#the colors!!! like a well-loved photograph T^T

[mybworlds]

Chapter 1: Your perfect life

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W.C.: 2.6k

Summary: Your life sounds perfect: you live with a perfect man, you live in your dream house, you do the job you love, you don't miss anything, except love and passion.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, reader is a photographer, reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to, unspecified age gap, Joel and reader are two cheaters, for a while. Smut, use of pet names, dirty talk, masturbation, unprotected PiV, creampies, comeplay, oral (both f and m recieving), exhibitionism, size kink. No outbreak here. Let me know if I missed anything!

Before to leave, this is a prologue of the main character and her situation, hope you like it...

Masterlist

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

The alarm clock rings and you open your eyes, smiling, "Good morning," you mumble, stretching an arm toward your shoulders, but the cold sheets behind you make you realize that Patrick has been up for a while already. You turn belly-up to the ceiling and think about your next photoshoot and smile. You love your job. You are a photographer and yours is not just a job, it has been a passion since you were a little girl.

You get out of bed and stretch with a whimper, barefoot you walk to the bathroom whose light automatically turns on, you get into your beautiful shower with glass doors and blue and light blue tiles, you shower and then you get out, you wrap yourself in a soft blue towel matching the bathroom walls and then you dry your hair. You put some makeup and then smile at yourself in the mirror with a satisfied air. You choose light-colored jeans, a light-colored T-shirt and your beautiful sneakers as your outfit. You walk out of your bedroom, make your way down the small hallway and down the stairs happy to be living this new day.

"Babe," you call out to your Patrick, but Patrick does not answer, he's usually in his office and works in smart working, but today he is not there, you go to the kitchen and there you find your beloved pancakes and next to it a post-it with a red rose ′In the office, see you later, love you′ you smile "I love you so much too." you whisper sniffing the red rose and smiling with your eyes closed.

You are happy. Your life is perfect, you lack nothing. You have a magnificent multi-accessorised house equipped with a central home automation system, you have a garden with a swimming pool, even a small spa corner. You have a wonderful man like Patrick, he is a lawyer who looks after the interests of small local construction companies and mostly works from home apart from when he has to attend some meetings with contractors; you love him very much, you met him when you were only sixteen and it was love at first sight, you then got engaged when you turned eighteen, you took different paths, but you always supported and loved each other, you never accused each other of anything either of being too absent or too present with each other. Last but not least, you have a job you love, you are a photographer, a good photographer judging by the many positive comments you have on your site and the dozens of requests you have every day, you also had a major contract for a fashion house two years ago and since then the requests have increased, of course you haven't had major contracts like you did then, but things are going well.

You have breakfast, get your house keys, then put on your sunglasses and go out. You could take the car, but today you really want to take a walk and enjoy the sun kissing the streets of New York, you'll take some public transportation and walk around a bit, it's good for you.

You smile, you're happy-- you repeat it to yourself until you convince yourself about it for today, too.

Your smile flickers and disappears when you get on the second bus; no, you are not happy. Patrick is sweet, he is perfect, you respect him and he respects you, but can you consider it love? By now your intimate moments are reduced to once, maximum twice a month and he always comes, you on the other hand pretend, you don't want to hurt his feelings. You masturbate all the time in the hope of mitigating this oppressive feeling of yours, to fill that emptiness you feel more and more deafening. Your home is beautiful, it is a wonderful shell that cradles and pampers you for your every need, but is that enough?

But your life is perfect, it's perfect like this, you don't need to look around or look for anything else to be happy, you tell yourself.

You get to your stop and get off, next to your photo store a cafe has opened a few months ago that makes fantastic donuts, and that morning you don't give up to sweeten your thoughts and soothe your nerves. You walk in and inside there is just the bartender Jake, a young man in his mid-twenties or thirties at most, and in the far corner a gruff-looking man who was hunched over reading maybe something or maybe he's answering an email, you have no idea. The man in the corner looks up, as you suddenly lower your gaze caught out, "Um…" you turn to Jake "good morning, a latte and a Blueberry Donut," you resume keeping your eyes downcast and barely breathing, you don't even know why you're acting this way, you've met dozens of people and exchanged hundreds of glances and now you're acting like a dumb little girl newbie.

"Here, consumption here as usual?" the young man asks you politely.

You shake your head, "No, thank you, I'm busy in the store," you reply, at that moment the man you had seen earlier in the corner flanks you, he is huge, massive, has thick dark curls, an irregular beard and a dark mustache, he is leaning with his forearms on the counter and at that moment he is the one looking at you, he smiles at you as if trying to make contact, you immediately look away staring down clearing your throat in embarrass.

Jake hands you the bag and makes you pay, then you leave without giving the charming stranger a glance. You almost run into your store as if to seek refuge within those four walls. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you feel as if you've gone crazy, but what's wrong with you? You've always been a proper young woman, and now you're acting like a crazy who runs away...

Someone knocks on your door, you turn around "W - who is it?" you ask.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a voice tells you, "you forgot your cell phone on the counter at the bar."

Are you that far gone? That's great!

You open the door and you are confronted by the handsome mystery man, "Thank you." you reply, reaching out your hand as he hands you the cell phone in the palm of your hand "How did you know I was here?" you ask him doubtfully.

"I saw you fleeing here," he replies with a half-smile, "Everything okay? You seemed to be in a big hurry." he adds.

"Um…that is…I had to make a phone call," he nods "Luckily you found it, my mind is elsewhere since this morning!" you exclaim, smiling at the man with a low stare "Thank you."

"You're welcome!" he retorts "So, you own this beautiful place!" he exclaims again taking a step forward into the club, as you take one step back, he looks at you puzzled "Are you afraid of me?" he asks you.

"No," you reply, shaking your head.

"From the way you talk and the way you move, I'd say yes," he replies again "Take it easy, honey," he adds again.

Honey? How dare he?

"You and I don't know each other at all, sir!" you exclaim trying to regain control of the situation "Please, leave," you add backing away and touching with the back of your thighs the desk.

"It's okay, I'm sorry I scared you," retorts the man with his head down walking away.

You lean totally against the desk breathing deeply and realizing that you made a fool of yourself with that stranger, who knows what he must have thought of you!

The first customers and requests of the day distract you from your moment of commiseration. Luckly, you can easily forget for the moment the incident that happened. You think back about it in the evening, once you get back home, while waiting for Patrick and think that if you meet that guy again, you will have to apologize as you overreacted.

When Patrick comes home, he greets you with a big smile approaching you and taking you in his arms, you let yourself be cradled in his grip closing your eyes and thinking again that maybe with that stranger you had an overreaction since you were overthinking your relationship with your boyfriend. Patrick kisses you softly, he tastes of bourbon and sweetness, he makes you lie gently on the couch kissing your lips first, then your neck and chest still covered, you hear him moaning your name softly, while you try to restrain your thoughts, your doubts about you and him, you still want to not give up so, after all you and Patrick have been together for more than ten years, maybe it's just a little stress…

He, meanwhile, has already undressed himself and undressed you as well, without you even realizing it, he touches you between your legs, but you jerk in discomfort and pain, you are not even wet enough, you look at each other, you look at him almost with reproach, he instead has eyes full of lust, "I got it," he announces lowering his head between your legs and making them bend. Patrick has always been a disaster with oral sex, yes he makes you wet, but he's never known how to touch you in the right places in a way that makes you come, and tonight is no exception.

You are almost glad when he fills you, but not for the obvious reasons as much as for the fact that this way he will stop and embrace you and you can sleep.

It is horrible, you know that. He fills you repeatedly at an ever-increasing pace, you have yes little shivers of pleasure, but nothing that can be called really good or pleasurable, he comes a few moments later inside you. Thank God, you are on the pill to regularize your period!

You think back to when you as a young girl you would have loved to have a child by him, you remember that you wished he had blond hair like him and blue-eyed like him, but your own temper… today you think that if you had a child with Patrick, maybe you would have experienced it as a trap… that's a horrible thought too!

Patrick after intercourse, lays his head on your chest and asks "Did you like it?" and you textbook answer "Yeah, sure." then you feel him give you a kiss at your heart level and he relaxes completely, you can't sleep, you stare at the ceiling. You feel hot and a burning thought spreading inside you, is it true love?

The next day you wake up with a blanket on you and with a cup of coffee on the coffee table, you stretch out putting your feet on the floor and find Patrick's ever-present post-it note, "I'm at Black's company this morning, I'll be back tonight, love you xoxo" and the ever-present red rose next to it, you pick up the rose and smell it, but unlike yesterday you can't say I love you too, you place the red rose on the table with a long sad sigh and pick up the cup of coffee which you start sipping thoughtfully.

Your cell phone rings, it's Daisy "Hey doll!" you greet her smiling and putting her on speakerphone.

"Hi gorgeous, how are you doing? Are you already at work?" she asks you, you hear some buzz in the background so she's already around.

"No, I'm going later today. I have a request for a photoshoot for a wedding at noon," you tell her.

"Did they invite you to the party too?" she asks you.

You get up and take your phone with you continuing to talk as you head to the kitchen, "Well, I guess so, I'm their photographer, I'll have to do a complete shooting." you reply to her washing your coffee cup.

"And how are things going with Patrick?" she asks you again.

"Fine." you answer not too convinced "What's with all these questions? Did we wake up in detective mode this morning?"

Daisy laughs, "But no, silly, I'm just asking. Look, but why don't we plan a double date on Saturday? Me, you, Patrick and Jordan?"

"Fine with me, I want to hear from Patrick though."

"Oh!" you hear her snort "These men are so boring!" she exclaims making you smile.

"I know, but we love them for that too, don't we?"

"Yes…" now she's the one using a not-so-convinced tone of voice "So we'll talk about Saturday later?"

"Oh no, how silly!" you exclaim "Saturday there's the wedding, they're getting married in the morning, but the reception is in the early afternoon and then you know how these things go." you add "Sorry, my head's a bit elsewhere."

"Things always go well with Patrick, aren't they?"

"That's the second time you've asked me about Patrick, but do you know anything? So you make me worry!" you say sitting down at a stool in the kitchen.

"No, I just don't like your tone of voice very much. I mean, when we were kids and you were talking about him your voice would go up three octaves! Now it doesn't sound that way at all!"

"Well, Daisy, we were 17 when I was telling you about him and we weren't together yet, I think it's normal that I felt so much enthusiasm then for someone I were falling in love with! Things then change…"

"You mean for the worse?"

You don't answer right away as you don't know what to answer, Daisy has always been like that, a very observant girl who even by a tone of voice can tell when something is wrong and this morning is no exception.

"My friend, go to that wedding and find yourself a hunk, listen to me! If you have this tone of voice after only ten years…" continues Daisy "may I ask you a very personal question?" she adds again.

"Sure!"

"How are things in bed?" she asks.

"Let's talk closely about that, over the phone you know," you answer evasively.

"All right, then I'll meet you at the gardens in twenty minutes."

After exactly 20 minutes you and Daisy are sitting at the local coffee shop sipping good coffee, Daisy tells you about her latest purchases and fashions as if you then don't know or understand much about them, then Daisy asks you again, "So how are things in bed with Patrick?"

"Let's just say … things aren't going very well, he tries, but I don't like it."

"What? Sex or sex with Patrick?" she asks again.

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I'd say it does!"

You snort, "I dunno…I'm a little uncomfortable talking about it. He tries," you repeat, "but I can never come." you admit, as Daisy almost looks at you with bulging out eyes "Please don't look at me like that I already feel weird enough!" you add feeling really guilty about it.

"No, no, I'm sorry…it's just that I thought things were getting better, you already told me about it a year ago and I thought that in the meantime the situation had been changed in better! I didn't think things would continue to go so bad," she justifies her insistence.

You sigh sadly, "The truth is that every day I tell myself that my life is perfect, that I don't lack anything, that I am healthy, I have a good job, I have a man by my side … however, it is not enough for me, I mean, I would like more, I would like to try something again! I'm fine with Patrick, but by now we've established a flat beautiful routine, he makes me breakfast in the morning leaving me a post-it note with a rose and goes to work, I get up, wash, get dressed, have breakfast, go to work, come back, go to the pool, wait for him and…" you sigh heavily "twice a month we do it, but…" you shake your head "each time I don't feel anything but chills, but I don't feel what I felt the first few times with him."

"Oh my God." she says, shaking her head "Do you at least … I mean, do you touch yourself or not even that?" your friend asks you.

"I have a sex toy hidden in the back of my drawer, I'm ashamed of it, but…" you start to say, but Daisy's laughter and her shaking her head interrupt you "Why are you laughing?"

"At least the sex toy kept you from killing Patrick!" she exclaims.

A giggle escapes you, "Silly,"

Daisy squeezes your hand, "I can't tell you what you should do, but think about it. Seriously think about it, my friend." you curl your lips into a little grimace, "Well, I hope at least something happens at this wedding! I mean, maybe you either find a toy boy or maybe someone really nice to have fun with or maybe still something to shake up this your perfect boring routine." she says spelling the last five words.

"Dummy, I'm going to work, not to hook up," you remind her.

"Well, never say never." she tells you with a mischievous look that makes you smile and shake your head, your friend is just crazy.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us hbo #joel miller self insert #the last of us #joel fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal as joel miller #smut #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic

[coldshrugs]

goddamn, you look holy hit from behind with light you're a painting of a saint and i'm nervous, stumbling over my lines

@sunshinemage causes me yet another cardiac arrest with smoochy io and estinien. thank you rory, i'm never getting over this!! ♥♥♥

#io/estinien #io laithe #i am so in love with how nostalgic this feels!!! #the colors!!! like a well-loved photograph T^T #esti's lil smile is taking me out #and him holding her glasses!!! #so thoughtful to make sure they don't get smudged :> much :> #their hair is so gorgeous too!!! rory you always kill it with the hair T^T #i love this messy falling-out-of-the-ponytail look you give estinien so much #the shading on io is beautiful too. i'm. not speechless because i can't shut up but AAAAAAAAAA #her hair her earring her NOSE!!!! #okay i'll just be. thinking about them forever. what's new? BYEEEEEE

[nouvellevqgue]

i. oh my, never seen that color blue · ﹙ charles leclerc ﹚

summary: red is indeed his color, but what if he switched to blue?

a/n: catluvr444 is max's girlfriend username

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦

charles_leclerc added to their story!

ˑ⭒ʚ ִinstagram ݁.٭

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, sza, shakira, and 459,725 more

yourusername trip-trippin' on you 👜

view all 56,208 comments...

username where are you goinnn???👀👀

⤷ yourusername nyc!!

⤷ username she's going to nyc to... watch taylor's concert?

username spill your hair secret bestie

⤷ yourusername hair oiling, conditioner and shampoo by pantene

maxverstappen1 blue suits you better

⤷ charles_leclerc she looks good with both red and blue

⤷ pierregasly but to be honest she looks better with blue though

⤷ charles_leclerc shut up

username she's literally so prettyyy

username how can i have her hair

ellamai glad you love the soonggg🎶 😚

⤷ yourusername i love it everytime!!

username YESSS Y/N PHOTOGRAPHED BY CHARLES IS BACK ‼️‼️‼️

⤷ username bless him for taking this view of her😇

damianodavid you suits all the color it's amazing

yourusername thank you so much 🫶🏻 damianodavid

sza that wind and your back view is truly a blessing

⤷ username i mean does she lie tho

honeymoon 💝💝

username she's literally so cool omg

username but do y'all realize when she wore blue, and so does he...

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 740,129 more

yourusername new shirt alert.

👤: charles_leclerc

view all 89,570 comments...

username the second slide is so him

username he has a questionable sense of fashion for those graphic t-shirt

danielricciardo 👀😁

charles_leclerc i can't believe you took the picture

⤷ username so it's a secret picture kinda thing until she spoil it

⤷ yourusername well i mean it's matched with what's inside

⤷ danielricciardo let's do this conversation in a whole different place shall we

landonorris easy with that shirt

⤷ username LANDO😭😭

username his fashion is matched with max smh

⤷ username typical dad graphic tee and skinnny jeans????

⤷ username 😭😭😭😭

username it's all fun and game until when she posted charles doing the same thing she did yesterday

username she knows what she did to humanity when she posted this

username wait... he wore blue?

⤷ username OMG YEAH I DIDN'T REALIZE IT💀💀

username oh. rb charles is coming?

⤷ redbullracing 👀👀

⤷ scuderiaferrari don't you dare

⤷ username ferrari is scared to lose him but still giving him that junk ass car is making me WHEEZING SO HARD

ˑ⭒ʚ ִtwitter ݁.٭

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername, pierregasly, and 948,201 more

charles_leclerc my favorite one to hold, forever to keep

view all 259,170 comments...

username oh no since when he became poetic😦

username idk but i had either bad or good feeling or nah about this

username blue charles spotted online👀👀

yourusername GUYS WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM IN BLUE???

username y/n honey look, he works in ferrari. FERRARI IS RED (but yk rb is blue)

⤷ redbullracing 👀👀

⤷ username rb admin wdym by that

username her fit is always been the best

carmenmmundt loving your fit match. so much.

lilymhe charles really hit your good angle there

⤷ yourusername i don't have a bad angle😎

⤷ lilymhe oh yeah? wait until i found your year book

carlossainz55 yourusername what did you to him until he get like this

⤷ yourusername promise to you i didn't say anything to him

danielricciardo i've never seen blue looks ever so matched with him

⤷ yourusername so all those dark blue jeans for nothing????

scuderiaferrari our romeo🌹

username he progressively getting more and more blue as i look into his page

sebastianvettel Charles, what kind of book are you reading to be this romantic?

⤷ username oh even seb ask you this because like WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON

⤷ landonorris wait it's all came from a book he's reading?

⤷ charles_leclerc no, not really 😁

⤷ carlossainz55 you're not good with secrets, charles.

⤷ charles_leclerc i know.

yourusername

liked by brielarson, isahernaez, charles_leclerc, and 729,566 more

yourusername i swear it's blue irl

view all 62,420 comments...

username ASUEHDHEJSJJWSJSJSNSJD

username THE ROMANCE IS BACK

username it's more greenish though

⤷ yourusername but believe me, at some point it's blue. like light blue.

username once again charles with blue accent spotted: plaster

⤷ username i love the plaster tho, it suit his eye color

username WHY ARE YOU GUYS SO DAMN CUTEEE

camilamendes four pairs of pretty eyes

username literally mother and father

nicolezefanya aww you guys are so cute

ellefanning i miss you so much much much

⤷ yourusername miss you too like forever🥺

username isa liked this🥹❤️

⤷ username y/n is her closest friends, thank god they didn't lost any contact

landonorris JUST LET BE SINGLE IN PEACE PLEEEASEE

⤷ username lando is me, truly the man of the year

maxverstappen1 it's green actually, not blue

⤷ yourusername you know it's blue under the sunlight

⤷ catluvr444 yeah max just admit it

⤷ maxverstappen1 catluvr444 i can't believe you choosing to be on her side

⤷ catluvr444 sometimes a girl should make her choice 🤷‍♀️

username couple goals fr

username missing her on the paddock

⤷ username are they breaking up?

⤷ username no, she's busy on her movie project so she can't be with him

alex_albon i see max is already going to do his usual maxplaining in front of me now. help me

⤷ lilymhe omw to the rescue

⤷ username is it because of the blue ore green thing?

⤷ alex_albon apparently yes.

yourusername added to their story!

caption: gotcha

#✶! #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 x you #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff

[ferrstappen]

loving him is red l Charles Leclerc Imagine

a/n: it’s been YEARS since I've written something but I have too many ideas and time so I'll give it a try again <3 any feedback is appreciated and than you for reading <3

also, of course the only song I could think of is Red by Taylor Swift (taylor’s version ofc)... I mean... how could I not?

genre: fluff.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female singer!reader.

summary: Charles’ girlfriend receives her first Grammy for Song of the Year, sadly enough the inspiration behind the song isn’t able to make it to the ceremony.

“This feels so wrong, I should be there to support you... You’re always here for races and shit” Charles said while watching her get ready on a fancy hotel room, meanwhile he was stuck in Maranello. 

“Please don’t, it’s pre-season and all that, you know they needed you there today. Plus, I'll be home by tomorrow so we can celebrate... or you can console me since I'm probably losing anyway.” (Y/N) quietly said the last part while sipping some expensive sparkling wine her assistant brought to the room. 

“You are not losing! Babe, how many times do I need to tell you that?” Charles sounded truly exasperated with his girlfriend, like he truly had told her many many times. 

Truth be told, she never thought she would be considerate at all. Yes, her label had submitted her second album and the first single of the record, but they were almost obligated to do so, it was an unspoken rule in the music industry that you just had to do the entire “for your Grammy consideration” portfolio if you wanted to be taken seriously, but (Y/N) never really thought the song she first released from her album would be such a hit. 

Honestly, they just were words her heart could think of whenever she saw Charles, because he truly was red... In the way he wore the color so proudly, from the way his car was always a shiny red even when he was driving it in the driest of the deserts, to the way he loved her so passionately, fearlessly and undoubtedly... He was red. 

It never made sense to her that millions around the world would mix her lyrics on Ferrari t-shirts or that fans would wait for Charles on the stands with bright red lyrics of the song. 

He loved it, by the way. He would flush a bright red whenever someone on the grid teased him about it, pretended he was shy about everyone knowing those words were for him, but his heart would sing a little every single time he listened or read the verses meant for him, just as he would make sure the camera would capture your cute face over FaceTime when he got a podium and you couldn’t be here, or how he made sure to tell you his best joke when you’d arrive to the paddock holding hands, loving the way the photographers captured your laugh and the glint in his eyes just by being the reason of your smile. 

He had the superior relationship and he just knew it, and he made sure the rest of the word knew it as well. 

“So, are you finally going to show me the dress?” Charles said while putting his headphones on to ignore the world outside of his driver’s room.

She cheekily smiled. “No, not really” She told him, earning a dissatisfied groan from him.

“Then when do you want me to see it? On TV like the rest of the world?” He argued, his accent getting thicker.

“Actually yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” (Y/N) was going to keep talking, but her assistant let her know the dress had just arrived and they needed her full attention. 

“No, I heard that! You can mute me and I’ll just watch over here!” Charles pleaded, earning a heartily laugh from her girlfriend. 

“I’m so sorry, bebé. I have to go, but you can watch me on TV though!”

Charles sighed, unable to hide his grin. “You know I'll be glued, I don’t care about the time or anything,” even through his noise-cancelling headphones he could hear a big commotion outside his room, meaning someone would come knocking on his door soon. He took a deep breath before focusing his eyes on his muse again. “I love you so much, chérie. I’m so proud of you and whatever happens tonight doesn’t change that. Please whatever you need I'll have my phone at all times, I’m capable of stoping the car in the middle of nowhere and you know it,” they both laughed. “I’m right there with you, I love you.”

She repeated the same words over and over again, feeling a bit numb as several people helped her fitting the red Maison Valentino dress to perfection. It was a whirlwind from there, the last glance she took of herself in the mirror was to make sure the small prancing horse shaped stud earrings, a nod to her man watching on tv.

As if writing a Grammy nominated song and almost an entire album about him wasn’t enough...

Her hands couldn’t help the tingling on the palm of her hands, her body knowing she was missing her other half; he always needed to fix his tie or style a stubborn strand of hair, and it always calmed her nerves to take care of him. 

Back in Italy, Charles was anxiously watching the TV in front of him, some friends, including Carlos, were sitting around the living room, mindlessly chatting about some of the artists performing on the Grammys, what were the plans for the night, the next Real Madrid game...

But Charles eyes were trained on his girl smiling in front of the TV, feeling giddy as she gracefully walked down the carpet on her silky red dress, eyes shining and smile intoxicating. 

The night flew by and Charles swore he could feel your hand squeezing his as they announced the category he had been waiting for. Harry Styles was on the stage with the envelope.

Everything went by so quickly, Charles didn’t notice his friends had shut up and were with their eyes trained on the TV. They all collectively gasped when the brit announced Red by (Y/N) as the song of the year. 

Then it was just noise; from the TV, from people cheering on the theatre as she hid her face on the palm on her hands, to the living room where Charles had rose to his feet hugging everyone around him.

To anyone on the outside it would’ve seemed like their country had won the World Cup. 

“God, I don’t know how to begin,” She shakily said while holding the gramophone. “I know I’m supposed to say that this is for my fans and my label and everyone who believed in me, and it is but...” She smiled to herself. “This is for you, the inspiration behind every word, every verse, every note. My incredible boyfriend who makes my heart sing and my life happy. They haven’t invented the words to tell you how much I love you,” She could feel tears building on the corner of her eyes, until she saw a stage producer informing she only had ten seconds left to wrap up her speech. “God, just ten seconds? Thank you so much to everyone, Char I love you with my entire heart, and thank you to everyone for this I’ll always have this moment in my heart, even after I’m gone I’m sure this is gonna be engraved. Thank you!”

The camera captured her glistening eyes as she smiled through the lens. Charles had unshed tears as his heart was beating loudly. Only seconds passed until his phone was vibrating with an incoming FaceTime call. 

“So... Did you like the red dress?” She joked and he laughed through the unshed proud tears. He never knew he could feel so much pride and love for another person. 

He chuckled. “I loved it, and I love you so much words cannot explain. Fuck, how come I wasn’t there?”

Their love was red.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you

[nouies]

hello and welcome to the first fic rec of 2024 featuring my favourite works from what i’ve read during the past weeks. as always, please check tags before reading. if you liked the fics please reblog their posts, leave kudos and write a nice comment. happy reading! rec tag | more rec lists

— harry/louis —  

໑ Red Wine/Long Nights by lucky28 (G, 1.3k, strangers to lovers, infidelity, fluff) When Louis goes to surprise his boyfriend with an unexpected dinner date, he's nothing but excited. That is, until he runs into his boyfriend's boyfriend along the way.

໑ Abundance by @rockstarlwt28 (M, 1.7k, established relationship, breastfeeding, failure of conception, fluff) The Tomlinson-Styles' family are blessed with their own Christmas miracle, Tallulah Jay. A lifetime of happiness follows her birth, her mother, Louis and father, Harry are instilled with hope and an abundance of love to double their already blossoming marriage.

໑ make my wish come true by localopa / @voulezloux (NR, 2.4k, friends to lovers, flat mates, christmas, angst with happy ending) the one where all harry wants for christmas is lou

໑ heaven in these sheets by @thepolourryexpress (E, 3.5k, established relationship, bunny hybrid louis, pwp, fluff) Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

໑ powerless (and i don't care) by localopa / @voulezloux (E, 4k, established relationship, canon, fluff, slight angst) everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. and louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls harry that.

໑ now you hang from my lips by teenytinytomlinson / @hs3lt2 (E, 6k, red herring, implied cheating, read tags and author’s note) Louis goes out and finds exactly what, or rather who, he’s looking for at the hotel bar.

໑ You're like a Sponge (Abrasive and Colorful) by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 6.5k, coworkers, university au, hate to love sort of) Louis's flirts look an awful lot like insults.

໑ Behind Smoke Stained Curtains by @jaerie (E, 19k, strangers to lovers, a/b/o au, truckers, secret identity, one night stands) The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

໑ i feel like this is the beginning, though I've loved you for a million years by puppyvirvinloui (spanish, NR, 22.8k, established relationship, marriage, sunshine/grumpy, trophy wife louis, pregnancy) Louis quiere un bebé, no está muy seguro de que Harry quiera lo mismo.

໑ sunshine (you temptress) by @petitommo (E, 26.8k, acquaintances, complicated relationships, age difference) Harry had everything he'd ever wanted in life. Well established, in love, and on the very precipice of the rest of his life, everything goes wrong. The road forwards is paved with difficult emotions, firm denial, and a complicated relationship to the strange teenager he'd snorted coke off of that one eventful night at the club.

໑ the mountain between us by happilylarry (NR, 31k, strangers to lovers, plane crash, surgeon harry, photographer louis, injuries, angst) Harry is a surgeon and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to perform a surgery in fourteen hours in Boston. Louis is a journalist and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to be married in ten hours. They decide to charter a private airplane to Denver, where they will get on their respective flights and part ways.

Or so they thought.

໑ You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (T, 32.7k, co-workers, advent fic, library au, christmas, fluff, humour) Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

໑ I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours (T, 34k, strangers to lovers, advent fic, coffee shop au, barista louis, baker harry, food, american au) Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words…and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

— rare pairs —

໑ for the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) by localopa / @voulezloux (louis/zayn, M, 1.5k, exes with benefits, canon au, song fic) zayn and louis are exes. they still sleep together.

#28th appreciation #1dficvillage #1dsource #hlcreators #hljournal #trackinghome #ficsfor4am #* #*rec

[cranberrymoons]

baby, i'm all tied up

prompt: vines (discord drabble) word count: 500 rated: t tags: hellcheer, meet cute, rockstar eddie, makeup artist chrissy

He hadn’t really expected for it to turn out like this, all but immobilized against a pillar while the rest of the band stands around him perched on platforms of different heights which – he’s been told – will eventually look like jagged outcroppings of rock. 

Apparently post production can work miracles, because right now they just look like boxes, and Eddie can feel the fake vines (whatever they’re made out of, rubber?) chafing at his wrists, and –

Well. 

This is what you get for hiring an avant garde French photographer to do the artwork for your third studio album, which just had to be a concept album based on some stupid DND nonsense that he’s absolutely regretting now.

The photographer takes a break to fiddle with one of his lenses, and the makeup artist shuffles forward to touch up his face. He lets her angle his chin this way and that, and he studies her face as she works.

“Any idea how much longer?” he asks after a moment. “I kind of have to pee, and –”

He flexes against the vines to demonstrate, and she laughs.

“Just another hour or so, I think.”

“Oh great,” he says. “I only have to not pee for an hour. Awesome.” 

She smiles again but doesn’t say anything, and he shuts his eyes obediently as her brush tickles over his cheeks and up toward the bags that are probably showing through the concealer. 

So he was out a little late last night; it’s not like he had a photoshoot or anything this morning.

“I’m Eddie,” he says after a moment. He opens his eyes as she reaches into her bag to switch brushes. “By the way.”

She glances up, raising her eyebrows. Her smile is toothy and lovely, and he kind of wishes he wasn’t tied up like this, so he could – he doesn’t really know. Something. Show off somehow.

“I know,” she says. She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Not sure if you’ve heard, but you’re actually a very famous rockstar, and we’re all here because of you.”

“Not all because of me,” he says. She starts on his mouth, and he goes on without moving his lips. “There’s the rest of the ‘and.”

“True,” she says. “There’s always the rest of the and.”

He starts to grin at her, and she taps him on the nose with the end of her brush until he stops. 

“Band,” he says. “I meant band.”

“I know what you meant,” she says. “You’re just lucky I –”

But just then, they call for places, and the rest of the crew pulls back from where they’d been fiddling with the set dressing. She caps the little pot of lip color and places it back in its slot in her bag, and he feels his heart do a flip in his chest as she gives him a last once over and deems him finished. 

“Chrissy,” she says before he has to ask. “My name’s Chrissy. It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.”

[also on ao3]

#stwgdailyprompt #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #hellcheer fic #hellcheer #stranger things #my fic #discord drabble

[enigmarain]

FWtB: Revenge on the bully

From White to Black (Chapter 1)

FWtB: Shower (Chapter 2)

FWtB: Body update (Chapter 3)

FWtB: Loving Mommy (Chapter 4)

FWtB: Caring Daddy (Chapter 5)

_________________________________________

Robbie was lying on the bed and resting, his beloved parents were lying with him. His mother was lying with her head on his chest, and his father was lying lower - his head was on Robbie's groin.

The night was really stormy - the guy had to please his parents from below while they were kissing. The father sat with his pussy on Robbie's penis, and the mother on the guy's face while he did cunnilingus with his tongue.

Now Robbie got up and began to get dressed - he put on a white T-shirt, denim shorts and socks. The T-shirt hugged his muscular torso, and the shorts did not hide his big "device" much. He was going to school.

Despite the changes, classmates didn't care about Robbie's changes either, and no one was embarrassed that the 21-year-old was studying at school. He sat down at his usual place and prepared for lessons.

Robbie had an idea. He wanted revenge on a bully. There was a nasty guy in his class-a guy named Rick. He was a typical muscular guy whose muscles replaced brains.

The black guy knew how he could get revenge on Rick. He knew when to take revenge. But you have to wait for that.

***

Now physical education was over. Robbie came to the men's locker room, where his classmates were changing clothes. Rick was among them.

The guy sat down on a bench and began to change clothes too, but for show - Robbie had a plan. He waited until Rick was alone.

He sat and watched intently. When there were two or three guys left, Robbie took out his phone and pointed it at Rick - he was sitting in the distance and putting on sneakers.

The black guy focused the camera on the bully and finally took a picture. He did it without anyone noticing. It was lucky that the last potential witnesses left before Robbie took Rick's picture.

The guy started Chronivak and began to introduce changes. There was an update of the application, where you can save the memory of the changes to the person who was photographed. And the second update made it possible to change people, changing their appearance not just into a person, but into an object or an animal.

Robbie decided to take advantage of this and began to make changes, and then clicked "Save Changes", before putting a check mark on the item "save memory".

Rick stood up, but almost immediately sat back down on the bench. His body wouldn't obey, and then he saw his arms and legs begin to retract into his body.

- What's goin on?! - he screamed. It was obvious that he was scared.

Robbie, on the other hand, sat and continued to watch the transformation. The bully's body gradually seemed to deflate like a balloon. The legs retracted into the body until there were pathetic stumps, which are a quarter of the hips.

The arms were completely retracted into the torso. Rick couldn't make a single sound anymore, as his voice seemed to have disappeared. The head also began to sink, and the neck shortened.

Holes began to appear at the hips, as well as on the forehead, when the head was pulled into the trunk. The skin changed color to glossy black. And here in Rick's place lay his clothes, gradually disappearing into the air, as well as black latex underpants - Rick turned into it.

Robbie came out when only Rick's underpants were now lying on the bench. He took it and examined them with a grin.

"Enjoy your new position," Robbie said, and began to take off his underpants to put on Rick.

He put it on and began stroking in the groin area. The underpants fit perfectly. With a clasp along the penis.

"You're perfect", - the black guy whispered and began to put on clean clothes. He knew that Rick's consciousness was preserved and now he couldn't do anything, feeling how he was hugging Robbie's body.

"Don't worry", - Robbie continued, - "I can turn you into something else later, but you can't be human anymore"

Rick didn't understand what was going on. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't speak, but he could feel him hugging Robbie's groin, thighs, and buttocks. He tried to at least do something, but he was unable to move on his own.

Robbie made fun of Rick a little bit and still decided to stop torturing him like that when he gets home. He put on shorts, a T-shirt, socks and sneakers and went out with a bag.

"No one knows you're missing somewhere", - Robbie whispered, Rick could somehow hear it.

The guy calmly walked home. He enjoyed his new underpants, which creaked pleasantly.

_________________________________________

FWtB: Ordinary day (Chapter 7)

#chronivac #male transformation #reality change #pants transformation

[stereopticons]

2023 writing round-up

Rules: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones you're most excited about.

Thanks for the tags, @hippolotamus @rmd-writes @kiwiana-writes. This has been a rough year but hey, we've almost made it through.

January

we were loud like love [david/patrick, E, 5k]

David wears a collar. Tenderness and filth ensues.

the world would make sense again (if i held your hand) [twylexis, T, 2.7k]

Twyla finally tries to get over her fear of flying to go visit Alexis. Alexis tries to make it easier for her.

if you'll be my star, i'll be your sky [david/patrick, T, 1.2k]

A small, late-night moment of domestic bliss in the kitchen of the cottage.

puzzling it out [david/patrick, E, 1.9k, part of the wordplay series]

A wrong answer on a crossword puzzle prompts an interesting discovery for Patrick.

February

with a hand on your side of the bed [david/patrick, T, 2.3k]

Five times David falls asleep without Patrick, and one time they wake up together.

March

paint me up (you're my favorite color) for @blackandwhiteandrose [david/patrick, E, 2.5k]

David wears nail polish. Patrick has a lot of feelings about it.

let my love fix you up for @rosedavid [david/patrick, T, 1.7k]

After Patrick is injured while hiking, David takes care of him.

April

your secret's safe with me for @scrarefest [stevie/ruth, M, 3.1k]

Stevie enlists David's help to plan a surprise party for Ruth. It goes about as well as one would expect.

let our shadows fall away like dust for @hippolotamus [david/patrick, E, 3.2k]

David has a bad day. Patrick makes it better the best way he knows how.

May

tangle and stretch [david/patrick, T, 3.3k]

Patrick sees David on a magazine as a child, and David weaves his way into Patrick's life without either of them realizing it.

June

in the long tresses of your hair (i am a babbling brook) [david/patrick, T, 1.3k]

An airplane meet-cute-ish in which Patrick finds himself obsessed with David's hair.

July

(B)13 Reasons Why [david/patrick, T, 3.1k]

collab with @blackandwhiteandrose. Patrick gives David a gift for their 13th wedding monthiversary.

i'll miss you from this place that i stand [david/patrick, T, 1.4k]

After the wedding, all the Roses leave Schitt's Creek within a few weeks of one another. David doesn't handle it very well.

catch my breath to breathe your name [david/patrick, E, 358]

Patrick and David have explored a lot of things together. At the heart of it all is love.

August

never knew a home until i found your hands [alex/henry, E, 1.1k]

Henry and Alex get a little handsy (and have some feelings) at the lakehouse.

touch me [david/patrick, T, 546]

An incomplete list of the ways David and Patrick touch each other during the wedding.

September

knock on wood [david/patrick, E, 3.4k, part of the every year we get a bit closer series]

Five wood-related fifth anniversary gifts that Patrick gives to David, and one (or two) that David gives to Patrick.

you can tell everybody (that this is your song) [david/patrick, T, 1k]

A story of falling in love and David and Patrick trying to find their way to each other told through a series of drabbles inspired by song lyrics.

crossed words and open hearts for @sc-passions-and-pastimes [david/patrick, E, 2.6k, part of the wordplay series]

Five times David needs help with a crossword puzzle and one time he doesn't.

parallax for @sc-passions-and-pastimes [david/patrick, T, 5k]

collab with @indestructibleheart.

Patrick doesn't have an eye for art; he doesn't pay much attention to painting or sculptures. But he likes photography. Well, he likes a photographer in particular, anyway. The mysterious artist known only as D.R. — a black-and-white film photographer from New York — may have disappeared from the world years ago... but Patrick still treasures the one print he'd purchased during a business trip in the city. After all, it may have given him the courage to break his own heart, move to a city he'd never heard of, and meet the love of his life. He hasn't thought about in years. That is, until he's picking up lunch at the café and something familiar catches his eye. The tone, the light — he'd know an original D.R. photo anywhere. "Oh, this?" Twyla grinned, pointing to the frame on the restaurant wall. "David gave me that."

October

everybody's waiting for the next surprise [david/patrick, T, 1.4k]

Stevie drags David to a haunted house on Halloween. They run into a kind stranger in a blue button down in the group ahead of them. You know how this story goes.

November

my misspent youth and my slow decline [david/patrick, T, 800]

Four characters reflect on something that haunts them through four double drabbles. Or, the author projects feelings onto an unprecedented four characters at once.

December

ribbons and bows [david/patrick, E, 1.7k, WIP]

Daily advent calendar drabbles for Schitt's Creek

my only wish is one more year (and then i want them all) [alex/henry, E, 1.7k, WIP]

Daily advent calendar drabbles for RWRB

And, god willing, two Frozen Over fics and one RWRB 5+1 before the end of the year.

I haven't been tracking who's done this, so apologies for tagging you if you already have! @apothecarose @chelle-68 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @lilythesilly @nontoxic-writes @blackandwhiteandrose and anyone else who wants to share!

#sorry for the long post #2023 writing round up #schitt's creek #rwrb

[inu-mothership]

Inu-Mothership Spotlight Saturday: Holiday Edition! Week 2: Food and Drink

Hello everyone! We here at the @inu-mothership are back with our next set of holiday fic recs! This week, our theme is Food and Drink/Cooking and Eating Together, and we have ten stories for you that are focused on the tradition of cooking/baking/eating together. Some of the stories aren't quite holiday-focused, but we hope you will forgive us, as we wanted to find fics that highlighted the joy of sharing a meal.

Stories are listed in alphabetical order, with ship, rating, and status (ongoing or completed) in the parenthetical. We hope you enjoy, and maybe some of these stories will inspire your next meal or your next baking enterprise!

An Annoying Christmas Elf (InuKag; T; complete) by @jeremymarsh

Christmas is still a couple of weeks away and Inuyasha is already sick of hearing the tenant upstairs sing Michael Bublè's entire discography, especially if it's Sunday morning and he's just trying to recover from a hellish week at work. He's ready to give her a piece of his mind, but the meeting doesn't go as hoped.

Apple Pie and Mistletoe (InuKag; M; complete) by @ruddcatha

Called out of town unexpectedly for work just before Christmas, Inuyasha Takahashi asks his best friend Kagome, whom he's secretly loved for years, to house sit. When a storm grounds his plane, will the two friends admit their feelings, or continue to stay silent? What role does Apple Pie and Mistletoe play in what is about to unfold?

The Christmas Cake Tradition (SessKag; T; complete) by @chierafied

In which Sesshoumaru and Kagome attempt to bake a Christmas cake.

Do Hanyos Like Chocolate Chip Cookies? (InuKag; T; complete) by @ruddcatha

Kagome and Inuyasha finally has the opportunity to spend the Christmas Holidays with Kagome's family after several years hunting shards. Kagome teaches Inuyasha the difference between Christmas Cookies and Chocolate Chip Cookies, and some well placed Mistletoe could finally bring feelings to light.

The Fifth Flavor (InuKag; T; complete) by@cannibalsforbreakfast/Laeoukka (Ao3)

Inuyasha is a world-class photographer, living an isolated existence in a crappy second-floor apartment in Tokyo. His pictures go for thousands of dollars, and he'll photograph anything except people.

Kagome is opening a farm-to-table cafe on the first floor.

When Inuyasha's acute senses lead the two to fight on day one, it seems like these unwilling neighbors are destined to hate each other. But food has a way of fixing everything...

It’s Beginning to Look Like, F*** That (SessKagura; M; complete) by @shade-without-color/streamsofstoriesandcolour (Ao3)

What seems like a way to impress Kagura's colleagues, turned into an awkward baking lesson when she was with Sesshomaru. And it did not help that a certain group of people...is well you know…

Merry Christmas, Inuyasha (InuKag; G; complete) by @splendentgoddess

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shrine, the Higurashis were preparing a meal fine. Kagome went to retrieve the chicken with care, not knowing a certain hanyou had followed her there

The Secret Baking Habits of Sesshōmaru (SessKag; G; complete) by kaoruhana (Ao3)

Stress baking is causing a Christmas Cookie problem for Sesshomaru. Good thing his neighbor Kagome has a sweet tooth.

Treat (SessKag; T; complete) by @sereia1313

Kagome surprises Sesshoumaru after a hard day at work.

たべたい (InuKag; T; complete) by @shade-without-color/streamsofstoriesandcolour (Ao3)

Inuyasha's relationship with food is complicated in his mind, however, it always seems to centre around Kagome and his now-found family.

#spotlight saturday #holiday fic recs #week 2: food and drink #inuyasha fanfiction #inu mothership spotlight saturday #fic recs

[the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis]

the exit sign you see even in your dreams

title from the poem "there and back again" by n.m.h. (read on ao3)

Emily Young’s first thought, when she sees Leah Clearwater at her father’s funeral, is simple.

There’s a woman in a long black dress standing at Aunt Sue’s side, arms tucked tight around herself. Her hair is shorn grief-short by her ears. Emily’s gaze catches on the closed-eyed face, and—

She thinks it. Careless. Fast and fleeting.

(Unforgivable.)

Who is that?

The thing is, Emily doesn’t remember when she met her cousin.

She knows, of course. But it's the way you know any story about your childhood self. Gauzy and never quite real, forever entangled with your family's voices and grainy old photographs.

Well, one photo in particular—an oversaturated blur of her mom and Aunt Sue tucked together under a quilt in the big bed at Great-grandma Alice’s house. Her mom’s head rests on Aunt Sue’s shoulder, their grins a perfect pair of exhausted mirrors, and there’s a swaddled baby in each set of arms. (They were recreating some other photo from childhood, two cousins with their baby dolls—Emily’s only seen that one once or twice. Aunt Sue’s side of the family got all the photo albums when Alice died.)

From the blankets, her and Leah reach up with matching chubby fists. Not towards each other, not really, but sometimes Emily lets herself think it—that they knew each other even then. That…

Well.

There’s never been a time she didn’t know Leah.

You had your own little language when you were babies, her mom loves to say. We’d lay you down next to each other and wow you’d just chatter away—we had no idea what you were saying, but both of you sure did!

She tries sometimes, (more, these days), to find the hole in the story. Trawls back through memories for the moment—because there must’ve been a moment. There must’ve.

They didn’t live in the same town, didn’t grow up side-by-side for all that it felt like they did. There were long lonely care rides and frantic races to get the guest bedroom clean, stretches of months missing the T-shirts that Leah always accidentally stole.

So there has to be a moment. One when Emily was old enough to be a person, not just a toddler, and this girl she’d only met as a baby was a stranger…

But she always just ends up with memories of interlaced hands.

Giggles overlap, and even in memory she can’t distinguish which one is hers. Pictures boast two girls with legs tangled together in a tiny red Radio Flyer wagon, and she feels the rust sticking to her legs just below her shorts. Two miniature umbrellas lean precariously close, bursts of color in smoky gray rain.

(Leah’s was printed like a little red ladybug, and Emily’s was a frog. One day Leah’s tore walking home from the Blacks' house, and Emily sprinted over to shelter her cousin. They held that flimsy bright-green shield together all the rest of the way, sweaty hands colliding and elbows jostling each other’s sides—)

The problem is, she thinks, she met Leah when she was too young to know what meeting was. And now, when she goes back looking, there are no words for what she finds.

No—there was never anything to find.

All her life, Emily Young has known Leah Clearwater.

-x-

It’s only a split-second, less than a heartbeat, before neurons fire and memory connects and context clues jog things back into their agonizing place.

Of course it’s Leah, standing beside Aunt Sue with Seth’s hand on her shoulder.

Of course it’s Leah—she’s wearing the black blazer Emily helped her find in a thrift store for a debate team tournament two years ago. (There’s a bleach stain under the collar, Emily knows even though she can’t see it, hidden perfectly by the folds.)

Of course it’s Leah.

But sometime in that second where it wasn’t of course at all, Emily’s stomach plunges straight down to the center of the earth.

Recognition can’t reel it back in.

-x-

Great-Grandma Alice was the first person either of them knew who died, and they held hands through the whole funeral.

That morning, before they stumbled out of the car to reunite with Emily’s mom, (who’d been in La Push helping Aunt Sue take care of things for a month now), Emily's dad had gripped her shoulders tight and made sure she was looking him in the eyes.

He’d said I’m so sorry, sweetheart, and this is going to be so hard for your mama, and I know it’s hard but you have to be a big girl today—

So she’d sat determinedly ramrod-straight on her own chair through the whole service. Through all the songs sung and prayers recited and memories shared. She kept her ankles crossed and didn’t squirm, didn’t wriggle, didn’t start screaming even when she really really wanted to—

But she held on tight to Leah’s hand. It was the one little piece of herself that she let fall outside the boundary of the wobbly folding chair.

Later, everyone was milling together in the yard that just belonged to Great-Grandpa Caleb now, piling casseroles on the picnic tables and hugs on him. Everyone, except—

Leah kicked off one of her little black Mary Janes directly into Uncle Harry’s nose, and sprinted away.

Emily was across the crowd. She had one hand clutched tight in her dad's the other slowly squashing a little muffin that was supposed to taste like cinnamon and just tasted like dust. She heard the yelling first. Aunt Sue's voice ringing, Leah Mirabelle Clearwater, you get back here right now!

Then a glimpse of her cousin’s bright-red face, braids unraveling furiously as she ducked a whole net of arms—

Emily lost both of her shoes running after her.

They ended up in a thicket of mooseberry together, the big one in Mrs. Marjory’s yard down the street. (She’d grumble whenever she caught them in there, but then she’d come back with peanut butter cookies, so probably it all evened out—Emily wasn’t thinking about it, not that day.)

She got there later than Leah, pushed her way through a lace of already broken twigs. They scratched at her hair, clawed seams into her black tights. A shock-red berry burst under her fingers, smeared across the blanket of white flowers that had already fallen, wilted—

“Go away,” Leah sniffled. She was on the ground, back to Emily, knees clutched up to her chest. Spots of blood soaked through the torn white sock on her one shoeless foot. "You're bad at hiding. I don't want to get caught."

Emily crawled closer, into the heart of the hedge where it was just years and years worth of brown leaves crunching under her knees.

“I’m not bad at hiding.” Her face was too hot, pulling itself into a knot that hurt, but she couldn’t untangle it. “I’m not.”

Leah didn't move. Emily wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake hard enough to roll her over and look her in the eyes. She wanted to slap her, hard and loud as the crack of breaking branches.

She wanted her friend. She wanted someone to hold her shaking, berry-smeared hands, to weave a bracelet onto her wrist, to brush the hair back from her sweat-matted forehead. (She wanted her great-grandmother to still be there.)

“I’m not,” she whispered, one last time, and curled downward into the leaves.

They broke under her, and it didn’t quite cover the sound of her sob as she laid her head on Leah’s shoulder.

There were twigs in her cousin’s hair. One of them scraped her cheek. There were tiny shudders running through her shoulders as Leah held herself still, unbreathing—

Leah rolled over, jolting Emily back up. Her hands whirled around Emily tight enough to choke. Suddenly it was her face pressed into Emily’s shoulder, her desperate grasp on the back of Emily’s dress.

“I know, Em,” she whispered, and then they were both crying together. Two muddy, grief-numb girls under withering leaves, wrapped too close together to ever pull apart.

-x-

Emily must stare for too long as the world plummets out from beneath her feet, because Leah’s eyes snap over and fix on her.

For a second Emily is twelve years old, lakeside sun splashing over her shoulders. Her cousin catches her eye as the twins’ little brother bounces around her, and they’ve spent the last two weeks smushed so thoroughly side-by-side that she can read everything the other girl won’t say in that single glance—

How dare you, screams the glint in those black eyes, the hint of red around them, tears she isn’t letting fall. How dare you, snarls the jut of Leah’s chin, her bloodless lips pressed tight, her hands laced together in front of her—

Emily’s mom keeps walking.

(She’s been here for a week now, drove down the night it happened. She’s been staying with Aunt Sue. Emily didn’t get to see her until this morning, when they met for coffee and Emily could hardly bear to raise her eyes from the scarred cafe table.)

Emily’s mom doesn’t falter. Doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even seem to see that Emily’s feet have caught.

Leah doesn’t tilt her head. Doesn’t nod, or jut her chin, or anything. She doesn’t move.

Leave, her silence says, leave now. You don’t deserve to mourn with us.

“Em?” her mom says, finally turning.

There’s a lump in Emily’s throat, swelling and sour and poisonous.

Her scars burn like they’re splitting back open all over again, settling an ache into her cheekbone that grinds down to her teeth. Her muscles spasm with the pain, like it's the first days of learning them all over—

-x-

Uncle Harry had been the one waiting by her hospital bed the first time she woke up after…

After.

She jolted up with a scream on her lips.

(It didn’t hurt, but she could feel the stitches tugging in her face as her lips stretched, a promise of pain that she couldn’t quite find—)

Adrenaline sang in her veins. The last image, a black wolf in black woods, oozed together with blurred recollections of car backseats and bloodsplash and Aunt Sue, worried voices and excuses about a bear.

“Easy, Em,” Uncle Harry said, soft and steady as always. His hand settled cautiously on her arm. “Easy.”

When she was seven, staying a whole two and a half summer weeks with her aunt and uncle—without her parents! just her and Leah!—she crashed her bike.

She’d learned how to ride it months before that, even earlier than Leah, which of course had meant she'd had to win their race down the hill by the general store. But then her feet had tangled in the pedals, panic had seized her by the throat, and—

Aunt Sue was at work, so it was Uncle Harry who came panting down the hill in her wake, baby Seth on his hip.

Easy, he’d said, licking his thumb and wiping a smudge of blood off her cheek, Easy there, Em. It’s okay. You’ll be right as rain.

That day in that afternoon-gray hospital room, it was the same deep voice, the same words. But—

Under summer skies, he’d wrapped his one hand tight, just under her elbow, and pulled her up onto wobbling feet. By the hospital bed, he just brushed her arm, tentative around a nest of IV lines, a warm fingertips that trembled just the slightest bit.

Fourteen years before, Leah had turned around the second Emily fell, abandoned her bright-purple bike in the road with one tire still spinning. She’d sprinted back to Emily’s side, panic scrawling through every breath, and taken Seth out of her father’s arms so that he could pull Emily upright.

It was just Uncle Harry in the room, a lonely vigil in the chair. Leah had his eyes, the shape and the thick eyebrows and the one dimple that Emily had been so jealous of, but he wasn’t smiling now—

And he didn’t tell her it would be alright.

Of course, she thought, heart hammering. Because it wasn’t alright. Because—because oh, Leah, Leah, Leah, it would never be right again—

She thought, dizzily, of rain. Of splashing into a puddle in perfect unison with her cousin, hand in hand, shrieking as it splashed up over both of their knees.

“Stay with me, kiddo,” Uncle Harry said.

She was trying. Her head was full of cotton, her throat dry as bone. Outside the window sun streamed down, but she could hear a storm rattling the glass.

“The nurses are on their way, okay kiddo? And they say you’re gonna heal. It just might take some time.”

She had an answer to that maybe, but if it existed at all it was hopelessly stranded in the desert of her throat.

“Just time,” Uncle Harry said. Even with her pulse hammering and the hiss of rain against the ringing in her ears, Emily heard how lost he sounded.

-x-

“Em?” her mom repeats.

Leah looks away. Her eyes don’t flicker, her lips don’t curve, the stone set of her jaw doesn’t bend.

She does it easily. Carelessly. Like she can just look away, just like that. Like she didn’t just run Emily through with nothing but her eyes.

Leave, her thrown-back shoulders still scream. You don’t belong here, whisper the bloodless knuckles of her hands where they cling to her ribs.

“I—I’m sorry,” Emily says. “I—”

There are no words left.

There’s Seth turning to look at her now, tracking his sister’s bad mood back, tear-splotched face crumpling even further into itself when he finds her.

There’s Aunt Sue staring out over the line of mourners filing into her backyard with the shadow of a frown between her eyebrows.

There’s a ghost on the back deck.

He presses a kiss into his wife’s hair, and her eyes slip closed in relief. He leans a fishing pole next to the sliding glass door and reaches out to throw an arm around his son—who protests that he smells like fish, but he just laughs and pulls him in closer to ruffle his hair. He holds out a hand—

His daughter takes it. Fearlessly, teeth bared, she takes it and scrambles up onto the porch railing. Her feet are steady, her steps are sure. Unfailingly confident that her father will catch her if she slips.

“I can’t,” Emily says, and turns to run.

-x-

The thing is—

-x-

“No, it goes under,” Emily told Leah, “just like a braid.”

Her cousin’s nose wrinkled as she looked up, away from the tangle of pink-yellow-blue threads taped down to the footboard of Emily’s bed.

“Braids have three pieces, this is nothing like that.”

“Yeah, but—okay, here, here, just let me do it.”

“You can’t make your own friendship bracelet!” Leah slapped her hand away, and Emily tried to protest, but she was already laughing.

-x-

“Em, trust me! It’s gonna be okay!”

All around Leah, the sea shone—green and huge, stretching out to fathomless blue at the blur of the horizon, splashing into silver foam as her cousin threw her hands up to wave at her.

Emily edged closer to the stony lip of the cliff. It wasn’t that tall, really, she told herself. Just a quick little jump. Leah had already done it.

“You got this!” her cousin hollered again, and despite herself, her hammering heart, Emily could feel a smile curling her lips.

Brave like Leah, she told herself, and flung herself out into the breathtaking sky before she could think another word.

-x-

“Are you picking your bridesmaids now too?” Leah teased, flopping upside down over the edge of her bed. Her hair poured over the glossy magazine spread of white dresses.

“Hey,” Emily protested, swiping at her—but then she made the mistake of looking up. Leah’s eyes were bugged out, huge and dramatic. A giggle bubbled up in Emily’s stomach.

“Whatever,” she said, rolling onto her back. “I don’t even need to pick. I know it’ll be you.”

-x-

“It’s gonna be okay, Leah. We’ll find him.”

“Yeah,” Leah said—but her eyes stayed on the Clearwater’s empty fireplace, her shoulders hunched in on themselves into a silhouette lonely and sharp as a knife.

Emily paused at the edge of the couch.

There was ice still curling in her fingertips. Spring was damp and frozen-over this year, and the heater in Emily’s car on the fritz, so the drive down to La Push had been miserable even without the memory of Leah’s panic over the phone, clutching at Emily’s lungs—

“Hey,” she said, stooping to gather up the wool blanket that had lived on the arm of this couch for as longer than she could remember. “We will. Your mom’s even coordinating the search party, right? If anyone’s got finding superpowers…”

Leah’s snort was half-hearted at best. She still didn’t look up.

Emily shook the blanket out, and wrapped it tight around her. She kept her arms draped around Leah with the fabric, sinking down onto the cushions beside her.

All around them, the shadows breathed—filling the silence, pressing down heavy on the room. Floorboards sighed. Outside, the porchlight buzzed. Leah held her breath, so Emily did too.

“We were going to leave together,” Leah said finally, small and thin. “He deferred his acceptance to Seattle, and we were…we were going to…”

Her voice didn’t break so much as fall, spinning down and down into the depths of the dark.

Emily clung tighter, and finally Leah melted onto her shoulder.

-x-

“Can you bring that pink lemonade cake recipe when you all come down? Seth hasn’t shut up about it since the last time you made it, and—”

Emily wound the phone cord around her wrist and leaned over to see if she could reach her recipe portfolio across the counter. “I thought you were ignoring his birthday this year?”

Leah scoffed on the other end of the phone. “I mean, I said that.”

“Sibling thing?” Emily teased, catching one of the ribboned corners. “Thank goodness I don’t know what that’s like.”

“I think you count as basically my sister at this point,” Leah said, “remember how my parents grounded you last time you were visiting?”

“Ooh, yeah, am I even allowed to bake in your dad’s kitchen anymore?” She dragged the book closer and started rifling through. “’Cause he did seem pretty mad about—”

“I still think he should’ve just been glad I knew we have a fire extinguisher,” Leah groused immediately, and Emily burst into a laugh.

-x-

“I’ll kick his ass for you,” Leah said. Emily choked on the changing shape of her sob, caught halfway to a laugh.

“No, hey, I mean it.” Leah grabbed Emily’s hand, and wove her fingers tightly through hers. She’d been out running just before Emily got here, and her skin was warm.

It had been a joke ever since they were kids—Leah would dash outside barefoot in the middle of January snow, and Emily wouldn’t leave the house unless she had three layers of jackets with her—

“Em. You deserved better. Tell me you know that.”

“I don’t know.” The lump in her throat swelled, and she swiped her free hand furiously across her eyes. It didn’t help, she could still feel them burning. “I mean, I knew he wasn’t, like, a great guy. I should’ve ended things sooner, I just…”

“You wanted to be happy,” Leah said fiercely, her grip tightening. “Em, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

A shudder tore down Emily’s shoulders. She yanked her hand away from Leah’s, and buried her face in her knees.

Bedsprings creaked, and Leah’s weight vanished from the end of the bed. Good, fine, Emily thought—but the tears were already starting up again, and she was so fucking tired of crying about this boy—

When she came up for air, Leah was waiting cross-legged at her feet, holding a glass of water. Emily’s heart ached.

“I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, reaching out.

“Of course you do,” Leah said. Her smile was fragile, but she took Emily’s hand again, and her grip was as steady as ever. “We’re cousins, right?”

-x-

“Yeah, but I don’t need to make money being a teacher.” Emily leaned into Leah’s shoulder, ignoring her eye-roll. “I’ll just mooch off of you when you’re a successful big-city lawyer.”

“Like I even wanna go to law school.” Leah elbowed Emily in the ribs, so lightly that Emily just leaned harder.

“Come on, I was at your first debate tournament. And you’re gonna get a basketball scholarship, you know you are, so don’t even—”

“You need to stop reading my mind,” Leah said, but there was a smile playing around the corner of her lips.

“Only when you stop doubting yourself,” Emily sang—then yelped away when Leah lunged for her pillow and swung it toward her.

-x-

“I’m not crying about it,” Leah said, but even over the phone Emily could tell her best friend’s voice was thick with tears. She closed her eyes and wished desperately she could drive back down to La Push—but she’d been down just last weekend for Rachel and Rebecca’s going-away party, and she had a shift at the marina this weekend—

“It’s okay if you are,” she said, trying to make her voice as soft as possible, “I’m gonna miss Rachel and Rebecca too.”

“I just…” Leah exhaled, and Emily could hear her nails tapping nervously against the phone. “Do you ever think about how everything’s changing right now? I don’t know, sometimes I’m worried that…”

She trailed off into static, and a faint rustle. Emily pictured her swapping the phone from ear-to-ear, biting the inside of her cheek like she always did when she got nervous.

“Hey,” she said, firm, once the silence stretched too long for Leah to be formulating a response. “I know it doesn’t change how much it sucks that they’re gone. But I promise that I’m not going anywhere.”

Leah’s watery laugh cracked halfway through, and she was sobbing on the other end of the phone.

-x-

“You girls take care of each other now,” Aunt Sue said, hands on her hips.

Emily nodded, a little shiver running down her spine at the responsibility—they were going to the park by themselves! no grown-ups!—but she could feel Leah practically bouncing at her side.

“We promise,” she told her aunt, jutting up her chin.

Aunt Sue smiled, faint and fond. “Alright. I’m trusting you.”

Emily squeezed Leah’s hand. Her cousin squeezed back without a second of hesitation.

“We’ll be okay,” she said, and her voice was even brighter than the summer sun.

-x-

Five years and fourteen hundred miles from the funeral, Emily Young will finally stop running.

She will be sore and a little shaky from a long drive she took alone, neck cricked from the curve of the seat, heart climbing out of her throat along with all the air from her lungs.

An apology will curl on her tongue as she locks the car and shuffles through gray parking lot snow, rehearsed in the rearview mirrors as she drove and the cracked motel glass last night; but also in the hollow spaces of her wedding photographs, in the falter of her fingers halfway through a phone number before remembering the voice she wanted to hear wouldn’t be on the other end of it…

She will tuck her hands into her coat pockets against bitter wind, but it will fail to hide the way they tremble.

She will recognize Leah the second she steps into the cafe.

#is this original content? #emily young #leah clearwater #IT'S HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE #i have put. so many tears into this fanfic #please ask me questions abt it if you want. by the way. i have so many more thoughts

[captain-mj]

Angels of Digitalism

I have the Rock Star AU y'all ordered! Changed it a little to explain why Soap is interacting with them. Will do a part 2 if asked. Very heavy on the GhostRoach

Soap saw the ad and almost flipped. Simple ad honestly. Digital artist needed. Decent pay but there was a line that said they would be open to negotiation. All of that was interesting sure. 

But the thing that drew his attention was the name of the band asking. 

Angels of Digitalism. 

His favorite fucking band was asking if someone could help them with some digital art. 

Something he did all the time!! He was looking for jobs right now and this was perfect. 

Soap applied immediately and almost immediately got a reply back. A little surprising just how fast they responded. 

“Can you get transportation to this location?” He followed it up with an address. 

Soap checked the distance. “Yeah, it’s not too far.”

“Good. Be here as soon as you can. Like…. Right now.”

“Oh! Okay!” Soap rushed to get dressed. He tried to find some of his better clothing that followed the aesthetic of the band. Ripped jeans and a black t-shirt. After some thought, he decided to do a plain one. He didn’t want to wear a band shirt in case it came off weird. Wearing one of their shirts may seem obsessive but wearing someone else’s may be off putting. A few minutes later and he realized maybe he was putting a little too much thought into his shirt. 

Soap rushed over there and while in the car, he thought over the band. So on paper, there were three members. Ghost, the back up vocalist and guitar player, Roach, the main vocalist, and an unknown masked member that goes on stage and fucks with a computer occasionaly. All of them wore masks, covering all of their faces but occasionally letting their hair down, but the third member didn’t even have a name. There were also drums and other instruments, but they weren’t done by a person, but by algorithms and bots. It was part of the appeal. A mix of techno and old style punk that was the whole point. Soap genuinely loved the music, but there was also the performances. It made sense that they’d need a digital artists. A lot of it was based on lights, colors and costuming. Well… So were most performances Soap realized after thinking about it for a minute. But he loved watching their concerts. 

The two of them danced so well. Both of them being so attractive did not hurt. During the last performance, Roach had been shirtless and he did some… Soap had watched Magic Mike and that had been the closest thing he had seen to the dancing he had done on Ghost, all while he continued to play guitar like nothing was happening. 

Also, there was occasionally a person that appeared. It was always confusing because they could never be photographed but 

Soap already knew he didn’t really have a chance. He was not going to be the y/n in a fanfiction who gets either of them. Let alone both of them. 

He got there faster than he expected and rushed out so he could go inside. 

There were two men standing out front. One of them looked… vaguely like Ghost. A little smaller, but he supposed the stage may make him look bigger. The other could be Roach. A little bigger, but… stage stuff. 

Yeah. Stage stuff. 

The smaller one was Hispanic and had a grey hoodie on while the other had a long sleeved tan shirt on and jeans. Both smelled like cologne, but the taller one smelled like he drowned himself in the stuff. 

“Hey.” The American accent out of “Ghost” caught him off fucking guard. “Soap?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I’m Alex. This is Rodolfo.” Neither offered their hands to shake so Soap kept his by his sides. 

Soap nodded. “Ah. Little surprised you guys told me your names.”

They stared at him blankly before Alex laughed. “I’m not fucking Ghost. He’s inside. Still wearing a skull mask. Roach is also inside. I’m just the guy running the computer.”

“Oh…”

“I’m their manager. You think I look like him? He’s a twink.” 

Alex glanced at Rodolfo and motioned to him. “I mean… aren’t you also a twink?”

“Get fucked. Anyway, no. I’m not Roach.” Rodolfo sighed. “We have a laptop that’s hooked up to the backdrop. Anything you draw on the laptop appears there. We need you to design some things. Also, do you do traditional art? Like painting and stuff?”

“Yeah.” 

“Cool. We’ll double your pay to also paint the backdrop. Three colors that correspond to the lights. Each disappears when a different light is on.” Rodolfo started to walk and Soap quickly followed to keep listening. “You paint the stuff. You made the designs. We have three weeks to do.”

“What designs do you need?”

“Ghost and Roach will tell you. Basically they’ll show you the routine and you design something around it. They seemed pretty excited about this one since Ghost won’t be playing the guitar.”

“Oh? Why won’t he be playing?”

“Injury.” 

Soap stared at him for a moment before realizing he was being serious. “What?”

“Injured his wrist so he can’t play.” Rodolfo looked at him.

“Won’t that prevent him from performing?” 

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s not in a cast.”

Soap frowned and just vaguely nodded after a minute. “Yeah, okay…”

“Anyway, come on stage.” Rodolfo stepped up on to the stage and Soap followed. Silks, like those from an acrobatic performance, were hanging above them and there was someone wrapped around them high above their heads. 

“Roach. Come down and meet Soap.” 

Soap looked up and watched him spin down, twirling and he tangled the silks right before he hit the ground. 

Okay, that was the exact size he expected. Roach only had a medical mask on. He had medium brown hair that fell around his ears and bright green eyes. Right now, he only had sweatpants and socks on. 

Yeah, definitely a twink. Though he was toned. Probably from his performances and constant practice. 

“Nice to meet you.” Soap kicked himself for his awkwardness but also was happy he didn’t stutter. 

Roach looked him up and down before meeting his eye again, just staring. 

“My name is Soap. Like Rodolfo said.” Soap tried, feeling a bit awkward.

“He won’t talk.” Ghost, he could tell by the fact that his voice was both really deep, gravely and clearly from Manchester, spoke right behind him. Soap definitely did not jump out of his skin. He glanced around but Rodolfo had disappeared. 

“Oh. Like a pre concert thing? Makes sense.”

“No. He’s mute.” 

Soap frowned. “I… I feel like I’m missing something.” 

“He can’t talk. Is that a problem?” Ghost growled at him and Soap looked up at him. 

Oh. 

He was a little scarier up close. Tattoos went all the way up his arms and he had his skull mask on. 

“N-no! Not at all! Just how do you guys… sing?”

“He uses a vocaloid. Obviously.”

“Oh. Yeah, no one knows that.” 

Ghost laughed for a second. “Seriously?? No one?”

“There’s an entire conspiracy theory about it actually. Because his jaw doesn’t move.” Soap glanced at Roach, noticing he was blushing. For a second, he thought he may have embarrassed him before noticing that no, he was just laughing. Roach looked at him, clearly smiling and happy and Soap started to feel flustered. 

Ghost hummed. “God our fans are stupid. Im retiring.”

“NO YOU’RE FUCKING NOT SIMON.” Rodolfo screamed across the venue. “PUT WAY TOO MUCH MONEY INTO THIS. OUR LABEL WOULD KILL US.”

Soap frowned. “Man i really thought it was just the three of you guys…” So his favorite band had more hands on deck than he thought. 

“Nope. Anyway, since Rudy left, I will show you where to go.” Ghost showed him the laptop and both him and Roach watched over his shoulder. Soap quietly opened it, deciding not to bring up how unsafe it was to not have a password. 

“So what did you guys want me to do?”

“So we’re going to have lights flashing on and off that will change the coloring. We’re going to be covered in different paints so there will be tons of color. We need a background in black and white that’s going to follow us during our routine.” 

Soap nodded. “Let me see your routine real quick. I want to draw the lines of movement so that I can make sure I match it.”

The two of them nodded and a second later he heard music he didn’t recognize. Before he could get excited at potentially hearing brand new music, he realized it was Mitski. 

They practiced using Mitski. 

Soap had a lot of feelings about that. 

The two of them circled around each other, both of them masked but wearing much less clothing. There was also the fact that there were no bright lights or makeup to obscure them. 

Soap recorded their performance and watched them. 

Ghost grabbed Roach suddenly and spun him, Roach’s legs going around his waist as they moved. They separated and Roach started to dance along the beams with Ghost all but chasing him. Roach grabbed one of the silks and jumped out of Ghost’s grasp, slowly twirling. They slowed for a second, but Soap wasn’t sure if it was part of the routine. The two of them had made eye contact and they seemed to be enveloped in each other before they went back to moving. 

Their dancing was beautiful. Soap wondered if they were professional dancers or just picked it up due to their performances. Roach moved like a gymnast, twirling in the air and moving with an unearthly grace. 

Finally the song ended and Roach ended up in Ghost’s arms, the two of them just staring. 

Soap paused. He thought Alejandro, the artist they occasionally hung out with, was dating Roach. 

Well, now that he was thinking of it. Alejandro said he was dating someone in the band and Soap had just found out there were a lot more members than he thought. 

He thought so hard that he almost missed the quick kiss Roach gave Ghost’s cheek before stepping away and looking at Soap. 

Soap gave him a thumbs up and cut off the recording. He then drew a mockup of the general lines of motion, making them a little big so if there were slight deviances, the designs would still follow their movements. 

Soap sat on the couch in the back stage area and started to draw. They moved around him and occasionally one of them would look at what he was doing, give criticism and then keep going. He kinda thought that should’ve gave him more instructions if they had opinions but so far all Ghost said was “Get creative”. So a black and white canvas that follows their movements. No theme. There would be colors. Fantastic. 

Soap tried to put… something together. He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder by Alex.

“Want coffee?”

“Oh. Sure?”

“Good.” He handed Soap forty dollars. “Go get coffee for everyone please. I’ll text you our orders.” 

Soap stared at him but Alex was already wandering off. Look, technically everyone else seemed to also be working hard. Alex was clearly coding something, Ghost and Roach were still practicing and working on music and Rodolfo had a small pile of paperwork in front of him that he clearly needed to get done. Some of the slips of paper had giant red letters and that didn’t look promising. 

But he was also working!! What gives??

After silently fuming about it for a minutes, but ultimately deciding that Alex already gave him the money, Soap went and got the stupid coffee. Rodolfo had an iced caramel macchiato with six extra shots of espresso, Roach had a white chocolate mocha, Ghost had a shaken espresso and Alex had a black coffee. Soap stared at him for a minute to see if he was being pretentious, but he seemed to genuinely like the coffee. 

Like a freak. 

Who likes black coffee from coffeeshops? You make it at home or its just not good. 

While staring at Alex, he watched him kick his leg into the table and it bent. In Half. Not at the knee. 

Soap gagged and Alex laughed. “It’s just a prosthetic. Don’t worry.”

“How did you lose your leg?” Soap asked before wincing. “Oh, sorry. Don’t answer that.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I lost in the war.” 

Soap blinked, trying to do the mental math to think of Alex’s age versus the wars in the area.

“Not like the military. It was me, a dumpster and some raccoons.”

Soap stared at him, trying to figure out the joke here. There was a joke. What was the joke?

“Yeah… the Dumpster one. Lost two raccoons that day. What a waste. They were good dumpster diving buddies, ya know?”

“I’ve never went dumpster diving.”

“Really?” Alex looked so genuinely surprised Soap felt like he should be offended. Instead, he just walked away. 

Soap settled down with his own drink, something unfortunately low in caffeine since he had to be careful with his meds, and started working again. He wanted to get rough sketches of the animations for the background, animations would work better plus they were projecting anyway, he wanted this to be cool and impress these guys even if they were… much more… 

Alright, so they were kinda losers. Still hot though. Even the scary small one. 

The lights went out across the entire venue and Soap let out a… less than manly scream. A phone flashlight lit up in front of him and he blinked.

“Uh… Which of you is it?”

Roach tilted the light so it illuminated his face. He smiled at him and offered him his hand. Soap took it and Roach gently led him outside. It had gotten dark and only now did he realize how long he had been there. 

Roach looked at him for a moment before punching his shoulder and texting him. 

“See you tomorrow - :)”

Soap felt so giddy at having the Roach’s phone number now. “See you tomorrow. When should I come by?”

“We’ll be arriving at 12 so any time after that works.” 

Ghost, Soap could tell because who else would have a helmet with a skull on it, turned on his motorcycle and waved to them. Roach rushed over and got on the back, arms wrapping snugly around Ghost’s waist. Ghost gave a two finger salute to Soap before they both left, leaving Soap to stand there. 

Not the most eventful first day, but they would be working together for at least two weeks. Maybe longer if he could convince them to keep him around. 

Soap finally let the little freak out he had been holding in since that morning in. 

#johnny soap mactavish #john price #captain john price #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #soap cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod #gary roach sanderson #ghostroach #roachghost #soapghostroach #eventually #alex keller

[marciabrady]

What is Cinderella's hair color?

This is totally up to interpretation! Ilene Woods was pretty much the basis of everything when they were creating Cinderella, from her temperament to her facial structure to her coloring to her sayings to her eye placement when she smiled, and even Ilene's hair color is hard to read. She was definitely objectively blonde- she was referred to as such on radio shows and even in the press announcement that was released when she was cast as Cinderella. But in a lot of photographs, her hair appears brunette on camera- and there's a few reasons for this. First and foremost, the relatively primitive nature of cameras from that time period really couldn't capture nuances in natural tones- so unless your hair was platinum white or bleached, it would probably read brunette, and everything else would register as darker, inevitably. Plus, we're used to seeing people with bleached/colored hair these days, so what is truly considered a natural blonde- albeit dirty or a darker or just a more "natural" toned blonde- many contemporary people refer to, on a superficial lens- as brunette. So, I think Ilene was a dirty blonde, even though I've seen pictures of her later in life where she looks like a neutral blonde that is neither very light or very dark.

When it comes to Cinderella's intended/official hair color, that's also a can of worms. So, people are quick to discredit the platinum blonde Cinderella has appeared with in the 80s/90s/2000s/2010s merch and say she's a 'strawberry' blonde. They claim this is because of how she looks in the 'original' movie, but they're using the 2013 blu ray/2005 dvd master to go off of, which is even influencing current artwork of Cinderella in the Disney Princess franchise, and that master- beyond scrubbing all the linework out of the film (see screenshot below- look at how even the 1988 VHS maintains the lines in the bedding better than the 2005 and 2013 rubbery effect) also had inaccurate representations of the color relationships between elements in the film, which- again- means that you're not going to see what was intended.

The team that worked on remastering the current 4K edition of Cinderella that came out this year (which I love btw! I'm still not super pleased with certain changes BUT it's a MASSIVE, MASSIVE improvement over the 2005/2012 master that had been done in 2003 and is far more pleasing to look at and, generally, my favorite restoration Disney has officially done) said that they referenced the original cel artwork, as well as promotional materials like lobby cards to better understand what the artistic intent was...and that's tricky. Because, while they interpreted it better than remasters of the 2000s/2010s which sought to LITERALLY make the film look exactly like the raw cel art, these movies were not meant to be viewed as, I do think they still stuck too close to the cel colors. Due to the nature of technicolor, a lot of color tests had to be done so that the artists could see what the finished product would look like after it had gone through the process of being printed on film- because it was always apt to differ greatly from the artwork on cel. A good example of this is the fact that blonde hair didn't read so the artists had to color it with a green tint on the original cels (see first screenshot below) so that it'd appear blonde on camera. However, again, I think the team looked too deeply into this and now we've ended up with a master, a gorgeous one, but a faulty one that depicts Cinderella's hair as almost green in 2023 (see right screencap from 4K remaster)

When it comes to lobby cards, they're not going to be accurate either. I've seen lobby cards that were released in 1959 that depict Aurora as a brunette, blonde, and redhead, and they even change the color of her peasant dress to green, blue, pink- anything you can think of. And Cinderella's hair differs greatly in the lobby cards from the 50s themselves

The funny thing is, it really seems to be decade dependent. I actually have access to a 1973 print and I think that's what the basis for the 2005/2013 master was, because the colors are very similar to that strawberry blonde and even the hues of the hallway in the chateau look nearly identical to the 2005/2013, and we never seen those colors again outside of those two masters. It's so odd it premiered in the 70s, that specific master, because in that decade, and in the 60s, they marketed Cinderella more as a brunette and gave Aurora the blonde title (which was reversed in the 2000s, where they almost made Aurora a light brunette and made Cinderella platinum beyond belief):

You can even see Disney's confusion at what her hair is supposed to be; in the sequel, they gave Cinderella the platinum hair of the marketing at the time, but in the third movie, they tried to be more 'faithful' and cinematic and went off of the current, faulty, master of the time...which resulted in an unappealing turnout, imo? Like her skin and hair shouldn't be that close, color relationship wise, on film? (again, merch is always a different color)

Also in House of Mouse, which is generally accurate with a lot, they make Pete put a red wig on when he's in Cinderella garb, indicating they thought that was the color of her hair at that point:

Also, I feel like she's not supposed to be a true redhead or lean as close to strawberry blonde or people say she is? Again, cels shouldn't be viewed strictly for the color themselves, but if we observe the color relationship between her hair and that of Anastasia's- who is a true redhead- there's a huge difference:

There are also a few production notes that we do have that can help a little. We know Cinderella's Prince was made to have much darker hair to contrast hers, so they could be visually striking with one another, again leading us to the conclusion that she does have light hair (which kinda dodges the 60s/70s artwork where she's a dusty brunette). We also know that Disney tried to make the Prince in Snow White sandyhaired, but it came across on camera as dark brown and didn't provide that much of a contrast to Snow White, which they were able to capture more successfully in books of that era, all through even the 80s/90s. I, personally, really love this book especially and I find the colors of everything- the interiors, Cinderella, her dress, etc- ring true to me, personally:

And this color can be seen anywhere as brunette to some, to sandy, to blonde, to dirty blonde, to slightly red- and that's how I think Cinderella's hair is. I think she's a warm level 7, if we're going by a professional hair chart, and it's like a russet blonde color? Hints of red that could make someone see her as a redhead, or just a blonde, or to some who view blondes as solely being platinum, she'd almost even appear as a brunette. That being said, Aurora is definitely a blonde and in the current master we have, her skin appears pink/red and her hair looks greenish, so if anyone who's working on the future 4K master of Sleeping Beauty could fix that, it would be greatly appreciated!!

#ask #anonymous #cinderella #cinderella 1950 #marciabrady #this is so long lol i hope someone finds this interesting #also for what it's worth helene stanley was a redhead

[dei-lab-assistant]

Nothing Builds a Friendship Like a Crisis (part 2)

Co-written with multifandoms27 Summary: Kaiba hired you to assist Mokuba for one day as Mokuba performed his monthly inspection of the local, Domino City branch of Kaiba Land. You were totally up to the task, until things spiraled out of your control in the worst way possible. Dub canon plus a version of DSOD. Female Reader. Set maybe two years post DSOD. Fun fact: I always write my Reader character with personality and specific description. This means she may not be as generic as is customary for this type of story. Each reader character also has a specific place in the Yu-Gi-Oh world, and is basically an OC with set connections and feelings about the various canon characters and other reader characters. This is reader B, who is immune to the siren song of romance, cheap, eccentric, logical, and hands-on. Word count: 1,495 You can read part 1 here.

Mokuba was dressed for work, wearing a button up shirt, tie, and dress pants. If he were in an office, the choices would have seemed normal, but since the two of you were spending the day in an amusement park, he looked quite out of place. At the moment, Mokuba was talking to each of the attendants working in the arcade, asking them questions, looking at spreadsheets, and trying to gauge how popular the newest game cabinets were. You wore your usual cargo capris, brightly colored socks, and a t-shirt decorated with little images of Scapegoat ringing the ends of the sleeves. Atop your head you wore a baseball cap and sunglasses; you had no intention of being identified in any paparazzi photographs if you could help it—fame seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

Standing around, you eyed the snack bar, wanting one of the neon colored slushies marked as “extremely sour” on the menu board, but simultaneously not wanting to spend your money on overpriced theme park drinks. Men in dark suits and sunglasses loitered around as well—Mokuba’s security detail: Cole, Bishop, and… you couldn’t remember the names of the other two. Eventually, Mokuba finished talking with the employees, and walked back. You helped him sort his notes—asking questions, listening closely to his answers, acting like both of you were adults, even though Mokuba wasn’t one, and you rarely felt like a grownup. The guards did a good job of gently brushing away anyone who tried to approach without permission, as Mokuba finally concluded he was certain all Kaiba Corp regulations and standards were being met in the arcade. It was time for fun. Starting with rhythm games before moving on to dancing games, you and Mokuba had a blast. After working up a bit of a sweat, you leaned against the metal handrail attached to the dancing game, “Why are you so good at this?” Mokuba grinned at you, “Practice.” “Practice? I don’t want to have to practice to get good at games!” You enjoyed joking around with Mokuba, it felt natural, almost like he was your little brother—no, thoughts like that were dangerous. Even if Mokuba had taken a shine to you, there was no way the Kaiba brothers were about to let you into their circle of people they truly trusted and cared about; even Yugi barely managed to make it in, and he was one of the sweetest people in the world. One of the guards, Bishop, approached with a slushy in each hand. You had interacted with him a few times over the past year, and he was always attentive to people’s needs. Gratefully, you took the proffered neon green concoction, surprised at how sour the drink was; you loved tart foods. Beside you, Mokuba chugged down his own pink slushy, giving himself a brain freeze. “Arrrgh, why doesn’t this happen to you?!” You shrugged, “I eat slowly. It has its perks.” The two of you made your way outside, where the bright sunlight and gentle breeze contrasted with the dim, noisy interior of the arcade building. Continuing to sip on your slushy, you wondered if you had somehow overdone it playing dancing games. You did enough cardio workouts in your daily life that it shouldn’t be negatively affecting you like this, but… You forced yourself to keep walking across the park, sipping at your cold drink and trying to act like you felt fine. “Can we go on the new roller coaster now?” Mokuba interrupted your thoughts. “I haven’t had a chance to ride it since it opened two weeks ago.” He turned to face you, “Woah, are you feeling okay?” “Not really.” Talking caused an unexpected spike of nausea. “I think I need to sit down for a minute, but you can go ahead and ride.” What on earth had you done to yourself back there? Mokuba hesitated. “I’ll be fine. You can ride it again with me before we leave.” There was no way you were going to hold Mokuba back, even in such a small matter.

“If you say so.” Mokuba sounded unsure. As though sensing his boss’s uncertainty, Bishop suggested, “We can leave two of the guards with her, in order to make sure Ms. l/n remains undisturbed while we’re on the ride.” Mokuba nodded, “Good suggestion.” He grinned at you, “See ya later.” With Bishop and one of the other guards in tow, the short teen headed for the waiting line.

Smiling wanly at the two remaining security guards, you walked over to a nearby bench, slowly sitting to avoid roiling your stomach further. You watched as Mokuba and Bishop slipped under a velvet rope blocking off the secondary access line to the coaster and made their way to the front. After seeing the two of them start to enter the next available car with the other park goers, you closed your eyes and let your head sink back, glad to be sitting still and resting.

Listening to the people passing by, the soundtrack for the roller coaster line, and the distant screams of riders enjoying themselves, you relaxed. After a few minutes, you began to feel better, which was just as well, since Mokuba was likely to be bounding up any second now. A couple more minutes passed. It was too quiet. Opening your eyes, you realized the roller coaster wasn’t running. Your eyes traced along its brightly colored path; you didn’t see any cars running on the tracks, only empty cars at the loading station, which weren’t being filled. So the previous cars must still be on the tracks, and since you couldn’t see them, it must have been in one of the covered portions. Groaning, you pushed yourself up and made for the ride. With the two guards at your side, it was easy to make it to the front of the line, where a young woman was trying not to panic as she talked into her intercom. Finishing her call, the ride operator covered her face with her hands, “I’m gonna lose my job…” “What’s wrong?” You asked as you approached, eyes scanning over the ride’s control panel as you spoke. Noticing you and the guards, the young woman tried to straighten up, “Oh, uh, one of the magnetic brake systems completely engaged when it wasn’t supposed to, and now the ride is stopped at the top of the second peak.” She pointed to the relevant part of the ride, which was covered by an outer tunnel, hiding the cars from view. “I’m hardly an expert, but that can be caused by a sensor malfunction causing the security protocols to engage, right?” You wished you knew more about how roller coasters worked. The young woman nodded, “That’s right, but if that happens, I should be able to fix it by restarting the system, and it’s not working!”

A rapidly approaching helicopter almost drowned out your next question, “How long before someone gets out here to fix it?”

“A technician should be here in a couple minutes, but I don’t—” the helicopter was too loud now, drowning out the ride operator’s words. It seemed louder than the Kaiba Corp copters you had been near a few times.

Squelching down your unease, you moved to get a better look at the helicopter, which was unmarked. The copter stopped over the place where you knew the roller coaster cars with Mokuba were stuck, and two men jumped out onto the roof of the tunnel. Was this a rescue operation? Turning to yell to the two guards with you, you saw them motioning to one another in a way that made it clear this was not supposed to be happening. At this angle, it was hard to see what the men from the helicopter were doing, but they appeared to pry a panel off of the tunnel and drop down inside.

More black suited men were arriving at the loading platform now, shouting terse commands and code words you recognized from studying the security protocols last night; this was bad.

Some of the guards began to make their way into out-of-bounds maintenance areas, drawing guns from their suit jackets and preparing to climb steep emergency staircases up towards the place Mokuba was trapped. Caught up in watching the security men, you failed to notice what was happening until the ride operator grabbed you and pointed. Three men were rising from the hole in the tunnel, with a bound but struggling Mokuba in tow.

“Mokuba!!” The helicopter drowned out your cry, as the four figures disappeared inside. The roller coaster cars suddenly started moving again, its passengers’ screams becoming audible as the helicopter began to fly away, rapidly disappearing in the distance.

Leaning back against the side of the control panel, you slid to the ground, your knees almost touching your shoulders. “Mokuba…” This time the word was barely audible, your throat tight as tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

Part 3

#Mokuba Kaiba x Reader #Yu-Gi-Oh #Mokuba Kaiba #Yugioh DM #My content

[influenzalake]

'I love...' (Damian's ver.) Damian Wayne x Reader (pt2!)

The media will always be annoying, but now Damian is acting off too. How do you stop this before it gets too much?

femelle reader, 840 words, enjoy!

- - - 

You had originally given your speech to set things right. To fend OFF the press. Now, they just can't get enough.  

You and Dami have been in the news for weeks straight. 

With shameless photographers at every turn, being hounded by reporters at the most inopportune times, or cameras and microphones shoved in your face- life has become a game of hide and HIDE MORE. The paparazzi have been all OVER you and any other Wayne they can trap in a corner. 

All this suffocating attention seems to be getting to Damian. He's been more quiet for some reason... Like he doesn't know how to act around you anymore. He will stare, then look away when you turn to make eye contact. He keeps his poker face on 24/7 and responds with "Hmm"s and "Hrnn"s. You managed to crack the code by the way, hmm meaning yes and hrnn meaning no, but that's no way to communicate with your partner! You thought it was Bat Business and that it would pass eventually, but nothing changed. You start to worry if it's the overwhelming media... or if it's you.

The wheels start turning in your mind and it lights a fuse you didn't know you had. You thought you made the right decision? Said all the right words? What more could he want? You THINK you know somebody, yet here we are. 

Well. After all this time, you are not going to play some hot-n-cold game with a grown man. After breakfast one day, you grab him by the arm and take him to one of the many study rooms in Wayne Manor. You sit him down, stand a few paces away, arms crossed, and tell him out with it. This behavior is childish and he CAN do better. Damian states into his hands for a while, then he finally looks up and a hurricane of emotions hit like it's the first time seeing his deep green eyes. 

His mouth opens slowly, dry and unsure. 

"Is what you said about me true?        All of it?    Did you mean every word?"

You feel like your heart just went on a rollercoaster and landed back in your chest. Is that what this is about?? All this worrying and he just needed some reassurance??? You feel the need to spite him out for all this cold and standoffish behavior, but as you return to Earth to say your peace you find he is still sitting there waiting for an answer. Damian, master in strategy, is using his most cruel tactic- the puppy dog eyes. The reprimanding... can wait.  

You take a deep breath, just like you did before, and take a seat next to him. 

You take his hands and look right at him. You channel the love in your beating heart, and tell him everything he needs to hear. 

"Yes, every word, but what I didn't tell them is this-"

and you see the color drain from his face. A little bit of karma for the past weeks... but then you continue...

"You were born and abused to dominate, to control without a second thought for others. You were pushed beyond your limits by the League, but you were just a boy. In that same time, you lost everything. You were abandoned and blindsighted. But then chose to pick yourself up and try a different path. You were introduced to another way of life and decided your own actions. You make your own choices, your own right and wrong. You have devoted your life to your family, your father, your city, and the symbol. Gotham sleeps well because you are out every night catching and stopping those who seek to do it harm. Your family is proud to have you fighting alongside them. Bruce, Alfred, your brothers and sisters, they're all proud of you because you are making choices according to your own creed. You honor them everyday by never letting yourself be consumed. With all the darkness in your life and in your past, you still make it through every day. That is your strength. 

 I admire that Damian. I admire the Damian you have become. I know exactly who you are and you know who you are too. All of that brings me even closer to you. I'm proud of you baby, and I love you." 

You go in to end with a little kiss on the cheek, and intend to give Damian some time alone, but as you rise toward his face Damian brings you into a deep hug. You don't see it, but you can feel it. Wet, heavy tears on your shoulder. 

You slowly bring your arms up to return his hug, and you rub his back up and down to settle him. You turn your head and whisper sweet words and more I Love Yous into his ear. He needs this. Your precious Damian. 

#damian wayne #fanfiction #x reader #imagines #batman

[musclemommy17]

the rare Japanese Snowbell

Pairing: Shoto todoroki x genius reader

Syn: Todoroki with a genius lover? and how do they work together as a pair?

Warnings: mind games, slightly gore, talk of a crime scene, stressed reader and a icy hot watching her every move, Cussing, a cute lil fic with Shoto making reader feel better. Most fluff is at the end. I tried to make it a little different from the norms. <3

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

October 17,

The smell of books fills the air as Y/N sits leaning on the desk. Your eyes squinting slightly reading over files. Not bothering to get out your hero suit, you read over the newest crime report. Crime Analytics have always been your favorite. Pictures flashing in your mind as you read looking in the papers. "Y/n love?" Turning around you see a certain half and half man. His mixed color eyes scanning you. "The report isn't due for a week." Todoroki says softly but sternly. Not wanting you too overdo it. "Sorry, but how come the murderer, uses measurements and a math standpoint. Most killers are more into meds and human body parts." You say cringing slightly. Todoroki leans against the wall. "Stop it. Come eat before it gets cold. Bakugo and Denki broke the sink after Denki snuck a snack while Bakugo was cooking." He says in his monotone voice. "Do I want to know?" Your say not bothering to look at him. The scene doesn't make sense. Almost like the body was placed there from a different place. The killer may even have multiple places to commit- "Y/N?" Todoroki interrupt's your thoughts. Seeing him now beside you. "Yea?" You look up at him. "Let's go eat love. You tend to over think without eating." He says half-jokingly. With out another word you guys go and sit down. Everyone jokes and smiles at each other. Class 1-A was a family. A big family. Even hurting each other like siblings. Or bullies. Looking over at Denki with a wrap on his head. And seeing a broken sink in the kitchen. Looking back to see Bakugo's hand wrapped too. Ouch. The girls laugh as mina puts lip-gloss on Denki who is passed out. Feeling as hand on your knee under the table you look to see Shoto looking worried at you. "Zoned out." You say going back to eating. "I was thinking about going to see my mother tomorrow." Shoto says making convo. "I have to go to the crime scene. I hope the lab didn't take everything into testing yet." I say thinking about my soon date with a murder scene.

October 18,

Cold air peaks though your jacket as you had to the house. Yellow tape covers the house. Aizawa talks to an officer as they allow me in. Part of the Crime Analytics class is you studying the scene. Most struggle with this. Wanting to fight. And yes, you can do that too. But chasing and profiling the suspect is your strong suit. Besides being socially awkward and not knowing general keys peoples use on day-to-day activities your flaw has its perks. The photographic memory never failing you on cases. The thrill of studying and picking a suspect's brain as if acting like them in the scenes caused you to get popular with officers. Now going on scenes themselves helping and training. The cold gloves now on your hands you pick up a soaked in blood cloth. Seems torn from something. Putting it in a bag you stand up. "Love?" Turning around Todoroki is inside. gloves on too. "Hey. I didn't want you breaking down." he says knowing about how I can break down overstimulated. "The thigh muscle was missing from her body." I say still thinking. "Okay well then they played doctor?" Todoroki says cringing at the pool of blood. He never liked these things. "No. The killer shows no sign of having medical background." "Well maybe he was trying to learn?" Todoroki says firing back looking at some picture frames. "No. He uses math in his crimes." "He?" Todoroki says turning to you. "It's a male." I say knowingly. Stepping over some blood I look closer at the blood. "He is no doctor. So, he won't be selling the parts. uses math. goes after a type of girl every time." I say mumbling connecting dots. Someone calls Todoroki out of the room leaving you alone. the background buzzes with voices as you focus closer. A knife. He skilled with it. Going after teenage girls. Athletic. All girls do sports. Missing muscles in their body. Showed signs of fighting. These thoughts flood in your head as you walk over to the window. Seeing it clean and looking normal. Way to normal. Everything is dusty showing she hasn't cleaned but the window. But no fingerprints on it. Unless the killer cleaned it off. He knows how to use a knife and math. He knows how to clean up a scene. He uses measurements of drugs to paralyze the girls. how does he know the right amount to use? Feeling someone grab your shoulder you turn quickly. "Um ma'am the scene is closing Aizawa is waiting in the front." The officer says softly.

8:24 pm.

Dropping off some notes to Bakugo you see a new book on his shelf. "Oi. what are you looking at nerd?" Bakugo says looking at him with that annoyed face. "You got a new book?" I say walking over to it. "You need learn how to shut that whole photo memory shit off." He says sitting down turning away from you. The hard cover is cold. Its new. Most liking bought online. "Seasoning for the seasons" A cheesy name on it. Yep, it's a cooking book alright. Your about to put it up when you see measurements on the back. measurements. Opening it shows body parts of beef and where its located. What knifes to use for meats and for different textures. And next. Measurements for cutting the meat. on the back it talks about farmers use for drugs on the animals to make death painless. Taking the book you run out. Bakugo screaming and exploding shit as you run out of the house. Getting in the keys to Todoroki's car you get in. Not bothering to even get out of your pjs you go to back up out of the drive away when a hand slams on the hood. "Y/n, what's wrong?!" Todoroki ask opening the door to the driver's seat trying to stop you. "We have to go. The police. The murder." You mumble shaking as Todoroki pulls you out. Hugging your body, he stops your tossing and turning. "Hey. breathe. Get in the passenger seat I will take you." he says calmly not bothering to ask me more questions. Knowing damn well you don't have your license yet.

9:12 pm.

Sitting in the police station talking to the police. Aizawa lecturing Todoroki for giving in. This isn't the first time I have dragged him along. "The killer eats the girls. We are closely related to pigs. Ribs are soft and tender. Most psychopath's have texture issues such as me, so we like hard meet. Tough pork chops." you breath as the officers look at you crazy. Todoroki standing close beside me protectively. Staring at you with amazement. "He paralyzes the girls like they do in pig slaughterhouses. But he works in a kitchen or even a production line for meats. He knows how to cook the girl's muscles to taste like pork. He uses knifes and is very good with them. But he doesn't have medical experience no he has slaughterhouse experience." You say shaking your body over stimulated. Clues and thoughts going 90 to nothing as everything clicks. The officers take action researching.

11:53 pm.

Todoroki hugs your back. Playing with your hair as you guys lay down. After two panic attacks and Todoroki telling everyone to fuck off as they tried to hug you when you got home, knowing you don't like psychical touch when stressed. Your breathing is calm. All your thoughts drift as Todoroki's tight hold calms you. "You're like a Japanese Snowbell." He says softly. "Those are rare Tho. They are in the family Styracaceous and are trees but considered flowers-" You ramble saying facts that don't make sense on why you would know. "I know." Todoroki had always had his own way of thinking. Never explaining why just always saying his mind. He was a leaving Bold titles while you were a living definition. "You can read 1234 words per minute but when it comes to poetry you stumble." He says kissing your shoulder. "It doesn't make sense to me. I don't like fiction or a challenge of who can write the best rhyming words." You can feel him smile. "Poetry is all you read." u say rolling your eyes. "Maybe because I'm not good explaining myself." He says turning your over slightly to look at him. "Why did you say I am like a Japanese Snowbell?" U ask softly. Shoto smile "until you can understand poetry you won't know." He says challenging you to master another skill. not saying anything your brain ranks though facts about them. maybe it's because you don't like the cold?

12:02 am.

Todoroki smiles hearing you sleeping. Thinking back to how he thought you were even weirder than him when he first saw you the first day of school. Early summer you bloomed. Happy with the nice weather you would sit outside reading multiple books at a fast pace while everyone joked and messed around. How you effortlessly solved hard math equations. He studied you more than the schoolbooks you studied. Noticing your dislike for poetry. Learning how to help with autism and changing little things around the dorm to fit your comfort. Never touching your organized messes of papers and books you have stacked up on your desk. Making a holding for everything you lose and putting a tracking device on your keys and air pods. Everything you lose so he can be your knight and shining armor. He thought you were a rare flower. But your smarts made you as strong as a tree. He thought you were beautiful and rare. Never seen twice. Just like a Japanese Snowbell.

#mha #mha x reader #shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #genius reader #1-A

[georgiapeach30513]

Jen, I have a makeup question for you please. What is your opinion of the pink blurring powders on late middle aged skin for lessening the appearance of marionette lines and pores? Or finishing powder in general? I also don’t like the idea of powder caking in creases or wrinkles, but I still get an oily t-zone unfortunately. Thank you for being the kindest, most generous resource on skin care and makeup. It’s so appreciated. 💕

You're too sweet!! Okay, so I do think that makeup needs to be set. Not all setting is the same. Of course there's different powder formulas, colors, etc. and that can change how it will look on you of course.

The older you get those fine lines start to get bigger. And makeup can tend to look worse, if you're not careful. You want to set foundation/concealer so they don't settle in those lines. I think the older you get the less you need to use.

I LOVE finishing powders. My favorites will forever be Hourglass. They're pricy, but they look beautiful on the skin, and they photograph well, and look good on film. Luminous Light is my favorite for brides.

One of the techniques I use so things don't look too powdery is to use a spray, I will sing MAC Fix+ praises forever. It's like a layering tecnique. Fix+ has glycerin in so it re-hydrates the skin, and takes away that powdery look. I use this on myself and on clients. I have yet to find anything comparable to Fix+, sorry.

Don't get caught on the pink powder and brands trying to create something new. Pink is just a way to brighten up your under eye. You can add a bit of a pink lipstick/liquid lip to your concealer.

I'm also going to attach a video because sometimes it's just easier to see it rather than me typing.

#makeup