it to be more unisex, including me. They are classics and have been around so long now that I guess they just sell so much of it that they can afford to make it cheap. I also don't mind Clinique Happy and Vera Wang Lovestruck <- super feminine floral scent and beautiful bottle, affordable! Gorgeous. Easy to find in most drugstores.

I've heard some good things about Lolita Lempicka frags especially if you were a Marc Jacobs Daisy teen (lol) but I have personally never tried them... Mugler fragrances are great but divisive. Love or hate them kind of smells, but pack a punch.

Utilitarian but a bit higher budget scents from Aesop are delectable, I adore them because of my penchant for woody/spicy scents and they pretty much all contain an element of wood or spice. Plus the bottles are so nice and portable. I also have a friend who works at aesop so she gives me a discount :X

Juliette Has a Gun is good but too feminine for me :( also coming up on the pricier side. A bit more niche.

Classic French brands Guerlain and Caron are phenomenal, timeless, good quality, and they're not too popular so you won't be wearing the same thing as everyone else. Unless you can find stores that stock them, they'll be blind buys which can be a gamble. But they're the longest running French perfume houses so I feel like it's a pretty good gamble.

On the higher price points: Diptyque is just absolutely *chefs kiss* you will surely find something to love in their collection. This is high quality yet simple perfume that will always get a 'mmm' from people... Their most popular scent is Do Son, but I love Philosykos and L'Ombre Dans L'Eau. Maison Margiela's 'Replica' range is hugely popular at the moment. CDG is also very on top of their game in the frags right now! Their Incense collection is amazing. Etat Libre D'Orange offers a good range of sort of 'transgressive' scents, many are very popular and worn as signatures, and then finally on the real high price points are Byredo and Le Labo, but I have no strong opinions on these brands because they're outside of my price range. I also love Frederic Malle... Top shelf for a reason...

Final notes: always search online for the best price for a perfume! A lot of wholesale/warehouse online stores stock all sorts of stuff for cheaper than retail prices. Also check on local marketplaces for stuff coming up for sale, especially around the holidays. People get gifted perfumes that don't end up suiting them, and they resell them. You can get some great deals.

Hope all this is helpful lol.

#this took me an hour to write :X hoho #just message me if this is too much info im happy to just chat

[babybluebex]

can I please request a sebastian stan imagine where sebastian and the reader are both dating other people but they end up liking each other after filming something together, and the rest is up to you? xx

distance [sebastian stan x reader]

➽ pairing: sebastian stan x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 1.9k ➽ summary: see above!  ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of tom hiddleston x reader, angst, pining ➽ a/n: enjoy!

Jealousy was new to you. Sure, you turned green every so often, but it wasn’t a usual occurrence. It happened infrequently enough that you forgot the way it felt every time it bubbled up again. Recently, though, you were familiar with jealousy. 

You weren’t quite sure when it started. Maybe when you first met Sebastian. It was at the premiere for Avengers. You had been in it, playing Tony Stark’s daughter Lucy, who was kidnapped by the crazed Loki. In filming your scenes with Tom Hiddleston, you had grown to appreciate him, and the premiere was a sort-of announcement that you were dating. By that point, you already knew that you would be in the next Captain America movie, and you were thrilled to work with Chris and Scarlet again. On top of that, you were excited to meet Anthony Mackie. 

You didn’t know that Sebastian would be in Winter Soldier until he approached you at the premiere. He looked handsome, suit and rings and slicked hair, and he congratulated you on an amazing performance. “Oh, I loved you in First Avenger,” you told him with a smile. “Bucky was my favorite by far. I cried when he died.” 

Tom wrapped his arm around your waist and nodded in agreement. “She was truly a mess,” he said. “We had to pause the movie.” He shook Sebastian’s hand, and the force of it wasn’t lost on you. 

“I got emotional during your scene together in the Tower,” Sebastian said. “Lucy begging for her dad, and Loki’s unrelenting cruelty. I just… Wow. It blew me away!” 

“Thanks,” you said. “Are you gonna visit the Winter Soldier set?”

Sebastian laughed and bit his bottom lip. Full and pink. He was so totally handsome, and you felt lightheaded even being in his presence. “Well,” he started. “I’m actually in it.” 

You gasped. “What? How? Bucky died!” 

“He was rescued,” Sebastian said slowly. “By HYDRA. And he comes back.”

“Oh, my God,” you laughed. “Oh, you just made my entire night. Wow! I-I can’t wait!” 

Sebastian nodded, and he looked to his side. A few meters away, a woman was talking to the press, and she quickly came and kissed Sebastian on the cheek. You recognized her as one of his co-stars from Once Upon A Time, and you felt that unfamiliar jealousy bubble in your stomach. Why were you jealous? You were on the arm of one of the most talented and successful actors, and, besides that, you loved your boyfriend. 

So why did you want more? 

Filming for Winter Soldier started, and you quickly found out your character’s storyline. She was working with Steve and Fury to help in reparations of the New York fiasco from Avengers, and she was the first one to encounter the Winter Soldier. She wouldn’t recognize him and would tell Steve about her encounter with a super-soldier, and Natasha would tell the story of the Winter Soldier, how he was a myth and a ghost. The directors, the talented Russo brothers, had told you that an arc would extend past the movie and into the sequels where Lucy helps break Bucky Barnes from his brainwashing and they would eventually fall in love. But, they assured you, that was several films off. They didn’t even plan for Lucy and Bucky to kiss until the next Captain America movie. 

You and Sebastian became quick friends. Despite the metal-like prosthetic and long hair and heavy makeup that he wore on set, you found comfort in him. You couldn’t explain it, but you felt at ease with him. Between takes, you could be found laughing and jokingly sparing with him. 

One night, after filming, you called Tom. He was on a press tour for Dark World at the same time, which meant that your schedules never lined up. That night was the first time you had properly talked to him in weeks. “Hi, love,” you said. “How’re you? I miss you like crazy.” 

“I miss you too, darling,” Tom told you in his smooth baritone. “I’m alright. Tired as hell, though.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. “Anything I can do to help?” 

“Just talk to me,” Tom sighed, and you imagined him leaning his head back. “Tell me about filming.” 

“Well,” you began. “A lot more physical than what I’m used to. A lot of running around and everything, ya know? My legs are sore all the time.” You laughed, and you listened to Tom’s scratchy laughter. “But I’m surrounded by great people. The Russos are awesome, and of course, Chris and Scarlet and Samuel are fantastic.”

“And Sebastian?”

You hesitated to talk about Sebastian. You hoped that your boyfriend hadn’t caught onto your infatuation with him, but that’s all it was. It was just a crush on a hot guy. “He’s cool,” you said. “Really funny and friendly. Most of my physical scenes are with him.” 

“I know you can’t tell me much,” Tom said. “But do you get to snog him?” 

You laughed, but bit your cheek all the same. “Not yet,” you chuckled. “That’s not until the next Captain America movie.”

“Oh,” Tom said quickly. “I was joking, but… Do you and Sebastian have any scenes like that?” 

“Not in this movie, love,” you assured him. “Are you jealous?” 

“Just a bit,” Tom admitted. “I just wish that it was me that you were kissing.” 

You sighed. “That’s the nature of our jobs, huh?” you said. “I wish I was kissing you too.” 

Tom was quiet for a moment, then he mumbled, “I think maybe we should take a break.” 

You wanted to be shocked, but you knew that it was coming. It was several months in the making and, with nothing concrete keeping you two together, it was inevitable. You weren’t hurt at all. “Me too,” you said softly. “We just… I can’t do long distance. It sounds cliche, but it’s not you, Hidds.”

“Distance is supposed to make the heart grow fonder,” Tom sighed. “But…” 

You nodded. “I understand,” you said. “But please, if you ever need someone to talk to, don’t hesitate to call me. Alright? I still care about you loads.” 

“Same to you, darling,” Tom whispered. And the call ended. 

The next day was weird, to put it plainly. You felt ill all morning and you couldn’t figure out exactly why, but, the moment you saw Sebastian, you understood it. Your boyfriend’s jealousy was powerful. As much as Tom wanted to blame it on something else, you knew that it was the green monster that had prompted the break up. “Hey,” Sebastian said cheerfully, placing a playful jab to your arm. “You seem tired.” 

“Gee, what a nice thing to say to a lady,” you chuckled. “No, I’m just…” You sighed. “Tom and I broke up last night. I’m a little weird today.” 

Sebastian’s face soured. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said. “You guys seemed so happy together.” 

You shrugged. “We were,” you said. “‘Distance is supposed to make the heart grow fonder’... But I guess it doesn’t.” 

Sebastian frowned deep, and you pulled you into a tight hug. “I’m really fucking sorry,” he whispered. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“No,” you said, pulling out of his strong grip. Even without the actual metal arm, he was strong as hell. “Just a hug is enough.” 

“I’m glad I can do that,” Sebastian said. His eyes sparkled, and he added, “I understand what you’re going through. Jennifer and I broke up a few weeks before filming started.” 

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed. “Seb! I had no idea! I’m so sorry.” 

Sebastian shrugged. “It was for the best,” he said. The hug had yet to break, but you didn’t mind. Even through the layers of his costume, you could feel Sebastian’s heartbeat on your cheek, and it was soothing. 

Filming finished several weeks after your breakup with Tom, and then it was time for your own press tour. Marvel paired you with Scarlet for most press junkets, but sometimes you were put with Sebastian. Those days were your favorite, mostly because absolutely no work got done. You two were forever laughing and making fun of each other, and you always saw edits of your interviews on social media. 

Finally, the premiere came. You and Sebastian had already agreed to be each other’s dates, but you were blown away by him. His hair was short and styled, and he looked breathtakingly handsome in his expensive black suit and matching black tie. “Oh my fucking God,” Sebastian laughed when he saw you, though. “You look… Holy shit. So beautiful.” 

“Oh, God, stop,” you groaned. Your dress was a beautiful thing, custom Dior, red silk that hugged your body just right, and you shivered when Sebastian’s warm fingers trailed down your exposed back. “You look even better.” 

“Well, that’s not possible,” Sebastian scoffed. “You’re gonna steal the show.” 

“When I’m next to you?” You asked. “Everyone’s gonna be focused on your pretty blue eyes.” 

Sebastian smiled softly, his hand finally settling on the small of your back. “I have something for you,” he said gently. 

“Oh, Seb!” you groaned. “You did not buy me something. You know I hate that!” 

“Aw, c’mon, you’re gonna love it,” Sebastian said, and he reached into a pocket inside his suit jacket. He pulled out a small box, just big enough for a pair of earrings or something equivalent, and he opened it. You gasped. A ring. Silver metal, two diamonds with a ruby nestled in the middle. It was dainty and gorgeous, and you felt tears pricking at your eyes. 

“You piece of shit,” you sniffled. “I just had my makeup done and now you’re ruining it!” You hugged him all the same, though, and you whispered in his ear, “It’s so gorgeous, Seb. Thank you.” 

When you pulled out of the hug, you looked at Sebastian, admiring him. He was truly a gorgeous man, and you felt your chest grow hot at the look in his eyes. Were his pupils blown from love? Lust? Something else entirely? 

He answered the question. Sebastian placed his hand on your cheek and tugged you into a kiss, the hand on your back pulling you in against his body, and you held onto the back of his neck. He was everything you thought he would be: his lips were soft and tasted so nice, like cinnamon and whisky and all things wonderful, and, when the kiss broke, he rested his forehead against yours. “I…” he started. “I’m sorry, Y/N, that was-- I shouldn’t have--“ 

“Stop,” you whispered firmly. You knew that Sebastian, the man you were able to call your best friend, was prone to anxiety, and you didn’t want a single anxious thought about you to cross his mind. “Don’t apologize. If you hadn’t kissed me, I would have kissed you. Thank you.” 

You saw Sebastian’s hands shaking as he slid the ring onto your middle finger, and you smiled at how perfectly it fit. “Bucky,” you whispered, admiring the ring. “Silver and red… Right?” 

“Glad you caught that,” Sebastian chuckled. “Look, I know that I’m just your date, but I just really like you. I feel stupid because I’m so nervous about it, but… Seeing you upset over Tom just made me feel so horrible. I never want to see you like that again, and if I can help to make your days better, then I want to. Can I?” 

You touched your hand to his cheek, and you nodded. “Of course,” you told him. “I’d love nothing more, Seb.” 

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x reader fluff #request #ask #anon

[thekitschdiet]

my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet

Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet. 

Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days. 

The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress. 

Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram.  Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it. 

Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm

In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is  actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even… 

If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!

My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.

Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera. 

Moving on; Decorating your room

Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.

 I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead.  Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit. 

Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an  inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read). 

[lalainajanes]

This completes column #2 on my bingo card, the square was “Eager Backstage Groupie”

Another Shot of Courage

 Saturday, May 1st, 8:16 AM

Caroline wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, in the little black dress she'd worn to Kat's birthday party, with a headache and a foul-tasting mouth. She's sprawled in the middle of a very large mattress, so the first thing Caroline does is explore. She stretches her arms out tentatively, expecting to poke someone (hopefully an unobjectionable someone) awake.

She appears to be alone, and Caroline relaxes into the fluffy pillows. She wiggles experimentally, satisfied when her bra and underwear dig into uncomfortable areas and gives in to the temptation to burrow under the duvet.

She just needs a minute to regret her life choices before she confronts them. Caroline sighs, stretches, and her fuzzy head begins to clear, memories sharpening.

And yikes.

Can she stay in her self-made blanket fort forever? A lot of her conduct last night had been highly irrational, some of it downright hypocritical. She is a public relations professional, highly sought after. Her clients pay many pretty pennies for her services.

Had she seriously mauled Klaus Mikaelson in one of the trendiest clubs in LA?

Caroline tugs down the blanket, intent on confirming her suspicions, allowing her to look around and study the room with new eyes.

There's a brick fireplace at the end of the bed, a wide armchair in front of it – not particularly revealing. Her eyes flick to the left. There's nothing, but dark curtains pulled tight over a wall of windows.

When she looks to the right, there's a smoking gun. Well, kind of. It's a drafting table, an easel, and shelves featuring paintbrushes, haphazardly stacked sketchbooks, and a bunch of other things that Caroline doesn't currently have the brainpower to identify.

She considers slipping out of bed and checking to see if those curtains cover any kind of door. She thinks it's logical to assume so. She's only been to Klaus' home a few times, tries to insist they meet at her office. She's never ventured far beyond the kitchen and living rooms, but it's a Spanish-style bungalow on a sprawling lot. Why wouldn't he have a walk out into the yard from his bedroom?

She discards the idea with some regret. Running away without a word is a coward's move and would probably backfire. Klaus is still her client, whatever psychosis had gripped Caroline last night, and it's not like she could dump him via email at this point. He's got a huge movie coming in three weeks, and they're flying to London tomorrow to begin the premiere tour. She could probably pass it on to another publicist, but she'd still be on the hook, would have to coordinate her plans long-distance.

Selfishly, Caroline hopes that's not necessary. She'd hate for someone else to reap the benefits of her hard work.

She heaves herself into a sitting position, wincing when her head throbs. Her stomach seems solid, with no hint of queasiness, so that's a plus. Caroline tosses the covers aside, shifts until her legs slide over the side of the bed. She catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror through the open closet door and cringes.

She'd done an excellent smoky eye last night, and it's migrated all over her face. She doesn't even want to consider how long it's going to take to detangle her hair. She decides she can wait a bit to hunt down Klaus, stepping forward and twisting the knob on the closed door. "Jackpot," Caroline mutters, walking into Klaus' bathroom. There's a stack of towels on the counter, and she figures it won't hurt to take a shower.

She'd had her tongue in his mouth and had apparently kicked him out of his bed, so what's one more presumption?

Friday, April 30th, 10:47 PM

In the VIP lounge Kat had rented, elevated above the main dance floor, Caroline waves away a shot of tequila. She'd had one during the birthday toast, wine at dinner. Had just ordered an overpriced cocktail. She's pleasantly tipsy but needs to pace herself because she can't get too drunk tonight.

Besides, Caroline and tequila have a complicated relationship.

Kat boos her, a few of the other girls joining in. Caroline laughs, "I know, I'm boring. I have a million things to do tomorrow to make sure I'm ready to live out of a suitcase for weeks."

Katherine scoffs, "Just make Klaus buy you anything you forget. What good is a guy who's hot for you and makes big fat superhero movie paychecks if he won't buy you pretty things?"

They've discussed this a bajillion times. Caroline has actually run away from this exact conversation, shouting nonsense syllables, with her fingers jammed in her ear, as if she and Katherine still fight over Barbies and who gets to wear dress-up trunk's best princess dress.

Caroline still can't resist arguing – it's a character flaw. "He's my client. That's it."

"Oh, please. Men in this town bone their clients all the time."

"That doesn't make it okay!"

Usually, this is the part where Katherine tries to convince her that Klaus is dying to be boned – her words, not Caroline's – but she gets distracted, squinting across the bar. Kat's lips curl, expression growing sly, "It appears my argument is moot."

Um, what? Katherine's literally never backed down from an argument in the twenty-plus years they've been friends. Puzzled, Caroline turns, trying to see what caught Kat's attention.

The club features several VIP lounges, each located at the top of a short staircase and decorated with wide velvet sofas and crystal chandeliers. There's an attendant who keeps booze and food flowing. It's clever – the sofas are inviting and squishy, tend to force people close together. The chandeliers ensure that anyone who happens to take a picture can get a decent shot, and the free flow of liquor has lowered the inhibitions of at least half a dozen celebrities, resulting in photos that send the gossip blogs into a tizzy as soon as they hit the internet.

When Caroline spots Klaus across the way, a redheaded model sprawled in his lap, she's immediately fuming.

"Looks like he got tired of waiting," Kat drawls. "Wanna reconsider the tequila?"

"Katherine. I love you. But zip it."

Katherine makes a face but leaves Caroline alone, turning to another one of their friends and asking a question. Caroline takes a deep breath, counts to ten.

She'd busted her ass to make him appear family-friendly enough to land the movie with the very PR-conscious studio that had netted him the big fat checks Katherine had just been crowing over. He's jeopardizing that on the eve of the most significant press tour of his career.

She looks over again, leaning forward. The redhead's moved away, she's sitting at Klaus' side, and they now appear to be merely engaged in conversation. Caroline does her best to think like a photographer – is there an angle that could make the scene look tawdry?

Probably not. So really, Klaus isn't jeopardizing anything.

Caroline's anger doesn't cool at the revelation.

She's so screwed.

She's on her feet before she decides to be, stalking down the stairs. She hears Katherine yelling borderline lewd encouragement at her back, but Caroline knows better than to take her advice.

She's marching over to diffuse, not inflame.

Hopefully.

Saturday, May 1st, 9:01 AM

She finds Klaus in his living room, asleep, his legs hanging awkwardly over the arm of a too-short couch, his torso twisted so awkwardly that Caroline's back twinges sympathetically. With the confirmation that she had stolen his bed, more of Caroline's irritation fades. The shower had helped, as had the bottle of water she'd guzzled and the three Tylenol she'd popped.

She takes a seat on his coffee table, setting down her second bottle of water. Caroline reaches out, shaking his shoulder gently. "Klaus," she murmurs when he begins to stir. "Wake up."

She could probably leave him to sleep. Klaus' stylist will handle most of his packing; he's borrowed a dizzying volume of outfits and accessories for Klaus to wear on this trip. The announcement won't come for another two weeks, but Klaus is shooting a Dior cologne ad once his press obligations wrap. The brand had requested he start wearing the newest line. Caroline had attended the last fitting, and she'd had a hard time keeping her blatant ogling under wraps.

Klaus looks good in ratty jeans, in a suit tailored to his measurements? Just about anyone attracted to men would have struggled not to appreciate the sight.

That's how Caroline had justified letting her emails pile up that afternoon.

She'd been a little worried about her control slipping on this trip, once they were alone in the hotel, and Klaus dropped the shiny, press-perfect façade he's learned to maintain. Caroline had designed that mask to appeal to the broadest possible audience. Doing interview prep has unfortunately only emphasized how much more she likes Klaus without it.

Klaus stretches, eyes fluttering open. "Good morning," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep. "I hope you slept better than I did."

Caroline winces, "Don’t you have a guest room or two you could have shoved me in?”

He smiles lazily, “You were quite insistent on touring my bedroom.”

Her eyes slam shut, face heating, “And that is why I don’t drink tequila unsupervised,” she grumbles.

He laughs, sitting up, his legs bracketing hers. He reaches for her water bottle and helps himself to a sip. Caroline leans back, fishing the Tylenol out of the pocket of the hoodie she’d stolen from his closet. She’d needed something bulkier to hide the fact she hadn’t been able to convince herself to strap her bra back on. “Do you want these?” she asks, rattling the bottle.

Klaus shakes his head, “I’m not hungover. I didn’t drink at all, and you stole that shot of tequila that was meant for me, remember?”

Ohhh no. She’d forgotten about that. She’d stolen his and the model’s.

Which, in hindsight, goes a long way to explaining what had happened after. Caroline’s problem with tequila is that once she starts, she has a hard time stopping. It heightens her usually non-existent impulsive streak, leads to sub-par decisions.

Occasionally, tequila does make her clothes fall off.

Caroline buries her hands in her face, wishing she hadn’t tied her hair back. She’s mortified, probably growing splotchy. “I am so sorry,” she mutters.

Klaus sighs, tries to tug her hands away. Caroline resists, tensing her muscles, wishes she’d gone with her first instinct and fled out the backdoor. He rests his hands on her knees, squeezing, voice dipping into coaxing tones. “No apology necessary. I’m not the least bit upset.”

Unfortunately, Caroline’s totally up to the task of being upset enough for the both of them.

Friday, April 30th, 10:53 PM

Once the attendant in Klaus VIP area confirms that he does know Caroline and lets her up the stairs, Klaus has managed to increase the distance between his body and the model’s. He seems pleased to see her, grabbing her hand and tugging her to sit next to him on the couch.

Close enough that they’re connected thigh to shoulder.

The model, whose name Caroline doesn’t particularly care about, is less welcoming. She glares daggers at Caroline’s hand, still enclosed in Klaus’. He makes polite introductions. “Genevieve, this is my publicist and very good friend, Caroline Forbes. Caroline, Genevieve. She’s a friend of Kol’s.”

Klaus’ younger brother is also an actor, still firmly in the throes of his wild child phase. Caroline finds him entertaining, despite her best intentions, but he’s known to delight in making her job more complicated. She glances around suspiciously, “Is Kol here?”

Klaus gestures vaguely to the dance floor. “Somewhere. He dragged me out to celebrate a pilot he booked, then disappeared.”

Hmm, that could lead to disaster. Caroline wonders if she should shoot his publicist a text as a professional courtesy.

Caroline smiles at Genevieve sharply, “So sweet of you to keep Klaus company.” It’s mean, but Caroline wonders if Genevieve has somehow heard about Klaus’ Dior deal through the grapevine. Maybe she’s aiming for a co-starring role – Caroline’s read the treatment for the commercial; it’s supposed to be streamy.

Oh, good lord, High School Caroline has somehow time traveled and taken over her body.

Genevieve pastes on an equally fake smile (at least Caroline’s not the only one regressing). Before she can snipe back, a silver tray is set in front of them, two shots resting on it. The attendant catches Caroline’s eye, “Can I get you anything, Miss?”

Klaus interrupts, squeezes her hand in an absent apology, “Sorry, there must be some mistake. I ordered a water.”

He’s contractually obligated to maintain a ridiculously chiseled body. Caroline’s got a reminder in her phone to order him a pile of celebratory spaghetti after his press obligations are officially over and he can relax for a few months.

The attendant’s eyes flit to Genevieve in confusion, “I…”

“I cancelled that,” she chirps, sliding her hand up Klaus’ arm. Genevieve leans in, tone lowering to what Caroline thinks is supposed to be a seductive level. “Figured we would toast.”

Caroline catches it because she’s practically plastered to Klaus’ other side. “Who toasts with tequila?” she asks. “Other than creeps at bars, I mean.”

Had Caroline not been well acquainted with Katherine Pierce, she might have been intimidated by Genevieve's attempt at a lethal glare.

Caroline stares back, reaching blindly for the first shot. She tosses it back, then the second, fighting the shudder that wants to wrack her frame through sheer willpower alone.

“Bitch,” Genevieve mutters, standing and flouncing away.

It’s petty, but Caroline savors her win.

Klaus is staring at her oddly, a touch concerned. “Maybe we should get you some water, love.”

Saturday, May 1st, 9:04 AM

“There were more shots when I got back to Kat’s party,” Caroline moans. “I’m going to kill her. She knows my weaknesses.”

“While I am reluctant to defend your irritating friend, she did seem rather intent on her fun. It was her birthday, wasn’t it?”

Caroline nods, “Yeah. And Kat’s always been firmly convinced that she should get to do whatever her little black heart desires on her birthday.”

“She did insist I ensure you get home safely. I’m afraid you were rather reluctant to supply your address.”

She sighs, finally dropping her hands. “Honestly, I just moved into a condo. I might not have remembered it.” That’s the less embarrassing option. It’s probably more likely that tequila drunk Caroline had crafted a plan to seduce Klaus, and step one entailed getting invited to his house. “I know you said not to apologize, but I obviously put you out. I’m supposed to babysit you, not the other way around.”

Klaus laughs, his knee nudging hers. “I haven’t needed that for ages, as you well know.”

He has a point – Caroline likely wouldn’t have agreed to take him on if he was still indulging in public drunkenness and paparazzi punching. When she’d first met with Klaus, it had been out of curiosity. She’d made a comfortable living from her client roster, did not need to take on the project of a difficult actor.

Klaus’ bad behavior had been a few years in the past, and he’d just come off a run of festival darlings and had produced a surprise hit sci-fi drama. He’d been frustrated by the doors that remained firmly shut to him, had laid his ambitions on the table.

Caroline had been intrigued. While she’s excellent at her job, but it’s always easier to work her magic with clients who are willing to dive into the work. Klaus’ talent was undeniable; she’d thought he could be a household name with the right opportunity. She’d agreed to take him on, and three years later, it’s paid off.

Caroline tugs the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over her hands, eyes on the frayed trim. “I was mad when I saw you last night, and that wasn’t fair. You’d set you were resting up for the press tour, but it’s not my business if you changed your mind.”

“Did you think I was resuming some bad habits?” Klaus asks. “I know that particular venue has a… reputation. Probably why Kol picked it.”

Caroline sneaks a glance at him, trying to gauge how he feels, but he’s not giving much away. “No, not really. I trust you. I wasn’t thinking super logically.”

She has to admit, at least to herself, that she’d been jealous. Caroline’s going to have to think about how deep that goes, if the feelings that had slapped her in the face last night will prevent their working relationship from being effective. What if Klaus meets someone? Will she be able to plant sneaky tidbits about how happy they are, scour the gossip blogs for rumors that could become issues?

“You? Not thinking logically? However could that be?”

She glares at him, though she knows his teasing is good-natured. “Some of it was the booze. I totally wouldn’t have hauled you onto the dance floor without it. And I wouldn’t have… well, you were there.”

She’s not up to list her transgressions. If Klaus hadn’t been drinking, then his memory of her wandering hands, her flirtatious comments, and heated invitations should be crystal clear. Caroline had been drunk, and she’s having a hard time not dwelling on the kiss – which, to be fair, Klaus had enthusiastically participated in – that she’d initiated.

“I was there. I have no objections to anything that occurred last night, save perhaps wishing you’d been sober.” Her head snaps up, eyes widening in shock, and Klaus laughs incredulously. “Surely you must know of my interest in you, Caroline.”

She’s suspected, but she’s also well aware that Klaus has no shortage of offers. Last night is proof of that. Caroline has always assumed that take one of them, at some point, and his flirtatiousness with her would fade away. She’d dated an actor or two when she’d moved to LA after wrapping up college. Caroline had been working insane hours then, trying to claw her way past the other assistants at the agency where she’d worked. Her exes from that time period had been quick to move on once they realized she wasn’t willing to center her universe around them.

“Interest can be fleeting.”

“It’s been three years.”

“You never made a real move.”

Again, Klaus counters quickly. “You’d not have accepted, and then you’d likely have pawned me off on someone else.”

Yeah, he’s got a point there. “I’m your publicist.”

“I have no objection to mixing business with pleasure. If you do, I suppose I’m willing to suffer a less competent publicist.”

“I’m beginning to suspect you’ve been plotting.”

Klaus shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “Perhaps a bit. I’ve always been entirely honest with you, I merely prevented a situation that would lessen the time we spent together until such a time as you were ready to consider me in a romantic light.”

“That’s a lot of words to confess you’ve been trying to flirt me into submission while flashing your hot body at every opportunity,” Caroline grumbles.

Klaus’ smile widens, dimples now visible. “It seems to have worked. Assuming that you meant the things you said to me last night?”

“I…” she hadn’t been expecting him to ask her that directly. She should have been – Klaus is skilled at choosing the best way to catch someone off guard. Caroline glances away from him, eyes catching on the clock across the room. Crap. She has so much to do. “I have to go,” Caroline tells him, standing up.

His eyes narrow,  and his head tips to the side, like he’s searching for a sign of weakness. Both telltale indicators that Klaus is gearing up to argue. Caroline holds up a hand, “I know, okay? This looks like I’m running away, and technically I am, but this is not the time to begin that mixing you mentioned. We’ve both worked too hard to risk screwing up the next few weeks. Did you read your contract? The fines for non-compliance are no joke.”

“Now is not the time,” Klaus says slowly. “Meaning?”

“We table it now. I’m open to a discussion later.” Three weeks is plenty of time for her to sort out where she stands, right? Caroline never sleeps on flights anyway.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I want a timeline. I understand that you feel obligated to ensure this press tour goes smoothly, but you can only use it as an excuse until it’s over, love. I’m prepared to be persuasive.”

“What, do you want me to schedule something on your calendar? Maybe set an agenda?”

“No need to be so formal. Just agree to have dinner with me once we return. Here, if you’d like, so we don’t risk inflaming the tabloids before you’re ready.”

“You seem awfully sure that this is going to go a certain way. So eager to fire me?”

Klaus gets to his feet, and Caroline sucks in a nervous breath. Sitting across from each other, he’d been a reasonable distance away. Now, with both of them standing in the narrow gap between his couch and coffee table, if one of them breathes too deeply or shifts deliberately, they’ll be plastered together.

She’s tempted despite knowing she’s right about the timing.

Klaus rests his hand on her waist and turns them so Caroline could step back if she wanted to.

She stays where she is.

A tiny smile curls Klaus’ lips and his hand moves, pressing her closer. “As much as I enjoyed your more… explicit ramblings last night, I must confess my favorite revelation was when you confessed to just how long you’ve had them.”

Caroline, not for the first time, curses tequila’s wretched existence.

Wednesday, May 5th 2:20 PM

The meet and greets are going to kill her.

Caroline had thought they were a good idea when she’d poured through the itinerary the studio had sent over. Inviting popular bloggers, auctioning off tickets for charity, allowing fans to enter random draws – it’s great PR and provides the opportunity for viral moments, while also controlling the environment.

Caroline’s leaning against one of the walls, unnoticed, eyes on her client.

A lot of eyes are on her client, some of which irritate Caroline more than others. The two teenage girls, trailed by an exasperated dad, who’d both burst into tears when Klaus had smiled at them? Totally adorable. The nerdy college student who’d grilled Klaus about his character’s comic backstory? Kind of a pain, but Klaus had done his homework, and Caroline had been impressed.

And annoyed. Excessive preparation is very attractive and unhelpful at this juncture of the press tour. Caroline’s already begun to reconsider what they’d agreed to, wonders if knocking on his hotel room door on the last night would be such a bad thing.

That line of thinking might be overly influenced by the scene in front of her.

Klaus is speaking with a woman in an afternoon inappropriate silver dress. Caroline’s sorely tempted to have her escorted out by security. She’d slipped a key card into the back pocket of Klaus’ jeans within 90 seconds of meeting him.

He’s handed it back, said something that made her laugh. They’re still talking.

Klaus glances up, eyes landing on her immediately. Caroline hastily tries to soften her irritated expression lest he guesses its reason. Klaus smiles, subtly tips his water bottle in her direction. Silver Dress invades his personal space a little more.

Ugh. It’s gonna be a long three weeks.

#klaroline #klarosummerbingo #klaroline fanfiction

[chemicalpink]

Astrology Series  ♡ NSFW Mars Sign: How they are in bed, turn-ons, turn-offs + kinks

A/N: Today may I deliver some NSFW Astrology analysis. I’m working on something so I thought of leaving this here for you. Please bear in mind that these are just assumptions and are in no way to be taken as the mere truth since these are based off of their birth charts and astrology in no way defines a person or their value. 

Warnings: NSFW content. It has sexual content. Kinks. Sub/Dom themes. Impregnation. 

Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon  [Cancer Mars]

You must be clean af if you want to get it on with them, I’m talking a full-on ‘here are my tests from two weeks ago’ type of clean.

Sex and Love are not mutually exclusive, they are more like two sides of the same coin for them so if you’d like to have sex with them you’ll need to be fully committed to them first.

They have huge mental stimulation so they might plan ahead any fantasy that they would like to try out in bed.

They appreciate a few teasing sexts here and there to keep them developing fantasies inside their heads.

Cancer Mars are the most protective and sentimental in relationships but during sex too, they are the ones to hold you close while inside of you like they never want to let go.

One-night stands are a huge no no for them. Can’t do. 

If you want to bed them, you really must be different from the rest. They need to know there is a spark within you that gets them to feel secure around you.

VERY ROMANTIC like hella into holding your hand at all times during sex, caressing your face, sloppy kisses, all that romantic and erotic stuff.

Pleasers. Let’s be honest, we been knew, these guys would pretty much appreciate giving the best orgasms before their own.

Aftercare KINGS

Let’s talk the biggest kink for these guys: impregnation. Yeah, as much as they appreciate cleanliness, the do be thinking about having you not only full of their cum but round with their babies. 

Jung Hoseok [Aquarius Mars]

Open-minded af, honestly, we know Hobi isn’t one to judge anything that you could come up with sex-related or otherwise. 

Bratty or rather borderline playful, likes to tease A LOT if he knows it will get you worked up.

Goes thru kink phases. He might be really into this thing he just read and all of a sudden he would much rather do this other thing instead.

Will try anything once. ANYTHING & EVERYTHING. He might go back and have seconds on something that he really liked.

The most perfect for role play. Wanna act out any of your fantasies? He’s 100% down for it.

Doesn’t require a huge emotional commitment and out of this bunch, he might be the only one down to sleep with someone without actually having a relationship with them. Not one night stands tho, more like friends with benefits.

Phone sex HELLO. Do you honestly think it matters that he’s on a whole other continent? Nah, this man knows no borders, just pick up the damn phone and get ready to get sexy.

Toys Toys Toys. I cannot stress this enough, if it catches his eye, he’s got it in his bag. Weekly packages arrive, he’s got a new little friend to help out.

THIS MAN IS A WHOLE ASS DOM. Can we please refer back to Dior Hobi. Please.

Kim Taehyung [Capricorn Mars]

HELLO DOM TAE WE BEEN KNEW

A shit ton of expensive details before sex, I can totally picture him purchasing this set from agent provocateur beforehand and asking you to wear it for him. 

I mean a bottle of champagne? also check

A fancy-ass date beforehand, sure, no problem

Praise kink, more like… Worshipping kink. He would love it if you were to worship his dick during dirty talk.

Sensual slow and conventional. OKAY HEAR ME OUT I’M NOT SAYING VANILLA TAETAE BUT yeah, kinda. It is nothing bad tho. Vanilla can be pretty passionate. 

I’m talking lovemaking until the wee hours of the morning

Most attracted to someone experienced. He is just fascinated with the idea of dominating someone who is far more experienced in sex than he is. 

Like to be taken care of. Dom baby Tae. After sex cuddles and stuff.

King of controlling himself. YOU CAN EDGE THIS MAN FOR CENTURIES HE DOESN’T CARE.

...until he gets you all to himself.

Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook [Scorpio Mars]

Possessive clingy babies of this bunch. 

Power Dynamics are a thing for these two. Like, I know they look sub/switch or soft doms but THEY WILL NOT HESITATE.

Trying out various kinks. Not as many as Hobi, but they got their fair share of ideas in mind to try out.

Will easily dominate a bratty sub. You know how Jimin is supposedly the scariest when angry? And JK is a muscle bunny that the rest of the members run from? Yeah, you don’t wanna get them to switch on full dome mode. Or maybe you do. I can’t tell you what to do. 

Can get you wet with just looking into your eyes. Fierce eyes. KINGS OF DUALITY. 100% guarantee to get you on your knees by just staring and a signature smirk of theirs.

Sex must be deep, passionate and extraordinary. Like no other before and will most probably ruin you for anyone else.

They give it their all, as if its gonna be the last. You don’t think it can get any better, until it does. And oh man. 

Full intensity and commitment. I’ve said it. Possessive clingy babies. If you are gonna get their everything in bed you have to give your everything out of bed in exchange.

Learn about mind and soul through sex. They have this deep connection with themselves and their partner that sex is an out of body experience. Yep. That’s a thing.

Most powerful personal magnetism and WE BEEN KNEW. There is just so much more behind their talent and look and everything that we are able to see, when in their presence you just HAVE TO look at them, fill up your soul with their mere existence. 

Masters of revenge if you tease them. Like, on a whole another level.

They might even wait 6 years for a bathroom break while filming cake decorating on FESTA. Yoongi knows about this.

Enough drive and stamina to meet and exceed any expectations. These two might be able to go on and on for hours on end. Have you ever tried to pull an all nighter but for sex? These two might be your best shot. Plus, when you get up after a nap, they could totally go for a morning round.

Continuos foreplay: I’m talking, stares, hand never leaving your skin, clinging onto you, sexual innuendos over text. all that jazz. We’ve been here before. Kings of stamina. 

Scorpio Mars does come with a warning tho (It’s a price to pay for all the good things from the most passionate sign). They might get so infatuated with you that they will never NEVER leave your side. They want to become one with their partner. So kiss goodbye any alone time. 

#networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #bts smut #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts astrology #seokjin smut #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #jimin smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #seokjim imagines #namjoon imagines #yoongi imagines #hoseok imagines #jimin imagines #jungkook imagines #taehyung imagines

[piccolini-cuscino]

Getting to the truth.

You’re Bruce’s assistant, but more than that, you’re his friend – his only friend. So, naturally, when he arrives at his own party injured and looking worse for wear, you’re worried. But there’s more than one truth-bomb in store for you!

Note: I had no idea how to finish this one, so it’s a bit garbage (you have no idea how much I wanted to change it up and have it basically be the fic version of Secretary, but alas, this is boring and smut free), but I’m so here for an emo millennial Bruce Wayne and a lil but of humour with my angst.

“Why am I organising a ball for all of Gotham, when Bruce won’t show up?” you sighed, turning to Alfred.

“Listen, I’m just the butler. How am I supposed to know what Master Bruce gets up to at night?”

“You live here, Alfred.”

Alfred leaned in close, peering at you from above his round spectacles. “And you’re his very beloved assistant.”

“Don’t remind me,” you huffed. “They’re only showing up for him, you know. They don’t care about the Wayne Foundation. Orphanages and education. He’s the richest man in Gotham, and no one’s seen him in years. The press would kill for a glimpse too.”

Alfred was fond of you. He always had been. He reckoned you brought a little bit of light to the place the second you walked into Wayne manor, fresh out of college. So, you knew his words were sincere when he spoke, with a gentle pat on the arm. “Well I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“Good enough for me,” you said, turning towards the door. “I’m going home to get ready. There’s a new Dior suit hanging in the wardrobe. Tell the boss to wear it, will you? And remind him to tuck his shirt in. That’s if he decides to show up.”

It was a night of your own making, and you watched it unfold from the lobby. Checking off names. Stopping drunken high society snobs from vomiting into 17th century vases. Directing everyone and their dog towards the bathrooms. But, for the most part, you found yourself alone, dancing with yourself in the cracks of pale moonlight that streamed like silver ribbons on to the sparkling checkerboard floor. No sign of your boss.

Until something caught you off guard. Quiet, shuffling footsteps over by the study at the foot of the staircase. A dark figure emerged from the shadows, hobbling, ascending. Step by step.

“Hey! You can’t go up there!” you called.

The figure moved faster, breaking into a pained jog.

With nothing else to do, you threw off your heels and sprinted after the intruder. Taking the stairs two at a time. They were heading for Bruce’s bedroom. No one, not even the various women he liked to entertain – not even you, as close as you were – went in there. He was a tremendously private man.

Finally, reaching out, you managed to grab their arm.

The figure flinched away in pain, then they turned to you.

“Bruce?” you gasped, feeling your heart race at the sight of him. His dark hair, unkempt and dishevelled; jet black rings around his eyes. His whole body seemed to tremble and heave. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. Then he broke out into a witter. “Go back downstairs, I’ll be there in a minute, I’d hate to miss out on all of your hard work. I just need to–”

But you pulled him back, swiping your thumbs through the muck beneath his eyes. They were blue, but they always looked so dark. Like a pained void. “You need to clean yourself up. Let me help you.”

“You don’t need to see me like this. Go and enjoy your evening. I’m speaking to you as your boss. Please. Go.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne.” You straightened up at his words and turned away. But before you reached the stairs, he called your name. If looks could kill, Bruce might have been a heap on the floor. But those eyes, again, dulled any hurt you felt about the distance between you.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye. It was a battle even just to thank him politely for the compliment. And your legs shook all the way back to the lobby, through a strange mix of worry and giddiness.

You kept yourself to yourself for twenty minutes, alone with your panic, before Bruce returned. Gone was the darkness around his eyes, and his hair was neatly slicked back. He cut a strong, proud figure as he walked towards you in his suit. Even if he was sporting a limp and clutching his side with every step.

“I thought I told you to enjoy the party?” he smiled.

“Sorry, Bruce. There’s just no one to watch the door and show people where the…” You trailed off as he gently took your arm, leading you through into the reception hall. A warmth radiated from him, soothing but stoic. Nothing like the frantic panic from before.

“Help me get through this,” he muttered as the room fell silent. All eyes on you and Bruce.

The party quickly resumed; music played and the chatter of the guests around you echoed through the hall. Occasionally, beneficiaries of the Wayne Foundation would introduce themselves to your boss, or business bigwigs would try to bend his ear about trade deals and contracts and bureaucracy. But one thing was constant throughout the whole ordeal – Bruce’s hand never once left its place on your waist.

You could feel it there. The way his fingers would trail through the material of your dress as people talked and talked and talked to him. And the tension, when he balled his fingers up into a fist when faced with people that he just didn’t have time for. All those little cues forced the question from your lips. “Would you like to dance?”

You knew he didn’t dance. He hated it, in fact. But in that moment, the gratitude was evident on his small, weak smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Something was wrong, though. He flinched when your hand draped over his shoulder. His gait was unsteady. And no amount of makeup could disguise the bruise underneath his left eye. You kept glancing up at it as the two of you daintily spun circles around the room. And he kept glancing down at you, knowing now that you had noticed.

The song ended and Bruce’s hands dropped to his sides. “I think I’ve had enough for one night,” he said with another defeated smile. “People might begin to talk.”

“I think we need to talk, Bruce.”

His eyes darted over his surroundings before they returned to you; his lower lip pinched between his teeth.

“Please,” you pressed.

“Come with me.”

You and Bruce slumped into two cosy armchairs in his study, with a roaring fire, a coffee table and two glasses of scotch between you. “Don’t think Alfred and I haven’t noticed you sneaking off all the time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stared at the flames. “I’m your boss, remember?”

“You’re also my friend. And you also looked like crap earlier. Who did that to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, shifting in his chair, letting out an audible groan.

“They obviously hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No you can’t. I think me being here says that much. C’mere,” you said, beckoning him.

“When you’re right you’re right.” Bruce might have been your boss, but he still knew better than to defy you; he slumped to his knees and shuffled over to you.

“Let me take a look at the damage.”

For the second time that night, Bruce recoiled from your touch as you gently pulled up his shirt, exposing a galaxy of bruises along his ribcage and a large, makeshift dressing on his lower abdomen. “Easy,” he said, swatting your hand away.

“How did you get that?” You peeled it away from his skin as gingerly as you could manage. Rather than concern, your voice grew cold. Serious, even. “What have you been doing?”

“I’m a little disappointed,” Bruce remarked through gritted teeth.

“How so?” you asked, running your fingertips over the slap-dash stitches that held together the vivid red gash.

“I thought this was something else.”

“Something’s eating you, though. And who did these stitches?”

“I did,” Bruce said, his jaw clenched.

“Can I redo them?”

Bruce was growing breathless by the time you finished inspecting his wound. “First aid kit’s in the top drawer of my desk,” he wheezed.

“Rubbing alcohol, too?”

“It’s all there.” Bruce wearily watched from the floor as your pale outline trailed its way across the study. His heart growing faster. “You really do look beautiful,” he said, his voice quiet and spiked with hope. He couldn’t meet your eyes when you looked up from rummaging in the drawer, so he stared down at the rug, finding interest there instead, with one hand clawing through his hair. “What was it that you wanted to ask me, by the way?”

“I really don’t like repeating myself, so cut the bullshit, Bruce.” You were so matter of fact, breezing back over to him and joining him on the floor. “I wanted to know where you go at night.”

“If I told you the truth, then you’d have me shipped off to Arkham.”

You poured some of the alcohol on to a cotton swab, keeping your eyes on Bruce. There was always something so defeated about him when the two of you were alone, that no one else ever got to see. And something always got in the way of him being honest with you. “Want to bet on that? How do you know I’m not already considering it?”

Bruce almost chuckled, but the sting from his side made him draw a sharp breath. He studied you out the corner of his eye. “Do you really… want to know?”

“It’d be nice to not have to spend my evenings with Alfred, who worries like a mother hen.”

Bruce choked out his next string of words in quick succession. “Can I tell you something first?”

“Before I cut you open?” you quipped.

“Preferably.”

Before Bruce reached the end of that word, you had already snipped through his self-administered stitches, revealing just how deep the wound actually was. Your feeble attempt at being jovial quickly switched to a reserved kind of worry.

“You’re the first person who’s ever really understood me. You never pry or say too much. You’re always there. And you have such a low tolerance for bullshit. You don’t coddle or bow down because I’m Bruce Wayne. Plus it’s nice to be around someone who isn’t in their sixties or who knew my father…”

You hummed in acknowledgement, neatly weaving the wire through Bruce’s skin. Too focused on the job at hand to really get what he meant. Until his fingertips brushed over your jawline.

“You’re my only friend in this godforsaken world.”

“Besides Alfred,” the pair of you said in unison.

Biting back a fit of laughter, you stroked his cheek and he keened, like an animal craving affection. “What are you trying to say, Bruce?”

Every fibre of Bruce’s being tensed with renewed panic and a tinge of awkwardness. His wide eyes searched for something, anything, to focus on, as long as it wasn’t you. “I’m…I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I’m–“

With a mental fuck it, you threw caution to the wind. You couldn’t stand hearing him bumble on like this. Closing the gap, your lips crashed on to his. He tasted like scotch and cigars, and this much of him was never going to be enough for you. Just when your hands tangled through his hair, Bruce pulled away.

“I’m the Batman.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Bruce nodded.

“I would’ve settled for ‘I’m in love with you’ you know.”

He sighed, sitting back so casually now that the difficult part was over. “That, too.”

“You can’t lie to me anymore, you know that, don’t you?”

He nodded again.

“So,” you said, glancing around the study, “which bookcase is actually a revolving door?”

“Huh?” Bruce asked, pulling down his shirt.

“Secret lair… a bat cave, if you will.”

“Oh,” he said with a chuckle. Then he pointed towards the bookcase behind you. “It’s that one. Pull out Ulysses and it’ll… spin right round. Be careful not to let the bats out, though. They’re kind of like my pets.”

“Fuck you, Bruce.”

“I can show you if you want?” he said, hopefully, as he scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll settle for another kiss. And you getting some rest.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“What, the bat part or the other part?”

Bruce chuckled and planted a small, soft kiss to your forehead. “Both.”

“I had my suspicions. One thing’s for sure though…”

“What?”

“You might need a few pointers with your eyeliner.”

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson #robert pattinson #bruce wayne #the batman

[hopefullystillliving]

Hello, I'm your Tolkien Secret Santa! I'm so excited to begin working on your gift, I'm already debating between several ideas.

I just wanted to ask if you had anything specific in mind that you'd like to see included? And if you had any headcanons about Doriath as a place! Culture, terrain, magic, anything that makes it a setting /you/ recognize. If not, don't worry about it! But I thought I'd ask!

So eager to get started, thank you for your time!

Hello! Sorry this took a while to answer, I had to type up everything (apologies in advance for how much stuff I've written lol, I've just dumped a whole bunch of headcanons in here. I hope you find some of it useful!) and link stuff and also hack into my drawing tablet that I'd forgotten the password to and hadn't used in a year :P

Also, absolutely don't feel obligated to use everything I've put here, I really like seeing other people's takes on my Best Fam, and a whole bunch of my headcanons for Doriath are actually pretty loose, so if anything doesn't vibe with you, feel free to toss it!

Putting everything under the cut for the sake of the Dash

I don't remember exactly what I put on my sign-up, (I'm pretty sure I mentioned the Nolofinweans too? Whoops this is Not about them, hmu if you want a huge ramble about the Lesser Hellspawn too lol) but I think I forgot to mention that while I put "no ships" I'm fine with canon ships so long as the romance isn't the center focus (Esp. if you want to do family fluff with Beren, Luthien, & Dior) I'm not squicked by romance at all, but I don't know what your position on ships is, so if you don't want to please don't feel obligated! I'm also pretty sure that I forgot to mention a DNW of mine- I see Daeron as Luthien's younger brother and nothing else, which is one of the few headcanons I refuse to budge on.

For specific stuff I'd like: I really like good wholesome family fluff, and I'm really weak for the idea that related by blood or not you still should choose your family. I've got a whole Thing about Daeron and Luthien choosing to be siblings, Daeron choosing to be there for Dior, Beren choosing Finrod, Huan choosing Beren and Luthien, Luthien choosing Beren and mortality, etc. Choices make me soft.

Related: my opinions on Melian and Thingol are... not great. I'm working on a headcanon post/fic about it rn, but didn't want to slow this down any more, so to sum up: I think they did what they thought was best, and genuinely love their children, but legitimately do not understand what they want/need- Thingol is overprotective, Melian Doesn't Get incarnates. Post Silm quest they improve and get more accepting, though they still don't really understand, but the relationship between them and their kids is never very close.

(I've also got a very specific weak spot for Beren and Luthien's could've- would've- should've been friendship with Finrod and the gang. Another headcanon I refuse to budge on is that Beren hung out with Finrod and co when he was stuck in Mandos, and Luthien got to properly meet them all. But that's super specific and requires a Lot of ocs, so please don't do it unless it really inspires you lol.)

Here are some posts on my vision of the characters + dynamics, specifically: Daeron as Luthien's brother, Beren ROCKS, How I write Eldritch Luthien (+ Melian's Domain), Name headcanons!, there beneath the willow tree (fic- Daeron is Best Uncle), and I don't know if you want/need visuals but Melian, Daeron, Luthien (+doodle dump) (+her, Beren, and Huan)- also literally all the Luthien art by Kokiri85 (here's a specific one) and by @carlandrea

I do have a picture of Doriath, I did it in 30 min for art class last year, so it's not amazing but it's a good enough jumping off point: a dead part of Doriath, as seen through Melian's Girdle (the purple grid).

I see Doriath vaguely as having two general "types" of forest: "Normal" (pretty enchanted forest, nightingales are a little sus, some things glow, par for the magical course), and the Deep Woods (where stuff gets Weird, proper Eldritch Faerie-Land, you will not be coming out of here without a guide and/or Melian taking pity). In a few very small areas the Deep Woods turn to Dark Woods (Definitely cursed, probably give you magic radiation poisoning, everything is Undead and Immortal, High concentration of Melian's magic, usually either places she frequent(s/ed) or near the border that need more defense (Nan Elmoth was a result of this)) I have two fics about this: A Cruel Forest and This is a Forest, which both either state or imply that Doriath itself is debatably sentient as a result of Melian's magic

For terrain, I went to Alaska last summer and now it's basically the ideal Beleriand in my mind. Doriath has a milder climate- it's essentially the platonic ideal of a mostly deciduous forest, the St Croix River Valley in Minnesota is a good approximation, though obviously it's a river valley, while Doriath is not. Any really pretty forests work, honestly. There's wildflowers everywhere, and fruit trees (probably enchanted), and conveniently placed (literally) creeks and streams. It's also very magically circuitous- you might walk in a perfectly straight line and end up where you started, or going left might lead the same way as going right will.

Culture! This is... harder. I'm focusing on Menegroth here, but I have more of a general vibe I'm going for, rather than this being hard-and-fast. I see typical clothing as being fairly typical medieval fantasy fare- though a little heavier on the medieval, with some Chinese hanfu influence- the hair also, though with more braids, when convenient it's designed to show off as much length as possible (Luthien always wears hers down, which ususally signifies someone wild/who doesn't care much about appearance. She, Melian, and Daeron also never wear shoes). Lots of flowers, either fake or real (fresh or dried). Furs are worn in the winter, but it's seen as sketchy to wear the fur of a predator you/ your family didn't hunt, so while a hunter's family might have wolf-coats, a noble probably wouldn't. On the subject of hunting, songbirds are basically sacred, given Melian, so you don't hunt one without necessity.

(This headcanon is tiny and not very well formed but there's absolutely a secret cult dedicated to Melian, and while people might say that it's bad form, inwardly everyone has probably prayed to her once or twice because if there's an angel who has demonstrably protected you from satan, you want to keep that angel.)

Lots of really pretty fabric designs and embroidery based on the nature in Doriath (the less Spooky parts, at least), symmetry isn't really big, but the Golden Ratio (Fibonacci sequence) and fractals are. Usually there isn't a consistent pattern as the main focus. I've arbitrarily decided that they have a good way of making purple dye. Generally bright, cooler colors are preferred, to match the forest, but the goal is more "flowers" and less "mossy stone". They're very good at making camouflages for the guards and hunters, though, like the cloaks in Lothlorian.

Metal work is eh to them. Useful, but as a whole they aren't super into it. Especially after the Noldor (who love it) show up and get on the Iathrim's bad side. They like it in small doses, and heavily prefer silver to gold. On a related note- piercings are nearly nonexistent, except for on the really old elves who remember Cuivienen and/or the Great Journey, or some Laiquendi who live near the border.

They're all really into the Arts, Menegroth is covered in flowy half-abstract carvings and knotwork (influence of the dwarves), mosaics are really popular since they're more sturdy than paintings. Tapestries help keep the stone of the caves warmer. Song and dance is huge- performances happen constantly, available to anyone. I imagine it varies from more traditional songs of epic poetry performed by one person, to massive choirs. I'm not very knowledgeable about dance, but I think they've got something like ballet with a "greek" chorus backing it. Their plays are probably a lot like ancient greek ones structurally, too. Speech and song is very important, since speech is literally how they distinguish themselves as sentient, and music created the universe. In general, improvisation is valued, but there's a very specific structure to it. So it looks free and natural, but actually it's very rigid. (Symbolism for the rest of their culture? Yes.)

Menegroth itself looks like it was perfectly grown as-is, with sculpture and carvings added to it. It also doesn't really feel like it's underground- there are massive sections without a roof that act as skylights, and a whole bunch of layers. Natural light and air is definitely a priority. Lots of entrances and exits, since it's so big. It's not very defensible, except for that the layout is utterly nonsensical to anyone unfamiliar, and the enchanted forest + forcefield around it.

My opinions on Elvish magic are honestly worth a post unto itself, so to sum up: most of the stuff we would consider magic they don't. It's a type of art- to seemingly break natural laws and turn wool into shifting camouflage, or to gather starlight in stone, and it's based in the Song. What they call magic is very elemental- the three broad categories are water, air, and fire, which then break down/combine into smaller categories (ie. ice/weather/wind/light/temp./earth) it's very difficult, and very rare for Sindar to learn (seen as slightly heretical- like attempting to imitate the Ainur)

Maiarin magic is a whole 'nother beast. It kind of seeps into the area based on power, proximity, and time. Basically, it's magic radiation, only less overtly deadly (although that depends on the Maia in question. Osse's probably causes a whole bunch of storms and Bermuda Triangle-esque phenomena which. Not exactly safe.) Lots of incomprehensible Eldritch stuff, and heavily Domain-based. Their magic is seen similar to how humans see elvish magic ("That's totally magic!" "No it's not? It's just another ability.") and, once again, is entirely Song based- even more than elvish magic since it was the Ainur who Sang Arda into being in the first place.

Phew ok that about wraps it up! Thanks for asking about all this, I take every possible opportunity to infodump. And thank you so much in advance! I'm really excited to see what you make!

#tolkien #ask #my headcanons #my art #doriath

[werezmastarbucks]

more like honeymoon [1]

stuck in the prison world together with kai, and it turns out to be awesome

kai parker x reader (ER)

word count: ~4160

warnings: mentions of suicide, suicide, graphic violence, glorification of violence

music: right in the text + darkside by iann dior and travis barker

DON’T WORRY BE HAPPY by Bobby McFerrin segment

You danced, while making sandwiches. This kitchen rocked. They had... they used to have about four hundred types of cheese.

The only thing they lacked seemed to be black bread, so you were forced to make one yourself. Kai was a bit grumpy about it since he wanted to move on to the library, and you got stuck in this hotel. He ended up going without you, while you had a go at making bread, and returned with a hip of books that he threw around in the lobby. He moved all the cozy puffed armchairs together and created a neat nest that didn’t seem to have an end, right in the middle. You were still getting used to how incredibly stylish everything was back in ‘94. The year was absolutely special to you, and you couldn’t have wished for a better year to get stuck in. The best music was already out, the fashion was on its peak, and they already thought of creating relatively skinny jeans - not the kind you enjoyed in the new world, but not the baggy horror of the eighties, either.

It’s been one month and a half that you stayed in the prison world, and it was going very well. So far, it felt to you like a long prepaid holiday with absolutely no restrictions. You were breaking into houses and raided supermarkets, you could visit any cafe and any shop, Kai changed cars every day unless it was a Chevy; maybe there was something dramatically wrong with your head, you had no way of knowing.

You were spreading California cheese on fresh, still warm slice of black bread, dancing goofily to music, and chopping tomatoes.

Kai was resting like a little birdie among the expensive cushions which you knew he’d spot with the tomatoes or the cheese, and you still brought the food out. He gasped, excited, and threw the books away, and you stuffed your faces.

Every day, which was the same day again and again, you discovered the new shades of good in him which was frankly unthinkable before. Kai Parker good; but it seemed like being back in prison either broke him completely, or, more likely, put him back into the environment he knew well. Sooner or later you work out your comfort zone; some people, spending years in imprisonment, learn to live and enjoy the place. Not because they’re weak, but because it’s a survival instinct. Kai’s survival instinct was unbelievably strong.

You listened to music and traveled, and every day you asked yourself when the horror will settle in, and it still didn’t. Looked like, with the right company, and the whole world to explore, the magical prison world could seem like a resort.

COME WITH ME by Phil Collins segment

You were standing on the edge of the Canyon. Kai was holding your hand, clearly thinking about something.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before”, he muttered.

You were considering other things.

“Where’s the path again?”

“Right there, where the river turns. There’s a narrow way between the rocks that leads up”.

He looked at you. The sun was slowly going up, climbing over the red mountains, coloring them in insane shades.

“We don’t have to do it, if you’re afraid”.

His face gave a mocking expression as he squeezed your hand lightly.

“I’m not afraid”.

“Then just do it. I gotta say, the first thing I’ll do when we get out, I will marry you”.

You got distracted from your thoughts by this. You looked at him. The rising sun was coloring him, too. Kai had that kind of face which you always wanted to hold. It was just so... holdable.

“You fucking with me?”

He shook his head with a smile.

“No. This place doesn’t even feel like a prison anymore. I love it. Because of you”.

Of course he loved it. He had the whole planet at his disposal, but he wasn’t alone anymore. He still had magic from the merge, and he was high and lovestruck. He was about to jump from the Grand Canyon and fall to death, and then come back and continue his journey.

You’d asked him before which way to die was the most painful. This was about to be your first time dying. Before that, you only witnessed people die.

He said being crashed by a car slowly was probably objectively the most painful. He has never set himself on fire because he wasn’t crazy.

The irony completely escaped him.

Feeling your joints tear, and bones shatter, and all, that’s the worst. But psychologically, suicide was scarier. Knowing that it’s your own hands doing that. Falling from a height like that, there was danger of breaking something and staying alive for a fragment of a second, being horrified by the violent collision with the sharp pieces of rocks, but you wouldn’t probably even notice. Jumping from the Canyon was your idea, and that was why he got so inspired.

You looked at each other. Dying together is fucking symbolic, and this world rocked. For a second there you thought, even if you didn’t know you would resurrect, you would still jump, as long as his hand was holding yours.

You interlocked your fingers not to lose each other too soon, and hopped down. The air whistled and howled in your ears as you fell down. It’s nothing like flying, you thought with disappointment. And too fast, as well. You see nothing but the racing red stone. The feeling of being free is still good, until you crash into the first step of the hard mountain, crushing your skull in several pieces.

The Grand Canyon didn’t hear you two die, it was too big.

It took you the whole day to get out, but it was okay because the next day was the same again.

HEARTS IN FLAMES by Red 7 segment

And the next one. And the next. You discovered something you kinda know, but can’t fathom completely until you actually go there: on the other side of the world, it began with night, because it was the eleventh of May after midnight. Somewhere, the time was going further, and somewhere it was slower.

You rode down the long sandy and stone roads in the deserts, and sped as much as you could, not afraid to crash. You ate at any place you wanted to, Kai showed you the ‘secret’ recipe of making the McDonald’s fries, and he cooked it so well you didn’t see any difference. The process looked disgusting, and you knew, once you got out, you’d never go to McDonald’s again.

Once we get out became a kind of a proverb, a catchphrase you used, hopeful and indefinite, and light-hearted. Neither of you really suffered or felt confined in here; you didn’t know when you’d get out, really, because this time the Mystic Falls gang seemingly made sure Kai never has a chance to walk the earth again. You were just there when they tried to send him away, and you wouldn’t have it.

There are several most important moments in a person’s life, and you knew, in a weird way, that was when you and him got absoultely, ultimately connected. It was your chance to stand up for him for once, and, more importantly, to show him that there is somebody after all who refuses to give up on Malachai. So they sent you away, too. Clutching hands together, as you held his open wound, because Kai kicked and bit better than anybody else you knew, and they had to stab him first, you flew away in a tunnel of white light, didn’t feel anything, and it was ‘94 again.

Once we get out had all kinds of plans you weren’t sure you’d fulfill. Like marrying, and getting a car, and moving away from Mystic Falls. Settling down in New Orleans was yours, and burning New Orleans down to the ground was his, because he didn’t want to live there.

Once we get out was a point in the future very vague and distant, because, three months since you landed in the front lawn of the Salvatore mansion in the past, you had only a spell that was useless without Bennett blood. Somebody, whoever hid the spell, overestimated its importance hugely, and went a very hard way to secure it. Kai found it in Florence, of all places. He couldn’t speak any Italian, and your saying you’re fluent in French only made him chuckle with adoration. Do not let it fool you, his adoring chuckle only meant he thought you were a silly creature. French is no use because it’s Italy, bella, he said. Your ass started arguing that a lot is similar in the languages, and he shut you out with jokes. Then went into the library. You preferred to spend time in the streets, cruising around and remembering everything Anne Rice used to write into them.

The spell was scribbled on the piece of yellow paper and put into The Name of Rose. The backup spell which allegedly could go round the whole blood routine. Kai tried it and nothing happened. You weren’t even that sorry, and you both looked at each other long, promising you would keep looking. But honestly...

The whole world. It was yours.

YOU GOT IT by Roy Orbison segment

You had to carry a big bag with you now with the clothes you ‘stole’ from shops because, even though you could change every day, there were still a couple of things you refused to let go of. Kai was trying to teach you to travel light, but the whole life spent in a usual world still had a hold on you.

You realized you liked sweet life, you liked staying at the big houses where the rich people of ‘94 used to live, with all the rich things they had. The pools were the same, and the mini bars, too. May was warm and sunny, especially so in warm and tropical places, and only in Madrid it constantly rained, again and again.

You realized you still had an overall petrifying respect for the pieces of art, but the prison world was an amazing chance to push your limits. Whatever you destroyed, returned back on its place the next day, because it was the same day. You watched Kai swing a bat at Venus herself. The poor gal didn’t have arms for all you knew. He had no mercy for her. Everything here was like a video game. Kai only did it to show you what it feels like. It seemed like he was determined to use this opportunity to make you completely liberate yourself, but something had a hold on him, too.

You danced a lot, you found it especially romantic to dance in the dim lights of the evening in the hotel lobbies. You could choose anything, anywhere, and yet, so it happened that when you finally got tired of traveling non-stop, you found yourselves in Las Vegas. Kai said, awesome, this city has the best hotels. You really doubted that.

But nothing was better than dancing with him, foreheads touching, in the empty, well-furnished space of the Cesar Palace, and sing to each other. Without other people constantly interrupting, the time and schedules, other faces triggering hatred or anxiety in him, it became so easy to just be with each other. You were high on the free wealth, the opportunities this empty planet provided. You had no idea how much Kai was really enjoying it.

The feeling of closeness was overwhelming, even you felt that. Sometimes you wouldn’t be able to let go of each other for days; Kai kept his journal he understandably abandoned once he got out of here the first time. Now, it was its second go. By the time you have finally had sex to every single song in your 576 songs playlist, it’s been seven months in the prison world.

Las Vegas was cool but it was a desert. However, the desert was simply magical at the end of the day, when the heat settled down, and the dense air cooled a little. You’d drive down the avenues of the empty city to look at the dark and lit buildings. Some of them looked occupied, but there was nobody. You never understood what determined which windows were lit.

CLOSE TO YOU by Maxi Priest segment

“Sometimes I was thinking about killing you”.

You’d be more surprised if Kai had never thought of it. When you love someone, you think about killing them constantly. The one option you never tried before left, which is an absolute no go. The forbidden apple of relationship, the ultimate joy of possession, feeling as the life drains from the one you love. You wondered if it would be scarier than jumping off the Canyon if he killed you. You didn’t know if that was Kai poisoning your mind already, or it was what made you two click in the first place.

“Now you have the chance”, you said. He looked a you, cocking his head, and examined you as if trying to understand if you’re joking.

“You want me to kill you?”

Uttering it was still a little bit too much. You were nervous about falling down that rabbit hole where the whole pushing the borders experiment turns into bloody twisted chaos, and you end up like the children from Gummo. Senseless, pointless violence, filthy, dictated only by lust or ignorance. Kai was far from that still. He was essentially hurt and curious, not filthy. He was bold in the ways he professed his violence. But there’s always this danger of going too far and not being able to pick yourself up anymore.

“I mean, it would be good for you. You know what your cravings do to you if you don’t let the steam off from time to time. Now you can kill me safely and close that door”.

He was thinking about it quietly.

“I’m not interested in hurting you anymore”.

It sounded like a song.

But he listened to you, and listened well.

“By the way, if I can kill you, then you can kill me, too”.

Your head snapped towards him.

“I know you”, he chuckled, “you always wanted blood. But you’ve never killed anybody, have you?”

You shook your head no. Kai was like a serpent playing disinterest, but you could see the tip of his tongue split two ways, showing through his sharp teeth as he spoke.

“It’s a changing experience. Nothing quite like it, a good exercise”.

“Did you actually enjoy hurting others?”

“It felt necessary”, he said simply. “I woud die if I didn’t. Better them than me”.

You looked at him blinking slowly. He was a textbook killer you’ve read about millions of times. The philosophical question of whether that darkness that pushes them towards violence has the bottom and end was still unanswered in the future. You yourself had some gems of unanswered mysteries inside of you. Why were you so attracted to this boy, what made you want to stick with him so much? Why this obsession with being the only one who cares for him? Momma complex much? The saint redeemer? He was just so so cute and murderous and that was it. Maybe you did come from a completely cursed generation after all.

“How would you do it?” Kai asked. You were sitting on the porch of a suburbs house you chose to squat in by the way. It was your ‘pretending like you’re middle class’ week.

“Stab you”, you replied, without thinking. “You?”

“I’ll choke you”, he responded, looking at you. You noted how he didn’t use the conditional, but the future. He has made his mind up.

He took his time, though, trying to intrigue, or unnerve you, perhaps. It’s been about two weeks, or even a month, and you almost thought he forgot about it, which wouldn’t be atypical of him. His thoughts were all over the place.

You really loved this house, resembling any house from a 90s sitcom, with that big family couch in the living room which had the way right into the kitchen.

You finished doing the dishes and put the last plates away. Kai usually cooked, and you did the cleaning, all was fair. He appeared silently, wrapping his hands around your waist, and distracted you with heated kisses. They were heated literally, like he had a fever; you turned to feel his skin, and drowned in the kiss. You felt the itchy hot wave coming up, as his hands slid down your hips, and suddenly, his fingers were on your throat. He broke the kiss, leaving your mouth open, and the next second his face was cold, eyes black like two pieces of coal and you recognized that old Kai whom you met at the Grill. While he was still pretending to be fun, pretending to be nice, before you two got together.

His palms closed on your neck and your brain went in overrun. A part of you knew that was something you had discussed beforehand, and he even chose the right time, just after the sunset, when the kitchen was only lit by the pink-scarlet cloud light. A part of you, the more physical chunk, started fighting him, and the air got blocked out from your throat. The feeling of your own cartilage pressing on your artery was one of the most disgusting types of pain you’ve ever experienced. Your hands flew up, slapping his face, but he could as well be made of stone. The murderousness of Kai Parker was unmatched. Like a bulldog, once he closed his clutch, there was only one way it’d end.

Slowly, as you suffocated, blood throbbing in your eyes, he laid you down, while the darkness was consuming you. Damn, it’s taking so long, you thought with a grudge. You’ll definitely kill this dick back. You knew choking someone takes minutes, but these minutes feel like agonizing hours when it’s you being choked. Just relax and try to enjoy it, your mind said, and you suffocated even further on the inner dying laughter. Your hands were shaking violently as they grabbed his, and you wiggled on the floor. He shook you once, banging the back of your head on the tiles, and you almost blacked out. Your body bent out towards his in a fake desire motion. He put his knee on your stomach to keep you in place and pressed further and you died slowly, confused the hell out, in pain, and a little but irritated.

IKO IKO by The Belle Stars segment

You stood there, looking at the row of knives. A song from the future got stuck in your head, where there were lyrics that went,

that you’ll love me more when I’m dead

Your overall mood has not changed. It was just so good to be together, all the time, like a long, magical [sic!] honeymoon. You did not argue. You weren’t upset. Sometimes you’d get slightly disappointed, entering supermarkets, like this one, and expecting people to be there. After all, you have spent a huge chunk of your life... well, all your life, surrounded by other people.

It was another side of good though, knowing, that Kai is the only other one here. He joked a lot about ‘the last girl on Earth’. He was extremely romantic about it.

One of the knives laid in your palm obediently. It was beautiful: short stirdy grey handle, and the sharp broad blade. You could almost see your own reflection in its perfectly clean steel. There’s something about knives. Something about their inevitability, their thinness. You weighed it in your hand, completely mesmerized. You liked knives and was always the one to chop all the food before Kai could cook it. You were the Chopper in this... family?

You turned to look at him, the tall, lean frame, his black as hell head cocked on the side as he was reading something on a pack of nuts. He never read anything from the packs, so you found it curious. What were you calling yourselves? He was like that demon who slides from below your bed and you hold its cold paw in the dark, questioning, what are we?

The way he looked at you, it really felt like he has reached the end of his path in searching. You’ve never seen him so calm before. And vice versa, he was the only one who ever made you feel like that. It was a unit. He never once called you his girlfriend, and it was different. You never spoke about it, except that one time on the Canyon when he said he’d marry you. He looked very sure about it, but, knowing him, you didn’t think much of it. It was one of the things you’d do once you get out...

You walked up to Kai, and as he turned to you, about to show you something that got him so interested in a plain pack of nuts, you stabbed him in the side of his body.

Kai gasped gently, like it was more of a kick, and, unsure if you’re applying enough force, you pressed further.

His hand didn’t even get down to stop you. Unlike you, he didn’t even begin fighting you. He shot you a short glance, and there was nothing but curiousity in his eyes. He’s died thousands of times. It was horrible to think about it, but he was used to this kind of pain. You asked yourself why you’re hurting him, of all people, but it was cold math. You had to get even, because that’s what you had both decided. Plus, once the blade was inside of him, you couldn’t stop yourself.

You stabbed him again, as he grabbed on a shelf no try and stay on his feet. The second hit went right into his abdomen, and you wondered at the thickness of his stomach; being an innocent child before, you believed that a human body would be like butter, since a knife is sharp and extremely thin. It turned out to be a bit harder than you expected.

Kai fell down and laid on his back, putting his hands aside. You suddenly realized, with bursting heart, that you were the only one person in any world that he allowed to kill him and didn’t even struggle. It was the ultimate demonstration of trust, better than any kind of I love you. The best thing he could ever do.

You sat on top of him, stabbing him again and again, trying different spots. The side proved to be the most vulnerable, and the chest was the hardest to break through because of the ribcage. When the blade got stuck against the bone, Kai was already dead, and your elbow hurt. No matter how much you climbed and how much heavy stuff you carried here, you weren’t becoming stronger, because one day’s excercise does nothing.

The blood was splattering onto his face and yours, and then you got tired, and horror finally seized you. At some point you stopped being curious, and became enraged for no reason, stabbing him blindly, just because he was good being stabbed.

You stopped, panting, and looked into his white face with his eyes open, turned away, drops of his own blood on his chin. Your hands were red as you touched his open wounds, and your own stomach seemed to have sucked on itself with fear.

Why did I do this? What does he like so much about it?

You knew for sure he’d come back. There was no reason for him not to resurrect. But the irrational nervousness grabbed you. You took his chin and turned his face up, looking at him.

I love you so much, and I don’t know why I did it.

His blood was warm and salty. It went well with bubblegum ice cream.

You had no idea that it was invented SUCH a long time ago. You had no hope to find it in ‘94 and felt like an idiot, but a happy one.

You sat on the floor two steps away from him and stress-devoured ice cream for an hour until he finally woke up.

Kai groaned and attempted to get up, lifting his head and looking at the high ceiling for a moment. He then rolled to his side and lifted himself up on an elbow.

“How did it feel?” he went straight to the point.

“Good at first, but then horrible. I think I went a little overboard. I stabbed you about twenty times”.

“I always knew there was something deeply, fundamentally wrong with you”, he said with tenderness. He got up and crawled up to you, attracted by the sight of the half-empty bucket of ice cream.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore”, you said, and felt lonely for a second. “I didn’t really enjoy neither the first nor the second time”.

“Each to his own, I guess”, Kai shrugged, and opened his mouth. You shoved a spoonful into it.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries #vampire diaries imagine #tvd

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 15 Post-Games Imposter Syndrome Part 28

This is a couple days after part 27! Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses (also thanks for Conor!), and @thoughts-of-nora!

Just as Aurora said, I was scheduled for an interview a few days later. It probably was to announce the masquerade, but I was the only former tribute to be having an interview this time. So, what else did they have planned?

I walked into room where Priscilla Cristal would be, but she wasn’t there. I frowned at the older man who stood off to the side, spreading out a floor length, midnight blue dress. And no coat or hat.

He looked normal enough. He had the same color eyes as me, and he looked kind of familiar. But I couldn’t place where he was from. He noticed me standing there and bowed. “I’m sorry, Ms. Reeves. Ms. Cristal sends her regrets, but she is swamped with other orders, so she is not available to be your stylist anymore. My name is Dior Hawthorne, and I am a stylist working under Ms. Cristal.” He held out his hand for me to shake.

I nodded and walked forward, shaking his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” I looked over at the dress and cocked an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, you must have missed a memo. I only wear pirate outfits. Or at least a long coat and hat.”

His lips quirked down. “I would love to fulfill your request, however, the Capitol has required me to stick to a certain outfit. I am not able to change what they have required.”

Shit. What the hell were they planning? I just nodded and got changed when he left the room, and he came back in to work on my hair and makeup. It was pretty standard, at least nothing flashy (especially because I had finally gotten rid of all the fucking glitter from last interview yesterday). And he pulled up all my unruly hair into a bun. Wow. Now, that was a metaphor if I ever saw one.

When he was done, he hesitantly put a hand on my shoulder. “Stay strong, Ms. Reeves. I’ve only heard whispers of what they’re planning, and I am not particularly fond of it.”

I frowned a little. He was chatty, wasn’t he? “You might want to be careful about who you tell about what you’re feeling about the Capitol. For all you know, I could love the Capitol.”

He laughed a little and winked. “I think I know my own blood better than that.” And he left.

Wait, what? Blood? Like related? What did he mean by that? I had to push that out of my mind, however. I had to deal possibly with Bystander and whatever the Capitol was going to throw at me now.

And Bystander wasn’t around. So, I just walked over to the elevator I would take to get on stage. The Peacekeepers waved me on, and I walked out into the flashing lights and screaming audience with a smile on my face.

“Welcome to a very special interview with our very own tribute, Triel!” Caesar paused and winked at the crowd as I sat down. “So, you must have noticed that Triel never really talked about her family during the pre-Games, or even the post-Games. There is a reason for that. She is actually an orphan. At least that’s what she believes.”

The crowd sighed, and Caesar pouted his lips in fake sympathy. Oh boy. What were they planning? “She grew up in District 10, away from any luxury or love or family.” Sympathy from the crowd. “It must have been horrible for you, Triel.” He looked over at me with fake sorrow, and the smile slipped from my lips. That was the best I could do with the shit Caesar was saying.

“Well, I did some digging, and I found out that it’s not entirely true that Triel is an orphan. It’s such a closely guarded secret, but I found out who Triel’s mother and father are.” He paused. “Do you want me to tell you?” The audience roared, and Caesar pulled out something that was signed by my mother. He showed it to me first, and my eyes widened as I read it. Was this true? Or did the Capitol lie again?

Then he held it up and waved it for the audience. “I figured out who Triel’s mother was, and I understand why the Capitol wanted to keep it a secret. If someone had figured it out while she was still unsafe, who knows what would have happened to her? But now, she’s safe, so I can reveal the information.” He paused for dramatic effect again. “Her mother is Maria Shasten.”

The audience gasped. Made sense, she was probably a celebrity in the Capitol because she had been chosen by the Shades. The people with the magic that the Shades didn’t hold onto were contracted out to basically do party tricks.

“But that’s not all.” Caesar smirked over at me. “Yes, being the daughter of one of the ones bestowed with magic by the Shades would be reason enough for someone to take her, but I figured out who her father is. And he is none other than a highly important assistant to President Snow,” paused for dramatic effect again, “Creston Fallion! And he is here today!”

He walked on stage with a smirk. He was known as a cruel advisor to Snow, at least among the people of the districts. He only cared about what would entertain him, and he was one of the main supporters of more brutal and deadly Hunger Games. But I had to admit, he did look enough like me that people would believe it. Shit.

I stood up when he walked over to me, and he took my hand and kissed the top of it, all the while smirking at me. Then he turned to Caesar. “I am so happy to finally meet my daughter in person. I have loved what I have seen of her so far on the TV. She is endearing and witty. I can’t wait to talk with her myself.”

“Triel, I should probably call you Triel Fallion,” hell no you shouldn’t, “how do you feel now that you know you are part of the Capitol instead of stuck with the legacy of the districts?”

I forced a smile on my face as I kept looking at Fallion. It was most likely a lie. Churi wouldn’t be so pissed off if my father had been a Capitol official. But still. Even the remote chance that I was related to a piece of shit like him made my stomach lurch. And would I have to spend time with him now? Brilliant. “Absolutely excited! I had no idea I had such an esteemed family. I have been alone for so long, I can’t imagine having a family again.”

They seemed satisfied with that. Caesar looked away from me, back to the crowd. “And just to make it official, Creston has agreed to adopt Triel so she will never have to worry about the districts again.” Fallion squeezed my hand tighter, and my stomach dropped. “She is one of us now, and she always will be!” The crowd roared, and he pulled me into a hug. He was holding me too tight. Shit.

“In celebration of all the wonderful announcements the past few weeks, there will be a masquerade in four days, and the former tributes will all attend! Tickets will go on sale tomorrow, and there are a limited number, so you better act fast!”

The crowd roared, and Caesar gestured at me one last time as Fallion basically pushed me off the stage. When we were out of view of the cameras, he leaned closer to me, still smirking. “I’ve heard all about your sharp tongue from Aurora. I think you’ll amuse me tonight.”

My stomach dropped again, and I couldn’t find my voice. I actually had to be near this trash of a human being now? And I couldn’t do anything about it. Shit.

“7/10 for the lovely lady, I’m sure the shock is the only reason for a not perfect score tonight, but for the unfortunate—pardon me, unexpected side character I’d hesitate to even give a 1/10 really. Far too smug, and I’m the one saying it.”

I jumped and looked up to see Bystander leaning against the wall, studying his nails. I frowned. “What the f—”

Fallion clamped his hand over my mouth and shook his head. “Such naughty language. No daughter of mine will speak like that.” I tried to push back away from him, but he just grabbed my arm in a too tight grip, while still keeping his hand over my mouth. Then he looked over at Bystander. “And I don’t believe you’re needed. I’ll keep her in line tonight.”

Bystander stood up, and his grin was sharp and all teeth. As he stepped slowly forward, his eyes flashed, and some other parts of his face seemed to shift back and forth in the blink of an eye. What the hell? I just stared at him as he kept his attention on Fallion. “But why silence such entertaining wit and charm, truly it’s part of how she’s even gotten here, isn’t it? And I’m almost never needed, and yet I think this is one of those rare occasions where I am. You see, I’ve never been a fan of mortals thinking too highly of themselves, it’s such an obnoxious noise, don’t you think, my dear? Now I do so hope those idiots have informed you of just what roles we are all supposed to be playing? If not allow me to be the first to inform you that you’ve played yours for the night, so please get. Your hands. Off. Her.”

Fallion just stood up taller too. “I am one of the people in charge of this foolish endeavor to make the Capitol happy about what happened, and you are beneath me. So, leave.”

Bystander laughed, cold and humorless. “I do not work for the Capitol or the Shades for that matter, and I am beneath very few. I also don’t like repeating myself, though I will give you just one more chance, because I am curious what exactly you think you can do that Churi and our star have not already done?” He seemed to take only one step, but he was already in front of Fallion, still smiling with his hands clasped behind his back. “Or have you asked about my sudden inclusion in all this? Perhaps you haven’t been trusted quite as much as you think. Not as important as you think. Or maybe you’re just not bright enough to heed the warnings.”

I flinched when Fallion let go of me, his face contorted in rage. “You little peasant.” He went to slap Bystander. Was Fallion going to be killed before my eyes? And did I feel bad about that at all? No. I just watched with morbid curiosity.

Bystander grabbed Fallion’s arm and then wrapped a hand around his throat the next second. “Tsk, tsk, I do hate this part, here I normally prefer to avoid these encounters with words, but clearly you’re worth even less of my time than I initially thought.” He lifted Fallion up above his head, as if he weighed nothing. Bystander turned back to face me, and all I could do was stare. I should have been used to that, since he had acted so nonchalant with me threatening his life before. He sounded bored when he spoke. “Oh, I guess we are beneath him in this instance. While I do hate being proven wrong, I suppose I can accept this instance. Now, can I let you go or will try that again? After all I’m sure if anybody wished to question they would find this was self defense since you went to strike me first.” He smirked up at Fallion with a raised eyebrow.

Fallion was actually smart enough to shake his head and run off after Bystander let him go. He was…actually gone. I shouldn’t have to deal with him tonight. I fell back against the wall and sunk against the floor. “Thanks,” I whispered.

He waved it off, and stared off after anyone who dared linger. “That was hardly any energy, Triel, still far more than he was worth though, but far less than what I’m willing to exert for—well never mind that.” He looked back at me, actually looking serious as he looked me over. “Do you require any sort of medical care, or is it simply shock of the idiocy of that performance?”

All that I needed was a distraction. I took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts out of my mind. I stood up and smirked over at him, brushing off the question. “Well, that interview was certainly a show. How would you rate that reveal? It was pretty standard as ‘learning of secret family you never knew about’ goes.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Boringly so I’ll agree, I dare not even rate it. Honestly, can they not learn new tricks, after all, you’re already their precious darling considering everything else that has led up to this point. Besides, it takes very little digging to uncover the lies of it all. At least it served the purpose of the masquerade being justified, as if they truly need that. Still, it will only make you more valuable to them, if only to keep you safe until then. Tell me, have they asked for how you wish to dress for it? I fear a pirate will break the illusion of mystery for the night.”

I shook my head. “No, they’ll probably choose my outfit again. Like this one.” I eyed him. “Do you find it to your tastes?”

“Hmm, it hardly appears as you, or at least the you I have seen before, more styled to appear as another vapid member of them. Though I suppose that was the point in all this wasn’t it? To somehow prove that you’re no different while also holding you on a pedestal?”

“You think those costumes were any different? I didn’t even pick out my last costume. You did. So, then, what would you prefer me to be wearing?” I leaned a little closer to him and lowered my voice. Distraction would be appreciated.

“Those others were meant to make you appear different from them, even if they were nothing more than costumes as you put it. But they were still similar enough to the style you yourself chose. As for my preferences, well perhaps you will get the chance to see them soon enough. I assure you, they will be more to your tastes than the Capitol image presented previously, costumes have their uses after all but I tend towards a certain level of beauty and charm.” He looked over at me pointedly, smirking.

I laughed a little. “Tell that to your reaping outfit. That lacked both beauty and charm.”

“A costume, a role to play to get what I want. But tell me, do I lack those now? Be honest, I would hate to miss out on your sharp tongue.” He spread his arms so I could see well.

And, damn it, he looked good. A nice, sharp suit that wasn’t gaudy or even stood out at all. But I couldn’t actually admit that. I cocked my head and smirked. “Still a 6/10.”

“Tell me, my dear little thief, what would I have to do to get a perfect score from you?”

Maybe I’d admit it eventually. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.” I smirked over at him. “Anyway, why did you come see me after this interview? Did you just miss my company?” I cocked an eyebrow.

“Will you believe me if I say yes? It’s no secret that I enjoy it so with all our previous times together.”

Yeah right. I faked a gasp. “I’m flattered. No ulterior motives whatsoever?”

“Oh of course there are ulterior motives, but then are we ever truly without them?”

I smirked again. “So, that means that you didn’t just miss my company, so no, I don’t believe you.”

“Hm, but perhaps missing your company was the reason that inspired me to come in the first place, and the rest I was hopeful to attain in addition afterwards?”

I eyed him. Maybe I could get some unreliable information from him? “And what would you be hoping to gain besides my company?”

“Entertainment of course. Though I admit, the fool was more of an annoyance than that. Still, more information was gained for later plans.”

“Any chance you’d give away any information on those plans?”

“Interfering with those of others, research of my own kind, and reuniting with old friends. I’m afraid anything more would come with some sort of price.”

I perked up and smirked wider. Could seduction work possibly? “And what kind of price would that be?”

“For others? A favor of equal importance to the information. For you?” He turned to face me more, smirking back. “The right question and,” he stepped a little closer, “a kiss.”

What right question? Was it a specific question or just not asking an obvious question? It was a price I was willing to pay. Still, I started with a pitiful attempt, making sure to sound teasing as I stepped closer too, so that we were inches from each other, and placed a hand on his chest. He didn’t flinch this time. “Please?”

He laughed. “Oh my little thief, you can do so much better than that, though I commend the effort.”

So, I actually had to try, damn it. I thought for a little bit, mulling over his words. “These old friends, are they Aleksis and Reine? And are you reuniting yourself with them, or with someone else?” Two questions. Would he require two prices?

He grinned. “And there’s that clever head of yours that’s just so fascinating, catching the ambiguity in the wording. In answer to the former, yes but they are not the only ones. The latter can be answered in a similar way I suppose, for I am but one of the people in this. Now for the rest of the price?”

Wait. If he answered both of those, would he answer more questions? I held up a hand before he could lean in more. I had more questions. Could I ask them? “Wait, if I give the rest of the price now, will I be able to ask more questions? And pay another price? Or is that it? Instead, could I ask the questions now and then just have the rest of the prices all in a row?”

He inclined his head, looking thoughtful. “And you would pay all of them? Deals with the devil are a very dangerous thing little thief, the consequences of breaking them even more so.” He sounded teasing, but there was something dark underneath.

I was probably being foolish, but the promise of information was too tempting. I wouldn’t ask too many questions, though. “If it would still be kisses, by all means, I’ll pay it.”

“Then ask your questions.”

Yes! I tried to keep my expression neutral, even as the smile tugged at my lips. “I know all about how you’ve been interfering in my plans, but how have you been interfering in other plans? And what is the purpose of this research in the grand scheme of things?”

“Do you remember my comment of being the devil on your shoulder?” Yes, he just referenced it a little bit ago. “I whisper in the Capitol’s ear about what they should do with all of you, tell them how beneficial something will be to them, or dissuade more attempts to tighten their excuse for a leash because it will not earn them the obedience they think they have. I also keep them from gaining more knowledge of our friends despite their efforts to obtain it.” He gave me a pointed look again. “As for the research, in the grand scheme of things as you say, it lets me know more about the players in the game, where to push and where to back off from. As well as what they have already learned in regards to myself.”

I nodded. That was just so much to unpack. How much of this shit had been his idea, but also how much had he stopped them from doing worse? And how much could I really believe? Not something to think about while I was still in his presence. I could accidentally ask another question. I leaned in closer to him. “So, that’s four, I believe. I’m ready to start paying the price.” My smirk came back in full force.

He smirked back and leaned closer, but he didn’t kiss me right away. Instead, he backed me into the wall and slowly, methodically found all the pins in my hair and took them out, as he leaned closer and closer to me, until my hair fell free, and he laughed in my ear. “That’s more like you, my little thief.”

Before I could say anything snarky back, he smashed his lips to mine, and I automatically melted. Damn dreams. One hand ran through my hair, while his other hand brushed along my back. Hell, if I had to just kiss him to get information that actually sounded truthful, I wouldn’t mind it.

It was as intense as all of the others, so when he broke away, my legs almost gave out from under me as I gasped for breath.

Once I caught my breath, I glanced up at him. “I highly doubt that’s considered four.”

“Of course not, but it would be such a shame to waste them all at once don’t you think?” Damn it, I agreed. The jerk. “And I’d hate for the Capitol to find either of us left unaware because of my actions here in the hallway.”

I laughed. “Do you charge late fees? I’d hate to have negative consequences due to no fault of my own.”

“Not as long as I know the debt will be paid by the end of our relationship.” He winked.

I smirked back. Whenever the hell that would be. “Oh don’t worry.” I leaned closer again, just inches from his face. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving any debts unpaid before I leave.”

He laughed. “I’m counting on it and looking forward to it.”

As good a time as any to make my exit. I bowed and headed off, before he could see my face growing hot. Shit, he was charming.

#writeblr hunger games #writeblr #yes I changed Triel's mom's first name #I thought Maria was better

[hoochy-coo]

What did you think of the outfits in Devon her 21 outfits video ?

I have lots of thoughts so let me break this down outfit by outfit:

Outfit #1: Love the reference! Love the Gucci platforms with the knee socks. Throw the purse away. 

Outfit #2: Devon shows self-awareness by mentioning that this outfit would enrage some people. People is me. It’s like a Lindsay Lohan getting papped leaving the house to get some frozen yogurt moment. I thought we were past this. 

Outfit #3: Again, check the reference! Don’t love the boots with it but don’t hate it either.

Outfit #4: Giving us an OC moment! Marissa Cooper would wear that whole outfit in a heartbeat. I hope she channels more of this side of 2000s fashion and less of what she gave us with #2.

Outfit #5: A SERVE! The suit fits great - not too slim and not too boxy. The t-shirt under is a quirky but casual addition to the androgynous vibe. The sneakers are a ‘no’ though.

Outfit #6: I like the idea behind it and I love me some Orseund Iris silk moment but I’m not a fan of the jeans. It would actually be a really cute look if the jeans had a bit of a higher rise. 

Outfit #7: Dior didn’t give us a rastafari-inspired collection in 2004 for Devon to do a poor man’s version of it. I know she’s got a Rasta bag somewhere so this was such a missed opportunity. Burn those boots and take the cap as well while we’re at it. 

Outfit #8: LOVE the way the split jeans sat over the pointed mules. The jacket is a size too big imo but other than that, it’s a cute, casual look. 

Outfit #9: FAVE fit so far! Quirky done right without heading into the cheesy territory. Obsessed with that light mint green colour on her. 

Outfit #10: BASIC but the belt was a clever but simple easy way to elevate the look. 

Outfit #11: OBSESSED with the platform boots and forever jealous that she can afford them. Those leather pants fit amazing. Hate the purse. Again, nothing special but a cute outfit I could see myself wearing on a night out. 

Outfit #12: Really like the ruffled top - we need to bring that back! The rest of it is forgettable. 

Outfit #13: I surprisingly enjoy this look? I think the top itself is tacky but I love the yellow and paisley combo. Carrie Bradshaw would wear it. 

Outfit #14: Ok yes, Devon! A serve - finally! I’d give my left arm for that vintage Gucci top and the vest. She’s giving me 70s sexpot at Woodstock with this look and I love it. Wish the boots went over the knees but that’s just me being nitpicky. 

Outfit #15: There is a lot going on here and I fully believe that only Devon could pull off this fit. I’m undecided if I love or hate the shoes tbh. 

Outfit #16: Throw the whole outfit away. Please, I beg you

Outfit #17: I’m waiting for Fallon Carrington to wear that outfit on the new season of Dynasty. I’d never wear the outfit but it looks great on her - definitely a glitzy 80s moment done right! The earrings were the perfect way to accessorize. 

Outfit #18: Nope.

Outfit #19: You know she’s wearing that whole outfit to a music festival or a NBHD concert, and she’d be right to do that. 

Outfit #20: She’s giving me a young, hot, less grim Morticia Addams. She looks hot, idk what else there is to say. 

Outfit #21: Her body is INSANE! She looks like she came straight out of a Bond movie in that dress. Take those socks off, and throw on the vintage Manolo from look #12.

Overall: I’m mostly disappointed and she’s officially taken Y2K too far. Still love Devon to death though!

#ask #answer #style #Devon Lee Carlson