#yeah like she did some makeup on her eyebrow and it looks dope as hell

[calypsoff]

Five. Part 2

Stroking my hard dick groaning, I breathed in sharply watching Robyn having a shower, she knows I am watching her, and I did say I was coming in, but I just wanted to watch her, to see how quick I get hard, and it did. I just got hard instantly watching her touch herself. She knows I am here, she ain’t stupid but she is a bad bitch, I don’t mean it in a bad way, but she knows what she is doing, she knows she is sexy and that alone as made my dick so hard. I am so silent with my thoughts because I just want to do so much with her, and she knows it. I think my dick is hard enough now, dragging open the shower glass and stepped inside, closing it behind me and I slipped up behind her and moulded my body to her back, pressing my erection against her. Neither of us said anything, Robyn froze, and my hands rested onto her hips but she moved away from me turning to face me, licking my lips smiling. She hooked her arm around my neck and easily climbed up my body, wrapping her legs around my hips, her tongue hungrily lapping at my neck, and them at my ear. Her chest pressed against me, she feels so wet right now, and not by the hot water beating down on both of us. I leaned in and sucked her lower lip, my finger trailing along her cheek lazily as I smirked “you are so beautiful” I grazed my lips over her neck.

Robyn slowly slid down my body, getting on her knees in front of me, taking my erection into her mouth, I breathed out at the sight, I was not expecting Robyn to do such a thing, but she did. I thrust my hips against her lips and bit my lip again as my hand ran through her long brown hair “damn” I mumbled through heavy lips as she continued to bob her head up and down slowly. Her tongue licked along my dick lazily as she gripped my legs and moaned, her own hand wandering down, between her own legs as she began to rub her own core and look up at me the entire time she was doing this and sucking him off, all with the most innocent of looks on her face. I want to grip her hair and fuck her mouth but I won’t, I will let Robyn do what she needs to do because her mouth feels so good, I feel like she is sucking the life out of me “oh god” closing my eyes.

I feel like a brand new guy, Robyn sucked my dick. I mean I could say Rihanna sucked my dick but that was good, I am happy as hell right now. Robyn is still in the bathroom and I have gotten dressed. I was going to check on her but she came out before I did, I was half off the bed before she came out “hey” I said smiling, she is smiling which is good “hey, I may take some time getting ready, hope you don’t mind. Also you want to go out for some food?” nodding my head “yeah, why not” I grinned “I will go out and give you some space to get dressed, watch some TV” getting up from the bed “tell me something, was I good?” she asked, I didn’t think she would have asked such a thing “good? You were amazing, I didn’t think you had it in you and I certainly didn’t expect you to do it. You are good, why has someone said you bad?” I mean it’s odd she asked “uhm, first time doing it” my eyes widened “for real? Wow, well you got talent and I am impressed, so I did take your virginity somehow” Robyn put her head down smiling “be quiet, go” she is getting shy, I am so shocked that Robyn hasn’t sucked dick before at her big age, I would never say that but I am shocked that she hasn’t, maybe she hasn’t been comfortable with anyone else.

I am so obsessed with Basketball, sucks that this weekend I couldn’t really watch it but I had to catch up, any moment I can do it I will and even replays, I will watch them several times “do I look good?” hearing Robyn’ heels hitting the floor as she appeared from the bedroom “ooohhhh, who is this pretty woman. I like the red lipstick, I love it. Nice outfit” she twirled around in her dress “I like your hair down; I mean I like it up but down like this. I like it, are you ok to go out with me?” Robyn nodded her head “yeah, it’s fine. You’re a friend if they do say anything. I will just say it but I am hungry, so let’s go” turning off the TV as I got up from the couch “you look so beautiful Robyn, I have seen you with and without makeup and I still prefer you without makeup, I have always seen that though. Nothing has changed with me, nice bracelet too” I pointed out “I am going to wear it forever, trust me. I feel like this has to be the best gift I have been given” she is so sweet, modest I would say because I mean she can get better than that.

I think it is dope that Robyn doesn’t need to drive anywhere, an SUV will always be there “so what are you doing for Christmas?” Robyn asked, looking away from the window “mhmmm, well I will be at my parents, spend Christmas with the family, should be nice to have it with them instead of having it with some niggas. Stale ass food” it’s going to be nice “after all that time in there you deserve it, I hope you get all of the gifts you want”  I grinned at her “I am just blessed to be here, I have to be. I am happy that I have reconnected with you though” the SUV started to come to a halt outside some fancy building “we could have gone to McDonalds, you know?” Robyn shook her head “no sir, I want to take you somewhere fancy. You will love it here, promise” getting out of the SUV, the driver ain’t going to open my car door is he so I will just do it myself. The driver did what I thought he would, rushed to Robyn’ car door and opened it. I find it amusing how people rush to Robyn’ aide every time, I mean she is queen, and I am not angry at that. Robyn looked to me, I think checking if I am behind, I am. Robyn walked towards the place. Stuffing my hands in my coat pockets, here I am just in jeans and a tee, I bet I will look odd as hell just there with my broke ass, a guy opened the door for her “madam” he said, looking at him as I waked in “Rihanna, please follow me” the server said to her “I have put you in a private room” like I said, they rush to Robyn’ aide and it’s crazy to see.

Shuffling my seat in, the waiter pushed Robyn chair in. We are in a private room, just Robyn and I which is dope. Looking around the room as I took off my coat, this is kind of amazing “this is fancy” I am amazed “yeah, it’s one of my favourite places here so I thought I would bring you here. Can I have your best wine please” she said to the waiter “do you want anything different to drink?” shaking my head “but can I have water, just will have that” I rather not drink too much, also I dislike wine so there is that “are you sure? Don’t hold back” I chuckled “I am good, just water” I feel so out of place, this is really not my scene but here I am “what are you doing for Christmas and New Year’s?” I asked Robyn, she must be doing something nice “erm, so I will be in Barbados with my family and the New Year I will be going to London to celebrate the new year, I do invite you to come” I cooed out “really? I am good, I will be in Virginia with the boys, TJ will probably be dumb about shit” Robyn squinted her eyes at me “strippers?” I breathed out “I suppose, I don’t care. If I did care then I would say it to you but women’s breasts aren’t a turn on, I mean I am not gay but strippers are just yeah, I like my women classy” Robyn snorted laughing “then where did you get that jumped bitch?” I knew that was coming “could say the same about pretty boy?” I retorted; we can all be petty “you seem a little sensitive about her? You care for her?” shaking my head “she is a good girl, she isn’t bad, but she is there, you know. I can’t disrespect her when she has done nothing wrong. Also we did say we wouldn’t mention them, did we not?” Robyn needs to just drop it, I said we wouldn’t speak on them.

I know Robyn wants to delve into what is next for us but I can’t really say “look” sitting forward “I get you want me to say yes and I jump to you but I just think you need to see it from my part, I don’t really want that life you live, it’s public. You don’t deserve me to ruin that, my past will make you look bad” which is true “why don’t you just say you don’t want me, ok. Answer me this would you give up that life you live now to be with the person you love? So you can be with them because I would” raising an eyebrow “so leave that celebrity life?” I questioned “yes” she didn’t even flinch “I would say that is stupid talk, nobody is worth that” I laughed, I did say I wouldn’t drink wine but I need it, Robyn is digging “answer it” she means it “Robyn I know you doing this to get an answer out of me but you need to just relax” I downed the wine so quick, I don’t even like that shit “I feel like you don’t know what you want, I think you don’t and I just want you to make me feel I am not going crazy Chris, are we fuck buddies or what?” rubbing my face “Robyn I respect you, I really do. I wouldn’t say or class you as a fuck buddy because that is disrespectful, I care for you and I have told you that. I left the apartment early to get that gift for you because I felt bad, I came with nothing for you. What do you want me to say, I have a lot to think about” I swear if I didn’t know Robyn like I do I would walk off, I am taking it because I care for her the most “are you going to leave her?” Robyn never holds back, I have to laugh “well I am not going to play two women so yes, but with work and stuff I don’t know when we can meet again which doesn’t mean I am doing it to not see you” I hope Robyn understands it “well I think I will keep Rakim around” now she is being petty, but I won’t be angry at it “up to you” I shrugged.

I snatched the bill so quickly “just give it here” Robyn held her hand out “no, I got it” opening the wallet with the receipt I died inside a little, I can honestly say the food was not worth my full wage, I am shook but let me keep my composure “Chris, please listen to me. Let me pay it, before the waiter comes back give it here. I bought you here, don’t get me angry” Barry is going to flat out scream to know I used the money he gave me for this “I got it” looking up at Robyn “I didn’t bring you here to flatter me, it’s not. You’re just going to get me angry, give me the damn bill!” she spat “I got it, it’s ok” the waiter came back “I’m paying” Robyn and I both said together “I said I am paying” I said to Robyn and I meant it, she was going to say something but she didn’t. But I really can’t keep with this kind of behaviour, placing my card down. Robyn is so angry, like she is shaking angry “I am going to the toilet” Robyn got up, I mean I am glad she did because now I can sit here and die inside a little more, this is crazy money for wack ass food.

“You know what is going to get you in trouble Chris, your stubborn ass! You are so fucking hard-headed, and you have always been that way since high school!” Robyn spat as she sat back down “you are so egotistical, you don’t have to pay for anything, this was my doing. I bought you here Chris, if you do not let me pay you back I swear we are done, I can’t have us like this. I don’t want to battle you on having to do things. I think we need to just have space; I promise you now Chris we will fall out, let me pay you back. This is unfair on you because I bought you here for me! This is my treat” Robyn and I just stared at each other, one of us need to back down but I wonder who will first “don’t make me feel bad Chris, please! You know what take your bracelet back” watching her unhook it “ok, you can send me the money. Just relax” I don’t want to argue with her “you are so stubborn Chris; I don’t know what will give with you. You do it on your terms, if not then it doesn’t happen” she needs to get used to that part.

#Chrianna FF #Chrianna #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

[thebarrydiariesx]

Alive.

PART EIGHT.

The wee hours of the morning came like a blanket of warmth through Lisa’s apartment. The soft hum of cars outside, the never moving, bulking presence of Barry’s body wrapped around hers and the silence that only a morning can bring. She slowly and carefully turned herself around, trying her best not to wake him. She almost kicked herself under the sheets for the nauseating smile it pulled out of her. There was a still expression of peaceful bliss etched across his sleeping face. His lips were still a little red and bruised from the night before and his five o’ clock shadow framed that sharp face perfectly. She sighed, letting her smile gently fade as she delicately brushed her fingers over his temple. Just then, his eyes popped open and he was met with her gazing at him.

“Hi...” Barry’s voice was gruff yet pleasant. He rubbed his palms over his eyes. “Were you just...?”

“For like a sixty-fourth of a second, calm down.” Lisa shot back smugly. “Do you always suck your thumb?”

Barry brushed off the comment with a laugh, tracing little circles on her shoulder.

“That was...” Barry’s face scrunched slightly and his eyes shifted around the room, desperately searching for the right words. “different... for me.”

“You seemed like a pro to me, pal.” Lisa took his free hand that was nestled under her head and planted soft kisses on his fingertips. “Did you like it?” She looked up through her lashes, trying to pin point his expression.

“Uh, yeah...” He said bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. He moved his hand up to her lips when he noticed how red and bruised they were. He let his gaze fall down to her neck, collar bones and shoulders. He let out a tiny gasp. “Did... did I do that?” His fingers traced across the numerous bruises, bite marks and scratches that lingered there.

“These?” She gestured. “Yeah... yeah, you did.” She looked down to her hacked up chest and chewed her lip, smirking to herself at the memory. She looked up and noticed very quickly the look of dread washing over Barry’s face. “Oh no, no, no!” She almost fell over her words as she placed her palm on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “You didn’t hurt me, Barry, I’m fine. I liked it.” She nodded, hoping to God that he couldn’t see the blush that she could feel now burning her cheeks. “Like.. really, really liked it. Sex hasn’t been anything more than protected work to me for the longest time and...” Her eyes focused on the broken lamp that was now on her bedroom floor. A casualty of the events. She laughed quietly as she looked back to him, her hands combing through his hair. “That was the first time I actually like... let loose and enjoyed myself.” She prodded his nose, hoping the playful charm might calm him down.

“Good.” Barry offered a glowing smile before kissing her softly. The tenderness of his lips and the way his hand was tickling over her back made Lisa want to grip onto his shoulders and go for round two of last night. His mouth opened slowly and the whole tease of the kiss being almost too soft had her melting and sighing sweetly into his body. She was like putty in his hands, his for the taking, and he had no idea.

“I’m gonna take a shower, feel free to hop in after.” Lisa pulled herself away from his arms and looked down to pick up any item of clothing that would cover her. She eyed the black rumpled dress on the floor. “Well, that’s ruined.” She snorted, looking back at Barry who was not-so-discreetly gawking at her body.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Barry yawned, rubbing his hands together awkwardly.

*****

The sweet relief of the hot water over her back pulled Lisa back to Earth. She pressed her back against the shower and let the water spray onto her face, melting off the remnants of makeup that was left. Taking her hands through her hair, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to last night. Barry’s skin on hers, their bodies locked together, his lips on her throat and his cock pounding mercilessly inside her. Over. And over. And over. Lisa popped her eyes open and shook the water from her face, turning herself around and leaning her hands against the tiles and letting the water fall down the back of her neck.

“Fuck...” She whispered. She took a few deep breaths and tried to control herself.

*****

Barry had eventually pulled himself out of Lisa’s bed and put on his boxers and jeans, not before examining his body in the mirror. Even he, big strong Barry, had taken some damage from last night. His lips were bruised, his torso and shoulders were freckled by little nip marks and scratches. He turned around to examine his rather tender back and-

“Shit!” He whispered, eyes like two pinballs, eyebrows nearly hitting his hairline. Down his shoulder blades and back were 8 giant red stripes. He looked at them long and hard before allowing a chuckle to escape him. He roamed the house, having a little nose around before fetching a much needed glass of water and peaking into her fridge whilst she was in the shower.

Pineapple juice. Lots and lots and lots of pineapple juice.

Barry raised a brow and chewed inside his cheek before shrugging and closing it. He admired her home. It was small, slightly cluttered but lived in. Full of books, records and little deer ornaments. His gaze flicked higher to see yet more deer ornaments. He smiled to himself as he began to see her tough exterior, chipping away gently at it with every little deer he saw. He paused for a moment, his eyes catching a thick, pale yellow book on her shelf. Enjoying the quiet peak into her life, he picked it up and examined it:

The Complete Works of Shakespeare

Barry grinned, recollecting a rather snide remark she had made last night. “You little son of a-”

“Barry?” Came Lisa’s muffled voice from the bathroom.

“Y-yeah?” Barry hurriedly placed the book back.

“There’s some towels in my closet, be a diamond and get em’ for me?”

“Sure.”

Barry was sure to knock before entering the bathroom, the redundancy of it tickling his mind.

“Yeah?” Lisa asked a little surprised.

“Towels”

“Well bring them in ya dope.”

Barry was greeted by a waft of steam and the pleasant aroma of peaches and coconuts. Through the frosted glass of her shower, he caught her silhouette. Arms raised in her hair, her back arched and her one visible thigh glistening under the hot water. He swallowed hard.

“Fucking hell.” He whispered only to himself before piping up. “Should I leave them on the countertop here or...?”

“You can leave them there and get out, or...” Lisa’s voice turned silky. “You can come in and join me.” The hot water teamed with the constant re-runs of the night before playing in her mind had rejuvenated her confidence. She paused, her hands through her hair, rinsing the last of her conditioner out, and counted down from three in her head before hearing the towels drop to the floor and the familiar sound of Barry’s belt buckle coming undone. She smiled triumphantly and turned to meet her very welcome intruder. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t hide her excitement seeing Barry’s naked form climb into her shower and tower over her once again. His hair slick from the steam, his sharp cheek bones perfectly complimenting the longing look in his eyes and his overwhelming body almost making her knees buckle. She could see Barry searching for something to say but prematurely silenced him by reaching up on her tip toes and kissing him slowly, reaching her hand around to the back of his neck. He responded almost immediately this time by grabbing her face in and deepening the kiss with his tongue.

“Okay can I just say,” Lisa pulled away momentarily. “For someone who claims this is ‘different’ for him, you’re ridiculously good with your tongue. Like it’s almost rude.” She smirked as he said nothing and pulled her back onto his mouth, desperate to taste her again. He walked her slowly to the back of the shower, feeling the hot water lick his skin. It sent shivers through his body, propelling his intensity and he pushed her against the tiles and kissed her. Hard. The water poured over the both of them as their hands desperately clawed at each other, seeking pleasure in any form. Barry took his hands from her face finally and teasingly ran his fingers down her throat whilst his other hand playfully wandered down her torso and very quickly slid between her folds. Lisa gasped into his mouth, trying with all of her might to regain composure, an impossible feat with his keen tongue working slow, sensual magic in her mouth and his hands in two places that could cause her to implode in seconds. Unable to hold back the gates of her arousal, she moaned, signalling him to squeeze harder. And squeeze harder he did. Barry pulled his mouth off of hers for as long as he could manage. His eyes were wide and wild, his hand wrapped around her delicate neck and his other now slowly pushing two fingers inside her, tilting his head and taking in the sight of her; growling lowly at this woman coming undone in front of him. Seconds. All it took was a few seconds and that lust-filled pit in Barry’s stomach rose again, aching for the sounds she made and craving her submission. He leaned into her face, his breath hot and heavy as he looked into her heavy-lidded eyes.

“I wanna make you cum again, okay?” He growled in her ear, nibbling at her lobe before claiming her mouth in a quick, aggressive kiss.

Lisa’s lip quivered, and her breath stuttered in her throat as his grip there intensified and his fingers rammed in and out of her, curling into that very sensitive spot every so often. She gave an almighty whimper when he inserted a third finger and began to pound them relentlessly into her. She couldn’t speak or breathe all that much, but the sensory overload was becoming too much and her whimpers became shrieks very quickly. Her hands found his shoulders, and she dragged her nails hastily down his back like before, trying to regain some control but Barry was in her ear again.

“Yeah?” He moaned in her ear, taken over by his own crippling lust. He closed his eyes, taking in her sounds as he edged closer to her ear and placed opened mouth kisses on her neck just above his hand. “Yeah, is that where you like it? Right there, hm?” He quickly ripped his hand away from Lisa’s neck and began pumping ferociously at his throbbing cock as he moved his body in closer to her. Lisa could only nod, feeling his cock pulsing and rubbing against her clit. “Are you gonna cum for me?” He whispered in her ear, hissing in ecstasy as he desperately curled and rutted his fingers inside her and stroked his cock. He sealed the very much rhetorical question by grazing his teeth along her neck before settling on her sensitive spot and giving a slow and hard bite.

He felt her completely fall apart in his hands, her loud moans in his ear, her hot breath now falling over his shoulders as her head dipped there and her little legs shook uncontrollably as she breathed through her orgasm.

Lisa looked up through her lashes finally and saw that Barry’s eyes were heavy, his chest and face were flushed and the veins in his forearms were now more visible; not to mention his rock hard cock now teasing her very sensitive clit. She barely had time to steal a wet kiss before he was spinning her around and pressing her front against the cooling tiles. Her mind could barely process what was happening. It was fast, it was hard and it was overwhelming but her body begged for more. He grabbed a fistful of her wet hair and hauled it back, planting a very soft kiss on her forehead before slamming his cock into her aching wetness. Lisa screamed in sheer bliss when she felt his considerable size fill her up, resting her head back into Barry’s chest as his lips made a bee-line for her shoulder, biting down hard this time. Barry squeezed his eyes shut and had to stop abruptly as soon as he entered her in fear that he would cum immediately. This had been pent up inside for too long and he had somebody who not only wanted and liked to be on the receiving end, but almost celebrated it. He could feel her grinding her ass back and forth, pleading for more, her head leaning on his chest for support more than anything. He pushed further, placing the entire front of her body on the tiles now.

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good...” He murmured against her ear and he picked up the pace, grinding his cock inside her, slamming that sensitive spot inside her over and over again.

“Oh God...” Lisa was now shuddering with delight, not even recognising her own voice. She tilted her head up, feeling the water pour on her face but nothing could sober her up from this moment. “Fuck... Barry, yes, right there right fucking there- yes!”

His rhythm got faster and harder, both of them nearing the edge. He gripped her hair harder and used his other hand to grip her hips, slowly licking his way up her neck before applying pressure again with his teeth. He shuddered and moaned at the noises it elicited from her. Lisa stood there and took this. She felt exhilarated, drunk, high, out of her body, on another planet but mostly, she felt free. She moved one of her hands from the tiles down to her clit and rubbed quick little circles there, almost keeling over in the process, stifling yet another moan. Her stomach tightened again and she knew she was close.

“Cum with me, Lisa...” Barry begged in her ear, drawing out long hot breaths as he fucked her faster and faster.

They both shuddered and gripped at each other in a frantic state as Lisa came apart against his chest again, leaning back and looking up at him. His jaw clenched and his face suddenly coming down to kiss her, he unleashed a breathy growl and unloaded inside of her, loosening his grip on her hair and hips and leaning against her, planting sloppy little kisses over her face while he slowed down his pace. For a while they both stood there, entwined in one another against the cold, refreshing tiles. Once Lisa could regulate her breathing once more, she turned around and pecked him on the lips, smiling widely at this man who had surprised her. Again.

“What spurred that on?” She chuckled, stroking Barry’s wet hair that was now sticking to his forehead and staring into those screaming blue eyes.

“We didn’t die. I’m celebrating.” He beamed, moving her hair out of her eyes and cupping her face.

Lisa had definitely, completely and utterly, forgotten that that was the main reason Barry had come over. To save her, and he had done successfully. Again. She didn’t quite understand how and she didn’t know how long she was in danger or how long she would have to play house for, but she did not allow those thoughts to cloud this moment.

“Oh yeah,” She murmured against his lips. “To being alive.”

“Being alive.” Barry repeated, wrapping his arms around her little frame and enjoying the moment of bliss as the warm water enveloped them.

#bill hader smut #barry berkman #barry hbo #barryimagine #barry fanfiction #smutty #barry berkman smut

[woahajimes]

guys ive had the weirdest dreams ever like three days in a row

#day one i dreamt i was getting married to this random guy i met on omegle #i had never seen him out of like omegle but he was uber rich and sending me money #later i found out that i was like pregnatn #from the guy i had only seen thru a screen #BUT HE WASNT EVEN CUTE #LIKE IN MY DREAM I WAS MY AGE BUT HE WAS LIKE 30??? tf #anywayas i was pregnant. and the fucking thing was like immediately??? like one second i was fine and then it like. INFLATED. like #a fucking muffin or shit #MY SECOND DREAM #was that i was in high school but with my aunts #like theyre old enough to be my cousins so i call them cousins #BUT ANYWAYS i was in hihgh school with them and it was pride month and we weren't related in my dream tho but one of them came out as bi #yeah like she did some makeup on her eyebrow and it looks dope as hell #third dream was like a redo of the urban legends timber date. they had met in a park i think? some event or shit #but it played the SAMEEE as their first meeting back in the 90s or so #and then bernard was like inspecting tim again (after all those years) #and then he was like ''well grasshopper it looks like you don't belong with any of these people'' #and then bernard told tim ''you belong with me'' #and like??? thats so fucking cheesy but i want it in a fic

[harryandmolly]

The Long Way Home -4-

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, alcohol and drug use, Incredibly Awkward Flirting

word count: 4.6k ish

Emma’s never seen Shawn’s dressing room door shut before.

She’s sure it is sometimes and she tries not to think about what happens inside when it is because her brain presents her with images like ones she sees on Tumblr occasionally – hard muscle woven under soft pale skin all over his body. The mental image actually makes her mouth water a little.

She wriggles uncomfortably and looks around for the umpteenth time. The venue in Leeds is quiet, given that it’s too early for anyone to be soundchecking. There are no crew members racing around with lighting and sound equipment, no guitars being swung past her while she stands outside the dressing room door like a dope.

It’s been at least five minutes. She swore she’d knock when her heartrate calmed but it hasn’t done it yet so she’s waiting it out in vain. She can’t decide if her headache is genuine or caused by how tightly her hair is bound up in its top knot but it’s certainly not helping her right now. She taps the sole of her open-toed booties on the ground, checking her surroundings again. No one can witness how pathetic this is if she can help it.

Finally, she does it, almost without meaning to. It’s like her hand lost patience with her brain and knocked on its own. She wants to scold it but she doesn’t need to look any more ridiculous than she already does so she lowers her hand and waits, holding her breath.

Shawn swings the door open and she’s a lot closer to him than she meant to be. He’s towering over her and has to look down to find her. It’s comical, actually, the way he looks out when he emerges as though he’s expecting someone to be at his eye level. He should be used to looking down at people by now.

He’s reasonably startled to see her. His eyebrows lift briefly before his face rights itself. “Hey, Emma,” he coughs.

Her mouth flattens into her perfectly trained flat-line smile. “Hi, Shawn.”

He steps aside to let her in. She gets a whiff of his cologne as she strolls past, locking her hands behind her like she’s inspecting the place. She wiggles her nose and whispers, “You smell nice.”

Now Shawn is floored. He’s openly staring at her. “Thank you.”

She’s not looking at him, instead running her eyes over every object in the room, memorizing. She wonders what’s on his rider. She’s too shy to ask. He’s waiting for her to speak, to explain this bizarre visit. She runs her tongue over her lower lip.

“Excited for tonight?” she tries. She wants to smack herself. She goes a little red in the face and angles her head even further away from him so he can’t see her pained expression.

“Mhmm, yeah, the U.K. crowds are always really great. Leeds especially,” Shawn replies weakly.

Emma nods and it’s clear she didn’t listen to the content of his answer. She’s trying to think of the next thing to say. Shawn isn’t about to break the silence – he’s too curious about the purpose of this venture. He can’t interrupt whatever’s going on, he just has to observe and take mental notes. He props himself on the arm of the couch and continues staring at her.

“Clubbing was fun the other night,” she says under her breath. He has to strain to hear her. Nothing about Emma is quiet except her voice. It’s one on the list of many tiny things he’s noticed about her.

Something in Shawn… snaps a little. He doesn’t mean for it to but he’s tense as hell and he’s been sitting on this weird jealousy for a few days now without the chance to acknowledge it.

“Yeah, you left early, though,” he comments, his voice a little too loud compared to her whispering. She forgets herself for a moment and turns her head to look at him curiously. She’s across the room standing in front of his guitar on a table but he can feel the heat of her gaze as if she’s standing a foot from him.

“I did,” she murmurs, waiting to see where he’ll go with this, if anywhere.

“Did you have fun? After you left?”

Her eyes feel like they’re bugging out of her head. Does he even know what he’s asking her? How the hell is she supposed to answer that? Is this supposed to be some weird bonding thing, like locker room talk? She’s never been in a locker room in her fucking life but she thinks that kind of banter doesn’t have this edge to it.

“I mean… I guess so,” she answers blankly, eyebrows furrowing a little.

Shawn isn’t satisfied with this answer. He’s not sure what would’ve satisfied him. No, because he wasn’t you. Maybe that would’ve done it.

He nods and turns his head to stare at the floor. He can’t look at her anymore right now. He’s actually a little afraid he’ll start crying frustrated tears. Maybe if he doesn’t look at her she’ll just leave.

But now Emma’s dying of curiosity. What the hell is this about? I mean, she saw the look on his face when she was dancing with that guy at Sound Control but she didn’t think it actually meant anything. Now she’s wondering… could it have?

Emma’s heart races faster than it has all morning. She doesn’t say anything else as she snaps an artfully angled photo of his guitar and posts it to Instagram, tagging him with the caption, “so stoked for Leeds tonight with my friend @shawnmendes!”

She leaves the room without another word, panting as she strides away. This is why she doesn’t hang out in people’s dressing rooms.

+

Shawn’s heavily distracted for the rest of the day. He admits he doesn’t know what came over him. He’s never really been a jealous or possessive guy. Emma doesn’t owe him shit. She can dance with and fuck whomever she chooses. And he can and should have nothing to say about it.

He elects not to tell anyone about her visit. He doesn’t know what he’d say anyway. That couldn’t be explained. Plus, he’s a little embarrassed – not of his vulnerability with her but of his reaction to her leaving with someone that wasn’t him.

Instead, his head is in the clouds. He gets like this when he’s working on a song sometimes so no one around him bothers to question it, assuming he’s lost in his work. Maybe he should start to try to write this out, maybe that would help him make some sense of it. Or at the very least expend some of this nervous energy he finds himself bottling up.

He doesn’t stick around to watch her set that night. He thinks watching her play his favorite instrument and hearing her sing what’s becoming his favorite song would do him more harm than good right now. In fact, he actively avoids her through the Dublin and first two London shows. The only time he sees her is on Instagram when he’s lying on top of his hotel bed at 2am. She posts from a bar in Marylebone with a few hipster looking friends. She looks genuinely happy to be with them and he finds it soothes him a little. He doesn’t know where the hell he gets off being relaxed by Emma enjoying herself but it’s there inside him nonetheless.

He wakes up the next morning on their day off and goes straight for the gym in the hotel. He puts headphones in and gets to live in a world, at least for an hour, where Emma Kingston doesn’t exist.

But it doesn’t last long. He’s walking back up to his room through the lobby when a woman streaks past him, long legs carrying her toward the doors. He turns to look at what she’s sprinting for and sees her wrap herself around a petite giggling brunette. He smiles at the affection and makes to turn away when he sees something in the brunette’s face he recognizes.

She’s a younger, less done up Emma. He absently wonders if all the women in the Kingston family have the exact same face, because that’s how it seems to him. This girl is beautiful, slim and long-legged like her sister with medium length mousy brown hair and bright green eyes. Something about her face just makes him smile.

He didn’t know Emma even had a younger sister. He flips through his mental scroll of her Instagram, looking for a memory of her and coming up blank. Maybe her family wants to keep her out of the spotlight? Seems unlikely, given how much Mrs. Kingston seems to chase it. Shawn angles himself behind a column to continue watching them.

Emma’s hair is wet and falling like damp straw down her back over a baggy sweatshirt. His jaw tightens when she turns and wraps an arm around her sister’s shoulders, walking her back to the elevators. He’s never seen Emma without makeup – not on Instagram and certainly not in person.

She has so many sweet little freckles on the apples of her cheeks that are normally caked down by make-up. And she’s wearing a little diamond stud in her nose he’s sure isn’t usually there. He’s fascinated. He wants to walk right up and cup her face in his hands and study it. Instead, as they’re passing, he steps further behind the column like a creeper and hides. Emma’s quiet voice doesn’t carry so he can’t hear what they’re talking about. He emerges when the elevators ding and he’s sure they’re gone. He takes the stairs just to be safe.

He spends all fucking day thinking about them. He goes out and sightsees with some of the team – they take a boat down the Thames and have lunch at Pieminister and spend the afternoon pub hopping. Shawn desperately refreshes Instagram every fifteen minutes looking for evidence of Emma’s day. She usually records it in great detail. Today… nothing.

Late that evening, Shawn is lying on his bed plucking at his guitar mindlessly. He wants to write but nothing’s coming. He swings his feet to bang his heels against the wooden bedframe. He stops when he hears a loud, girlish cackle heading down the hallway. It’s surrounded by adoring giggling. He’s not sure how but he knows it’s them so he stands and shuffles to the door, plugging his eye up against the peephole. He decides to hate himself for this weird behavior later.

Emma looks more like the version of her he recognizes, but the slightly more casual version. She looks like a Calvin Klein loungewear ad in a loose sweatsuit. Her arm is still around her sister but she’s holding a bag in her other hand. Shawn squints at it to get a clue about their day.

His knees almost buckle when he reads the bag.

Warner Bros. Studios Tour London - The Making of Harry Potter

His face goes so red he can actually feel the blush creeping up his neck and ears.

Maybe she just took her sister to be nice. Maybe she doesn’t give two shits about Harry Potter or Hogwarts or the notebook of spells he wrote that he still keeps under his bed in his parents’ house.

That has to be it. He can’t picture her as a Harry Potter fan. He can’t picture her as a fan of anything. The only thing he’s seen her enjoy is an Englishman’s hand sliding up her thigh. This thought somehow calms him. If Emma can’t be a Harry Potter fan, he can’t get any deeper into this… thing than he already is.

Determined to shove his head in the sand, he turns out his light and strips off his gray sweatpants to crawl into bed. When he closes his eyes, he sees Emma’s head on Hermione Granger’s body and groans.

+

For the second time in a week, Emma finds herself fidgeting outside Shawn’s dressing room. This time, the fidgets are enhanced by her sister Georgie’s skinny fingers relentlessly poking her ribcage.

“I may never forgive you for this, I hope you can live with that,” Emma snarls. Georgie pops out from behind her, seemingly unfazed that her idol is behind the door. Emma doesn’t know where Georgie got all her easy self-assurance. She’s 16, she’s supposed to be a total wreck.

Maybe Georgie got all the good personality genes and Emma got all the performance genes. It would explain a lot.

“You’re so dramatic,” Georgie teases, her voice light and loud compared to Emma’s. She raises a dainty fist to knock at the door.

Once again, there’s Shawn looking over their heads for a giant much like himself. He lowers his gaze and blanches a little at the sight of Emma. She wants to throw a rib into Georgie’s side and mutter “I TOLD you he hates me.” She resists.

“Hi, Shawn,” Georgie offers, reaching her hand out and smiling in a way Emma doesn’t anymore. Shawn blinks at her for a second before he remembers to put his hand out, “I’m Georgie, I’m Emma’s little sister.”

“Hey,” Shawn murmurs, seemingly studying Georgie closely. Emma’s used to that. People that spend a lot of time around Emma and her mother are naturally fascinated by Georgie. She can see the how did she get like that? all over their faces. Shawn is no exception.

Shawn steps aside to let them in. He’s alone again but this time there’s a guitar on the couch and a notebook with a leaky blue ballpoint pen on the Ikea coffee table. Shawn takes two big steps to close it and look at them bashfully. “I’m… working on a song. Not done yet.”

Emma raises her eyebrows, lips pulled in at the corners disapprovingly. Georgie smiles and tilts her head. “Sounds great! I really love your new album by the way. Well, not new now, but newest, I guess. I think my favorite is “Nervous.” My sister’s favorite is “Particular Taste” though. She dances to it a lot when we’re FaceTiming.”

Shawn sees a facial expression on Emma for the first time in days. She looks mortified. He actually sees color in her cheeks that doesn’t come from a NARS Multiple Orgasm multistick. It sets stupid, useless butterflies loose in his gut. He grins.

“Yeah?” He points the question at Emma. Georgie looks at her, too.

“Yeah,” Emma replies dryly, “Issa bop!”

It’s a reference to the text he sent her when “Fireheart” premiered. His jaw nearly drops to the floor. Emma Kingston just cracked a joke. A sexy, sarcastic joke meant to tease him. The butterflies multiply.

Georgie laughs airily like she’s never felt pain in her life. She wanders around the room not unlike Emma did the other day. But unlike Emma, her energy is scattered and she’s running her mouth, asking Shawn questions and complimenting his music and, for some reason Emma can’t fathom, telling him a story about a turtle they owned when Georgie was in 4th grade.

Shawn is tickled pink. Georgie could be any of the thousands of his teenage fans he’s had the pleasure of meeting over the years but she’s a lot less anxious than they usually are. She asks thoughtful questions about his music and songwriting. She confesses she isn’t musical but uses every opportunity she gets, and manufactures a few clumsily but sweetly, to mention Emma’s musical talent.

Shawn has a little sister of his own so he knows all the tricks. Georgie is trying to Parent Trap them. It’s very sweet and he’s going to let it go on for a little while because she’s subtle enough that neither he nor Emma seem to be acutely uncomfortable.

That’s something he notices, actually. Emma doesn’t look uncomfortable at all. He’s never seen her look quite so relaxed. She’s slouched on his couch with her feet up watching her sister with an adoring smile. Shawn marvels at it. She’s so fucking beautiful when she’s smiling like that. The stupid, evil butterflies are rioting.

Georgie finally settles between them on the sofa and looks for a new topic she hasn’t already exhausted in her last fifteen minutes of near constant endearing yammering.

“My sister and I did the Harry Potter Studio Tour yesterday.”

That’s another thing he catches – not once has he heard Georgie refer to Emma by her name. She persistently calls her her sister like she’s afraid people will forget and she wants everyone to remember. Pride glows through the word “sister” and makes the word float around the room. To Georgie, Emma’s title might as well be “goddess.”

“Oh yeah?” he chokes, reaching for his water bottle.

Georgie nods eagerly, glancing at Emma for confirmation. Emma’s still smiling a little sleepily. He doesn’t blame her. If Aaliyah had that much energy, he’d be exhausted too. She doesn’t look even remotely annoyed, though.

“Yeah. Have you done that? You love Harry Potter, right? It’s like, your favorite thing,” Georgie rants.

Suddenly, Emma’s face turns back to mortified. She shifts her gaze quickly between Georgie and Shawn, waiting for his answer.

Finally, Shawn gets it. This “Parent Trap” had an angle. Georgie was the one holding the cards. By the look on Emma’s face, he can guess she has no idea Shawn is a Harry Potter fan. And now Shawn has his confirmation that Emma has a heart and that J.K. Rowling owns it.

“I love Harry Potter,” Shawn confirms through a little smirk. He’s really enjoying seeing Emma so flustered over this revelation. He’s pretty sure this is what he looked like in his hotel room last night after seeing the Warner Brothers bag. The playing field is officially even.

Shawn tests the waters. He looks from Georgie’s shining face to Emma, who’s still recovering.

“What house are you?”

Emma swallows. No one’s ever asked her this before. She doesn’t have an Emma Kingston answer prepared. So she slips, just for a moment, and gives an Emma answer instead.

“I’m a Ravenclaw.”

His heart almost stops. He licks his lips and grips his water bottle tighter. He feels Georgie’s hot gaze flicking back and forth between them.

“Cool,” Shawn chokes, completely unable to actually be cool.

Georgie looks like the Cheshire fucking cat. Emma wants to smack her. She feels her cheeks going red and shakes her head down at her bare knees poking through the deliberate holes in her jeans. She giggles. Shawn giggles back.

Georgie leans back on the couch looking very satisfied. She continues chattering until people start filtering in around them as soundcheck nears. Slowly but surely, Shawn watches Emma descend back into Emma Kingston, back into her gold-plated suit of armor. He wants to chase after her and scream. He’s not ready to let her go yet.

His eyes are unapologetically fixed on her face. He finds himself leaning his elbows on his knees like he’s ready to leap after her if she tries to leave.

The moment comes. Emma stands abruptly, awkwardly, the way Shawn is used to seeing. The transformation is complete.

“G, we gotta go,” she almost whispers. Georgie’s face, for the first time since Shawn’s seen her, falters. She knows, obviously, that her sister is two different people in one body. He wonders if she knows she may be the only one with the spell to bring the real Emma out. Maybe she can teach him how, he thinks desperately, hands twitching at his sides as he walks them just a few feet to the dressing room door.

He gives Georgie a hug and takes a selfie with her. The picture is cute – it’s badly angled and a little blurry. Georgie hasn’t had as much practice as Emma. It makes him smile. He tells her he hopes she enjoys the show and, before she walks out, scrambles to find her a guitar pick. She holds it between the fingers of both hands like it’s Holy Communion. She makes him laugh.

Emma spares him a glance over her shoulder as she types rapid-fire on her phone. He sees the mental image he has of her mother for a moment. It makes him indescribably sad.

He lets himself watch her set again that night. It’s better than usual, a little more lifelike. She throws an extra vocal run in on “How I’ve Been” and he knows it’s for Georgie. If he weren’t such a dork, he would’ve liked to have found Georgie to watch the set with her. He bets that’s the way to watch an Emma Kingston show – next to her biggest fan.

+

Emma feels her phone buzz again and rolls over, grumbling into her memory foam pillow. She’s on the right side of the bed again.

Emma: You woke me up! Time zones are a thing, Shawn!

The typing bubbles pop up immediately. They disappear. She giggles and bites her lower lip. The bubbles return.

Shawn: Fuck, you’re in LA. I forgot. When did you get back?

Emma: Wednesday. My bed is glorious. Sleep is glorious. And you’ve stolen it from me.

Shawn: Sorry

He inserts a cheesy smiley face emoji to make her laugh.

It’s 6am LA time on June 2nd. They’ve been on a break from tour for six weeks. This isn’t the first day during that stretch that Emma has woken up smiling with a text (or several) from Shawn.

Emma and Georgie got on a red eye from Heathrow as soon as the last O2 show was over. Shawn didn’t get to say goodbye. He was shipped off to meetings in New York. In the cab on the way to the Universal-Island building, he’s flipping his phone around in his broad palm. He suddenly stops and opens a new message.

Shawn: Did Georgie like the show?

Emma, jetlagged to hell in her bed with the blackout shades pulled and Georgie snoring at her side, rolls over to check her phone. She almost drops it. She stares at the message for a good two minutes before she types.

Emma: Loved it. Ruin always makes her cry

That wasn’t what Shawn meant, he actually was talking about whether Georgie enjoyed seeing her set live for the first time but he’ll take it. He wonders if this means Emma watched his set for once.

Shawn: Did you watch with her?

The typing bubbles come up and down. Then up, then down again.

Emma: Sorry, I had a call about my video. Georgie filled me in after.

Shawn tries not to pout but he’s exhausted so it doesn’t really work. When he leaves his meetings a couple hours later in search of pizza and Manhattan friends, he checks his phone again.

Emma: So are you in New York?

He doesn’t know how she knows that and he can’t pretend to have the energy to care because she just took an interest in his life and his heart is thrumming in his chest. He tries not to giggle when he responds but he’s too tired to keep the goofy smile off his face. Andrew notices and chuckles without questioning it. He knows Shawn’s “texting a pretty girl” face when he sees it.

Shawn takes his opening. He responds in the affirmative and asks her for pizza place recommendations even after he’s eating a slice of his own. She replies with a whole host of options all over the island of Manhattan and a few in Brooklyn. Turns out she really likes pizza.

Things continue on that way for a while with a gradual increase in texts until the first thing each of them does in the morning is check their phones and the last thing they do at night is send a goodnight text, no matter where they are.

They’re friends, Emma is somewhat proud to say, though she hasn’t actually told anyone. She doesn’t need the look her mother would give her if she knew.

Boys are not for friends, Emma Jean, she’d drawl in that bayou accent that gets stronger when they’re home in California and she’s not in meetings and in front of cameras all day. Boys are for kissing and for networking.

She hasn’t told Georgie either. Georgie would get too excited and Emma has no idea how long she can sustain this. For one thing, Shawn might get bored now that she’s let her guard down a little and lost some of her mystery. For another, if anyone on her team finds out that she’s being herself with someone that isn’t Georgie or her parents, there would be A Talk.

It’s not that Emma’s mother Sandra doesn’t want Emma to have friends. Sandra loves Ashley Jackson – Ashley is great PR. But they’ve all worked so hard on Emma’s image, on her career, to have her becoming some goofily sincere Jennifer Lawrence-type. She’s here to work, not to play. She can play later when the work is done.

So Emma keeps her head down. She’s been trained up like a show pony since she was a child so her face gives away nothing when she sends and receives texts. No one even bothers to ask who she’s talking to. It’s expected for a celebrity to be on their phone 24/7 anyway.

It’ll be harder when they’re on tour. How does she go from texting Shawn 14 hours a day to being his friend in person? And how does she navigate that with The Wizard of Oz (mom) and that weird guy with the mustache who asked for the horse of a different color (Margaret)?

Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she ends this all now before it’s out of control, she thinks as she kicks her carry on under the seat in front of her. She straps in to her first class seat on the flight to Oregon for the first show back on the North American leg of the tour. She gives the idea some more thought before Margaret hands her a sleeping pill and a glass of chardonnay because the one pill didn’t work as well last time and even though it says you’re not supposed to drink alcohol with them, it’s really fine, Margaret tells her.

Emma is almost unconscious in her dressing room when she’s awakened by a knock. Margaret and Sandra left her there to nap while they took a call about tour merch, so she’s alone and wrapped in a blanket.

She throws off the fleece and stumbles to the door, wrenching it open, squinting because she hasn’t put her contacts in yet.

Shawn is standing on the other side of the door in sweats and a Hogwarts hoodie. The hood is pulled up, flattening his curls to his forehead. His hands are in his front pocket. He’s giving her that close-lipped smile she loves.

“Hey, Em.”

Emma props herself up on her toes and latches her arms around his neck, squeezing him into a hug. He takes a few seconds too long to react, lacing his fingers around her back gently. He sees a bleariness in her eyes for the brief fraction of a second before she buried her face in his neck. It makes him nervous because he can’t tell if she’s just tired or if she’s taken something.

“Shawn,” she hums. The sound reverberates off his throat and lights up his whole body. The way she says it has relief in the very utterance of the word. He holds her a little tighter.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, unsure of what she needs from him right now but willing to give her whatever it is, “I’ve got you.”

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia @carlaimberlain  @abigfatmess @rosecolouredtimes @heavenly---holland

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic

[hellyeahrpmemes]

※ JENNA MARBLES SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. VI ※

here’s sentences from 10 more of jenna’s videos! feel free to change names/pronouns/zodiac signs/etc.! more jenna sentences

REVIEWING BAD APPS 3

“All I did was download them and giggle.”

“What I like about this game is that there’s a lot of depth to it.”

“No, you’re dead.”

“I’m out, I’m out, I’m out.”

“I love how all of this works.”

“This is too stressful.”

“I’m over it, nope, I’m done.”

“I wouldn’t get you that for a ring. That’s an ugly ass ring.”

“This is getting dark.”

“It won’t let you say no!”

“It costs 99 cents to figure out how to build sexual tension.”

“Don’t talk about your problems, you fucking slouch.”

“I paid 99 cents for that.”

“Excuse me, I’m learning here.”

“I paid 99 cents so you knew how to get sex.”

“Ew, this is nasty.”

“This whole thing is extra.”

“She’s not having it, this is wrong.”

“Oh my god, this is so uncomfortable.”

“I’m learning so much today.”

“Is he asleep?”

“I have glasses, I can’t.”

“Oh my god, it’s real.”

“If you’re in the car with your parents, this is infuriating.”

“Yo, Uber, pass me the aux cord.”

“That was 99/10. That was a great app.”

“How to get unfriended in one day.”

“This app fucking rules.”

“It’s kinda relaxing.”

“Okay, can we give this a rest, now?”

“You paid for this.”

“This is pretty fun.”

“Oh my god, I want to die.”

“As angry as it makes me sometimes, I do like it.”

MY BOYFRIEND DOES MY VOICEOVER

“Please don’t listen to anything he says, it’s all garbage. It’s all lies and garbage.”

“You can eat the ball of foam when you’re done.”

“There’s no calories, so it’s good.”

“This works if you put it directly in your eye for enhanced night vision.”

“I prefer a Sharpie, but we were out of Sharpies, so I used makeup.”

“I think it’s working. I kinda wish it would just be done.”

“Are we done with the eyebrows yet?”

“This is art, people.”

“I’m doing the underneath part, which is getting dangerously close to my eyeballs.”

“If you were a really bad kid and you always drew on tablecloths, you’re gonna be really good at this.”

“Oh, I hate this part.”

“We are literally making up our eyeball.”

“This is easily the worst thing ever in the world.”

“Look how messy I am.”

“I wanna kiss myself.”

“The word contour comes from an ancient myth about centaurs.”

“We can fool people.”

“Makeup is a good, deceitful trick, people.”

“Okay, so now I have some cheese.”

“Shut up…!”

“I hate this.”

“I think we’re highlighting.”

“This is only available in Ukraine, and I flew there once to get it.”

“This is a great way to cool off.”

“Oh, okay, that’s it. Thank you guys, bye.”

THOUGHTS FROM A COUCH

“I wanna lay on my couch in this blanket.”

“Repeat after me. The president is not my daddy. He cannot just spank me whenever he feels like it.”

“I think we need to abandon this mission to Mars business. It’s been a long time, and it’s not gonna happen.”

“I say we start terraforming Saturn.”

“When you look up in the sky, you can see rings. Tight.”

“If everybody donated the ends of their loaves of bread a week, we could feed a lot of hungry people. Especially if they’re hungry for shitty sandwiches.”

“You asked for this.”

“Maybe a simple solution is don’t get your news from Facebook.”

“I know what billionaires want, and it’s Tom.”

“I think the punishment for mistreating animals should be being thrown into a pit of gorillas.”

“Too soon? Too late.”

“We could get rid of rush hour by making half the population nocturnal. Half the people work regular hours, half the people work Batman hours.”

“What is armpit hair for? What is it for?”

“Think about that. That’s an impressive statistic.”

“Drums should be called bangs, and bangs should be called regret.”

“Why does the government get to tell me how many dogs I’m allowed to have?”

“Do I look like someone who lies?”

MY DOGS’ WEDDING

“Today seems like the perfect day to just bring everybody together with some love.”

“We need some love right now.”

“I mean, that’s pretty, right?”

“I’m not here to judge them.”

“Time is of the essence.”

“It just feels like the right thing to do.”

“I mean, this is looking pretty dope.”

“Wow, you look fucking nice.”

“It’s not very good, but I do know the basics of it.”

“I mean, it’s pretty cute.”

“I’m hoping that it looks right.”

“Today’s the day, baby girl. You’re getting married.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You’re gonna remember today forever. Or you might forget it. But it’s important.”

“I know, you’re so excited.”

“Wow, you did it.”

“I’m so excited for you.”

“I mean, that’s really it.”

“This is what I did with my time today.”

P*SSY GRABBING SELF DEFENSE

“Even if he doesn’t become president, he could still grab me by my pussy.”

“I think the fuck not!”

“Is this what you wanted?”

“I don’t like this at all, why did I do this?”

“I regret all of this.”

“You didn’t think it all the way through, did you?”

“Fuck off.”

“Was it stupid? Yeah. Do I care? No.”

WE GOT IN A CAR ACCIDENT, WE ARE OKAY

“We are okay, everything is fine.”

“This is all I can do.”

“It’s scary, it’s not fun, and the last couple of days have been miserable.”

“I already don’t like flying.”

“Can’t think about that stuff… trying not to.”

“Let me set the scene for you, okay?”

“The first thing I remember is I heard him yell.”

“We couldn’t breathe — it’s like getting the wind knocked out of you, but it’s like your neck and your head and your brain.”

“I started to lose consciousness.”

“It could’ve been far worse than it was.”

“You know I don’t like needles.”

“Oh, sick, fuckin’ tight, hell yeah.”

“I will probably start crying. Worst case scenario, I might pass out.”

“I’m already having the worst time ever.”

“Wait, you have bruising from the IV?”

“The pain isn’t the worst ever.”

“This is some ultimate universe fuck shit.”

“A really fun thing to do after a car accident is get in a car.”

“All of a sudden, we’re driving through a police shootout.”

“Is this day done yet, fuck?”

PRANK CALLING IN SICK FROM JOBS I DON’T HAVE 2

“Although I’m not seeking validation, I am a human being, and I have feelings.”

“Just come to the desert, please.”

“I know it’s gonna be a really rough day tomorrow.”

“It was just too much, man.”

“I don’t feel good already.”

“I’m so sorry, I won’t see you tomorrow.”

“I hate myself already.”

“I forgot how guilty this makes me feel.”

“Apparently, you can’t drive your Porsche through a river.”

“What’s gonna happen?”

“I’m gonna go under anesthesia, I’m not gonna remember anything.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“I would just die laughing.”

“Hopefully, we’ll never do this again.”

“I literally was told that I was in seventh grade today.”

SHAVING MY EYEBROWS

“I think a lot of people think I was joking.”

“Is Jenna okay? Is she losing her mind?”

“Everyone thought I was going full Britney Spears.”

“Life’s too short not to have really exciting hair.”

“They grow back really fast.”

“Also, they’re mine, not yours.”

“Let’s just get into it.”

“Pray for me.”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“How is it a bloodbath?”

“Ooh, did I cut myself?”

“You know, you’re really supportive and wonderful, have I ever told you that?”

“Julien, I love you so much, thank you for not judging me.”

“Don’t smile like that.”

“Don’t do that.”

“It’s not even that abnormal-looking.”

“I did not think I was gonna be this excited.”

“Here, let me do it.”

“I don’t know if I trust you to shave my face.”

“No, no, no, I don’t trust you.”

“It feels so good, though.”

“Alright, I think I’m done.”

“I think it looks sick.”

“Julien, you don’t like that?”

“I feel like I would be so fast if I went swimming right now.”

“I’m gonna rock your look.”

“Just come touch it.”

“I think it looks natural.”

“We don’t have anything important coming up, do we?”

“I think it’s kinda cute.”

“Like, yeah, it doesn’t look natural, but has anything about me ever looked natural?”

“Now I just look like a different type of asshole.”

“Don’t I look like that someone that wants to party right now?”

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope.”

“This is honestly the most fun I’ve had with makeup probably my entire life.”

“I mean, I don’t hate it. It’s a look.”

“I fuckin’ hate you.”

“This is not what I asked for.”

“That’s dope as fuck, oh my god.”

“Congrats on your freedom.”

“You know what? I’m so glad that I did this.”

“I’m living my best life.”

MY BOYFRIEND DOES MY NAILS

“She is an incredible Internet goddess.”

“She is the Internet I signed up for.”

“In this month alone, I have been nail-shamed so many times.”

“There are people like that in the world, they’re so obnoxious.”

“Get out of our house.”

“I’m sorry, is that an opinion?”

“Just trust the process, okay?”

“But it looks good…!”

“Oh my goodness, it’s stunning.”

“That looks like shit, you didn’t even try…!”

“I’m laughing at you. I’m laughing directly at you.”

“That’s literally not even my job.”

“Oh, that is my job.”

“Don’t knock this over. If this gets all over the floor, we’re never getting our security deposit back, ever.”

“You’re making a mess.”

“That doesn’t look good, dawg.”

“That’s exactly what I was doing.”

“It went from good to really bad.”

“I mean, that’s really not the worst.”

“That glitter really saves everything.”

“If you’re confident that it’s dry, put it in your mouth.”

“How the fuck did you guess that already?”

“It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

“Say ‘yes, ma’am’.”

“I love being called ma’am. I want to exclusively be called ma’am.”

HELLO YOUNG PEOPLE, IT’S HILLARY CLINTON AGAIN

“It’s me again, ya girl, Hill-Daddy.”

“I need you to get out there and vote.”

“I will be the dankest, dopest, bombest president the world has ever seen.”

“Our common thread doesn’t stop there.”

“In here, we’re exactly the same.”

“It’s just a relaxing thing I like to do in my free time.”

“I know where we are, do you think I give a fuck?”

“You just deleted the entire hard drive.”

“My favorite thing to do is faceswap with myself.”

“What the fuck is this?”

“I’m not even connected to the Internet.”

“Is that an ad? This is a DVD.”

“How did you even get in here?”

“It’s my turn…! It’s my turn!”

#rp memes #rp sentence starters #roleplay meme #roleplay sentence starters #mine

[artificialqueens]

Hey Stranger Part 1 (Biadore) - Houdini

A/N: come on part 1! Firstly, thank you all so much for your kind comments on this and Glow (I am shook). Secondly, originally Hey Stranger was supposed to be Biadore but it kind of became a monster, and I’ve hinted at a few side pairings here. Any feedback/comments/suggestions/bribes would be amazing, hit me up at @princess-banana-lady :) Here’s the official first part of Hey Stranger, enjoy! xoxo Houdini

Fuck. Adore rolled over once again, trying to will herself to sleep. She had to be up ridiculously early tomorrow for orientation and she had a feeling showing up with dark circles wouldn’t go over well at Charles’. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep- what if I don’t make friends? Ganj will be there, she’ll be outgoing, but I can’t just rely on her. What kind of weirdo has one friend that’s also their cousin?

Adore’s inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of her door creaking open. She held back a smile as she heard feet padding towards the bed. Obviously. Rolling over to make room for her cousin, she let out a groan. “Can’t sleep either?”

Laganja snorted. “Nah, I just felt like squeezing in your bed,” she replied drily, flicking on the bedside lamp and slipping her amazon-long legs into the sheets. The two faced each other silently. After years of living together, words weren’t needed. Adore blinked as she noticed a lilac streak running through Laganja’s long hair. “That’s dope,” she commented. Laganja smiled. “Gotta keep up the image, girl”.

Adore let out a laugh. Always one to march to the beat of her own drum, Laganja had gone through virtually every hairstyle on the planet. A few years and lifestyle choices after their move, she had ditched her plain-jane (literally) name and threw herself into more advanced dance classes. People at school saw Laganja as the loud, leggy blonde with a penchant for tongue pops, but Adore could see the same cousin who had come to live with them when Adore was 7. And right now, she was scared shitless.

Not that Adore was any different. Starting tomorrow, she couldn’t rely on her social butterfly of a cousin to make friends for the both of them. They had homeroom together, but other than that, Adore would be in the music stream and Laganja in the dance stream. “Adore?” Langanja whispered. “Yeah, Ganj?”

Laganja paused before continuing. “Can you do that purple eyeshadow thing on me tomorrow?” she asked quietly. Adore punched her playfully. “Yes, bitch. You do the cat eye on me.” Laganja nodded eagerly. “It’ll be okay I think. Plus, Bianca will be there and her mom says she’s got tons of friends,” she said before lowering her voice. “Are you ready to see your lesbian awakening again?” she teased.

Adore shrieked and slapped Laganja’s arm. “Don’t play that, girl!” she responded before letting out a huge yawn. Laganja giggled and turned off the lamp. “You didn’t answer,” she mumbled, already drifting off. But they both knew the answer. Hell no.

*****

Bianca checked her reflection in the mirror again, pursing her lips. She didn’t normally wear makeup to school, but Courtney’s excessive tirades about “The importance of senior year, B!”, had gotten to her. Dark brown eyeliner made her amber eyes pop, and her glossy lips looked downright kissable. Grabbing her bag, she made her way downstairs and out the door just as Courtney pulled up. The upbeat Aussie flashed her pearly whites as Bianca slid into shotgun. “You look stellar, lady killer!” she trilled, revving her engine. Bianca cackled. “You’re just excited for new meat, aren’t you?”

Courtney feigned shock before nodded. “I just want to find someone I can actually have a real thing with, you know?” she mused. Bianca nodded, trying to hide the look of disgust on her face. She failed. “Bianca! Not everyone can just fuck and leave like you do. Besides, there will definitely be some cute new girls” she teased. Bianca rolled her eyes as Courtney began singing along to the radio.

3 songs later, they pulled into the parking lot and were promptly greeted by Alaska and Jinx. The two theatre majors grinned as they greeted Bianca and Courtney with hugs. “Court, you’re never gonna guess who the new dance head is! It’s Alyssa–” “Edwards.” Courtney finished. “Her daughters are here too, apparently,” Jinx mused.

Alaska’s eyebrows shot up. “Girl, Adore Gelato’s back?” she exclaimed.

“Delano.” Bianca mumbled.

Alaska nodded before continuing. “Shit, if both her kids are here they must be talented as hell. We haven’t had siblings since Shangela and Gia last year.”

The foursome made their way through the front entrance. “Where’s Trixie?” Bianca questioned, searching the halls for the last member of their group. As if she had magically conjured her, a pink faced Trixie emerged from a classroom and lumbered her way towards them. “Move!” she snapped, practically pushing a new kid out of her path. “Shit.” Courtney muttered, staring at the angry pink tornado as she approached.

“Ican’tfuckingbelievethisfuckmrkressleyIamnotgoingto-” “Bitch, breathe!” Bianca barked. Trixie took a deep breath before speaking again. “You know how I applied to be the student director for the fall production, right?” she began, balling her fists. “Of course we know. We read through your application about 40 fucking times.” Bianca exasperatedly replied.

“Right, well Mr. Kressley emailed me to meet with him today, saying I got the position. But apparently, there’s going to be two directors this year,” she seethed. Courtney wrinkled her nose, staring at her fellow music major in confusion. “Why is that a bad thing?” she questioned.

“It’s not. It shouldn’t be.” Trixie retorted. The four girls waited for an answer. “Except the other director is KATYA ZAMOLODCHIKOVA!” she hissed.

Bianca bit back a smile as she eyed the other girls, each of them trying equally as hard not to crack. Finally, Jinx spoke. “You know, Ivy really likes Katya. Maybe you’ll finally get along,” she chuckled.

Trixie and Katya had been rivals since they began at Charles. Although to be fair, it was more of a one way rivalry. They were the top two students in the year, but Trixie never understood how the perpetually chilled out Russian did so well. The girl was constantly pulling all nighters and managed to show up in weird prints every single day, and to the driven Trixie, that was a reflection of her work ethic. However, Bianca had seen Katya’s work. The girl was fucking talented, and a gem to boot.  

Trixie huffed as the group approached a table filled with fliers. “And she’s a design student. Since when has a design student qualified to help direct a musical? No offencee Bianca.”

Bianca smiled. “None taken,” she replied, picking up a flier and handing it to Courtney, who gasped. “Legally Blonde??? YES!!!” she exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to play Elle,” she raved, raising her voice to be heard over two excited new girls.

One of the newbies, muscular with unruly blonde hair turned towards Courtney.

“I see that,” she remarked, unabashedly raking her eyes over Courtney’s body. “Yes gawd!” her friend sang, snapping her fingers at the now blushing Courtney. “Come on, Elle!”

Alaska and Jinx laughed at the blonde, who had legs up to her fucking ears and a light purple streak in her sleek hair. Bianca blinked as she stared at the girl’s blue eyes, framed by long lashes and shimmery purple eyeshadow. The girl looked weirdly familiar.

The muscular one grinned at them. “I’m Willam, and this giraffe is-” “

Holy shit!” the leggy girl exclaimed. “Bianca! Bianca Del Rio??” she cried, her  haughty face splitting into a warm smile.

Bianca nodded, still not sure who this girl was. “That’s me,” she rasped. Willam’s eyebrow shot up. “Sexy voice,” she commented. Bianca rolled her eyes. “Nice try blondie, but I don’t do charity work,” she quipped.

Willam shrugged. “You’re not my type either,” she replied, eyeing Courtney, who was batting her annoyingly long lashes.

The tall girl stared at Bianca before raising her eyebrows. “Girl, it’s me!” she said, gesturing wildly. Bianca stared at her before shaking her head. “Sorry, I don’t remember-” “Jane!” , the tall girl whispered, looking around furtively. Willam let out a loud laugh. “Your actual name is-” she screeched, cutting off abruptly when she saw the glare coming from her new friend.

Bianca’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, you grew the fuck up!” she cackled, giving the girl in front of her a hug. “It’s Langanja now,” Laganja announced. Jinx laughed. “I can smell. I mean, tell.” she joked.

Bianca quietened. If Jane, or Laganja, or whatever is here, then Adore’s gotta be here already too. Why am I so invested in seeing that kid again? It’s not like-

“Where’s Adore?” Alaska asked, looking around the atrium and rousing Bianca from her train of though. “She’s helping Aunt Alyssa set up the studio. I would help but the school doesn’t want me hanging around Alyssa that much. Conflict of interest or some shit,” Laganja explained, rolling her eyes.

“She’s in dance. I’m music,” said Willam. Bianca nodded. “I’m design, these two bitches are theatre,” she suppled, turning to Courtney slyly. Courtney turned pink as she looked at Willam. “Trixie and I are music too,” she said feebly, as the other seniors tried not to laugh.

“What’s up Charles! This is Manila Luzon and Latrice Royale with your 5 minute warning!” blared a familiar voice over the P.A system.

“We should get going to homeroom, the bell’s gonna go,” warned Jinx. Trixie turned back to the two younger girls. “You guys should audition for the musical. It’s just one song and a monologue, and I’m the assistant director.”

“Co-assistant director,” Alaska teased. Trixie rolled her eyes. “But yeah, Court and Jinx normally do it and Bianca’s head of costuming. Auditions are in two days.”

Willam nodded. “Sounds good.” she decided, before turning to go. “It was nice meeting you girls. Bye Courtney,” said Willam, shooting the Australian a wink.

“Have you seen Adore yet?” Laganja questioned, her expression unreadable. “Nope,” Bianca responded, trying to ignore the weird feeling in her stomach. Laganja nodded before sauntering away with Willam.

“Who’s gonna tell them new meat always get the chorus?” Jinx chuckled. Bianca smiled. “They’ll learn.”

Trixie checked her watch. “Let’s go,” she suggested, turning to Jinx. The two headed down the east corridor while Alaska made her way to the south one. “I’ll say hi to Katya for you!” she yelled, laughing as Trixie flipped her off.

Courtney grabbed Bianca’s arm as the two headed to their own homeroom.

***

Laganja pulled out her phone as Willam led her to their first class. She grinned as Adore picked up on the first ring.

“We finally finished setting up that fucking barre, I never want to see a dance studio ever again,” Adore ranted. Laganja laughed at how out of breath Adore’s voice sounded.

“Adore?”

“Yeah Ganj?”

“What do you think of Legally Blonde?”

#hey stranger #houdini #cisgirl au #high school au #multiship #biadore #witney #trixya #bianca del rio #adore delano #trixie mattel #alaska thunderfuck #jinkx monsoon #willam belli #laganja estranja #rpdr fanfiction #lesbian au

[theeurekaproject]

Sub Noctem

Lyra woke up to laser lights.

She rubbed her head and looked at the blood trickling down onto her hands. She didn't entirely remember how she'd gotten here or what happened to her, but she didn't really need to. She didn't exactly have a home to go back to, anyway.

She stood up and reached in her pocket for a mirror. Her wallet was missing, not that there was anything in it to begin with. Small as they were, she knew better than to leave her night's earnings anywhere as obvious as a wallet.

The mirror on her compact had long since broken, but she couldn't afford a new one. It was the first thing she'd ever bought with her own money, a whopping five credits and fifty three cents earned over the course of four days of double shifts. In hindsight, spending that much money on something as stupid as a compact seemed thoughtless, but she'd been young then. It was probably about a decade ago, so Lyra was five, maybe six?

Through the cracks in the mirror, she could see that her bright pink, bubblegum-colored hair was somehow even messier than it usually was, and one side of her face was covered in deep violet bruises she didn't remember getting. Somebody probably beat her up and took her wallet, she reasoned. Part of her wondered why they didn't just kill her if they were going to mug her and dump her in an alley, but maybe the robber didn't want to get their hands dirty unnecessarily. Besides, they probably knew they'd never get prosecuted. Even if Lyra somehow worked up the courage to waltz into a police station, they'd never believe a Cantator, anyway.

She tried in vain to smooth the tangles on her head. The blood from the laceration she'd somehow sustained had dried in her hair, making it even worse. She remembered buying a comb at some point, but some other girl had immediately stolen it, and she never bothered trying to recover it. It was best not to pick a fight if one could help it down here.

Abandoning the hope of making herself look decent, she tucked the compact mirror back into her purse. Pretty girls got the best tips, but with the bruises and the cuts and the acne she already had, fixing her hair probably wouldn't help much anyway. If she had makeup, she might have been able to make herself look better, but she couldn't afford that, either.

She set off to work, not entirely knowing what time it was. Judging by the amount of teenage girls on street corners, it was probably late at night. Keeping track of time was difficult when the sunlight couldn't shine through the buildings to reach here, and she had no idea how long she'd slept for.

She entered through the back door of the building, not wanting to deal with the crowd outside. "You're late," one of the dancers snarled, leaning against the wall by the door.

"You think I don't know that?" Lyra asked.

"Well, if you knew that, why didn't you get here faster? It's been like an hour since you were supposed to be here. Viola's going to be pissed."

"Viola's probably too drunk to notice."

The dancer sighed. "I'd like to argue with you, but you're probably right. At least, I hope you are, for your sake."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine."

It was true that Viola could be nasty when she wanted to be. Still, Lyra had dealt with far worse before—Viola wasn't anywhere near as formidable as a threat as she thought she was. She was one of those people who went mad with power when given the slightest hint of authority, and who exercised her drug-fueled stim rage on her underlings just for the hell of it. But when it came down to it, Viola was nothing more than a 30-year-old woman who looked and acted like a 60-year-old because of her history of violence and substance abuse, and there was nothing she could really do but yell at Lyra and steal her tips, which happened on a daily basis anyway.

Lyra washed her hands quickly—not like it would help; it was filthy everywhere, and she was sure the water had just as many germs as the surroundings—and put on an apron. It was probably supposed to look sexier than it did, but because Lyra was so short, it hung around her knees instead of high up on her thighs. Then she put on the rest of the overly cutesy, cheaply made, poorly designed ensemble—uncomfortable heels with no arch support, a choker with the same lacy details as the apron, thin satiny gloves that wouldn't protect against anything, and bows for her scraggly hair. Because even the cleaning staff had to be eye candy.

"You look ridiculous," said Alicaria. Alicaria wasn't the name on her birth certificate—like many others here, she probably didn't even have a birth certificate—but she was an alicaria, so that's what they called her. It worked well that way; Sufflava for the girl with platinum blonde hair, Saltatrix for the prima ballerina, Sambuca for the harp player. Lyra had gotten her name from when Cithara was ill for two months and she'd made extra tips by playing the abandoned lyre. Cantatores didn't get names. They were defined by their caste and their job, because that's the only thing they were good for, and Lyra was no exception.

"I look better than you," she retorted. Alicaria was dressed in a ridiculous ensemble designed to show off her curves, but she didn't really have anything to show other than protruding ribs and a hunger-swollen stomach.

"Give it two more years and you'll be in my position," Alicaria said. "Hell, maybe even less than that. Just wait until Aria kicks the bucket."

"What happened to Aria?" Lyra asked.

"Pregnant. The last kid nearly killed her—she woulda died if it weren't for that charity doctor woman who cut open her organs to get the baby out. And God knows we aren't going to get charity doctors down here anymore, not since Alestra passed all those regulations on which castes can go where."

Lyra laughed. "Let's hope Acidalia's better." "Acidalia? Please," Alicaria scoffed. "I doubt she'll make it a month before she's dead."

Lyra knitted her eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"

"Did you hear the news? Last night, some aristocrat got fed up and tried to kill her in the middle of some party. Cassiopeia was her name, I think? The girl from the Generalis family. It was a whole big thing."

"An assassination attempt?" Lyra's eyes widened. "Wow. I would not want to be in that Generalis girl's position right now."

"More like you don't want to be in Acidalia's position. Half the court wants her dead, apparently."

"Why?" Lyra asked. She was well aware that any sort of criticism of the Imperial family was liable to lead to death for treason. Even though the laws were always different for the upper class, she felt like trying to murder the Imperatrix Ceasarina was one of those things that was always frowned upon, regardless of social status.

"Beats the hell out of me. Apparently she's a Martian bastard child, but that's just a rumor. And you know, she supposedly has a rocky relationship with Alestra. Anyway," Alicaria said, "I'm just a Cantator. What do I know?"

"More than me," Lyra replied. "I don't even watch the news. They never play it in here."

"Yeah, guys like to watch sports mostly." Alicaria rolled her eyes. "Drives me mad. I'll be sitting there flirting with some guy and all he cares about is which idiot, doped-up transhuminist cyborg beats the other idiot, doped-up transhumanist cyborg… oh, shit."

"What? Oh, Viola." Lyra sighed. "I should go."

"No, not Viola. Look." Alicaria pointed at a pair of young men who had mistakenly waltzed right into the back entrance. "Who the hell are they?" "I don't know, some soldiers on shore leave?" Alicaria shook her head. "Nah, they're immunes. Look at them. They ain't the type of draft dodgers who show up in here on the regular. They've got money."

"What's an immune?" Lyra asked, but Aricaria was already hanging off one of the soldier's arms, looking at him like a predator eyeing its prey.

"So," she asked, her voice a husky vibrato, "come here often?" The soldier boy laughed and puffed out his chest to show his shiny pins and badges. Lyra had no idea what they were for, but they sure looked important.

"Not really," he said. "What's a pretty girl like you doing down here?"

"Mmmm, wouldn't you like to know." She twirled a piece of bleach-blonde hair around her finger and giggled as if she'd just heard the funniest thing in the world. "What's your name, handsome?" "Well, officially AX-C240, but my friends call me Ace," he said cockily.

AX unit? Lyra thought. They were specialists, the type of people who got invited to classy parties and hung out with aristocrats—the sons of the rich and famous. Alicaria was right—these people had money, and they looked like the exact type of dumb upper-crusts who paid more than was necessary because they didn't know what was the normal rate. And there were two of them. She'd never so much as touched a boy before, but she desperately needed cash, and—

"Stop it, Ace," the other boy said, interrupting Lyra's train of thought. For some strange reason, she felt almost relieved. "She's a meretrix, she's just trying to get your money."

Alicaria pouted. "Well, you don't have to say it like that."

"Well, I'm right, aren't I?" the boy asked. "Neither of us have credits to spare right now, anyway."

"Like hell you don't," Alicaria snapped. "You're part of one of the highest ranked sectors in the entire army and you're wearing ceremonial gear to boot. You look like the goddam Imperatrix herself."

Suddenly the boy's face went white. "What? Who told you that?"

"Jeez, nobody. Relax," Alicaria said huffily. "You people are always so paranoid. Either spend some money or get out."

The boy breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, okay. We won't be using your services, you can leave now."

"Whatever." Alicaria stomped away, her mismatched stilettos clacking against the grimy hardwood floor.

Lyra turned back to the two men. "Who are you looking for?" "Are you trying to sell us something?" Ace asked suspiciously.

"No, I'm the maid slash underage eye candy for creepy dudes." Lyra gestured to her apron. "Just trying to be helpful."

"Well, you don't look very much like 'eye candy,' no offense," he said. "Did you know your nose has been bleeding for this entire conversation?"

Lyra lifted a hand to her nose. It was bloody. "Huh."

"What happened to you?" the other soldier asked. "You look like you got jumped."

Lyra shrugged. "I probably did get jumped." The soldiers looked at each other, surprised. They definitely seemed like the type of exploitable young idiots who didn't know how things worked down here—anyone who came to the Undergound without knowing the incredibly high crime rate was setting themselves up for failure.

"You look awful," the soldier said. "Do you want a bandage or something? The name's T, by the way." "Lyra," Lyra said, "but that's not my real name. I don't really have one." T shrugged. "Neither do I." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny medkit, which expanded open into a full kit like a pop-up book when he touched the red cross on the front.

"Latex or non-latex?"

"Don't care," Lyra replied indifferently, but inside she was pleasantly surprised. She'd never had somebody pause to help her before, let alone ask her preferred type of bandage. T handed her a pink one in the same color as her hair, which she plastered on her bleeding cheek.

"Thanks," she said, smiling at him—a genuine smile, not a please-give-me-your-money smile. "Who are you looking for anyway?"

"Her name's Cassandra," Ace said. A lightbulb went off in Lyra's head.

"What's her caste?"

Ace paused momentarily, racking his brain for something. "A Scientia, I think? Her daughter used to be an astrophysicist student, I know that much. But then Cass got caught committing some type of crime and they went on the run, and now they're down here someplace."

"I think I know her!" Lyra exclaimed.

T snorted. "Trust me, you'd know if you knew Cassandra." "I think I do. She's kind of popular around these parts," Lyra explained. "I've never met her personally, but I know a little about her. She's supposedly nicer than most lenae and has a terrifying cat."

"A well known lena cat lady," T chuckled. "She was always bad at keeping a low profile, wasn't she?"

Ace nodded. "She's so attention-seeking. Do you know where she is?"

Lyra thought for a moment. "I think she might live near the lustris across the street? I always assumed she was the procuress, but apparently that's not true." "Nah," Ace said. "She just likes to make up stories. You want to come with us?" T sighed. "Ace, we can't just—"

"She's bleeding, T," Ace argued, his voice sounding more whiny than Lyra expected from such a pompous-looking soldier.

T frowned. "Fine. But only because you're hurt and Cass has a bigger medkit than I do. And we're in such deep shit that I doubt Cassandra would object to us bringing along a random praeministra."

Lyra sighed. "I mean, I do have work. But I'm also late, and the more I can avoid Viola—my supervisor—the better." "Who's Viola?" Ace asked.

"She works for my Magister," Lyra said. "She's not dangerous or anything, but she's kind of a jerk."

"And who's your Magister?" "The guy who owns me," Lyra said.

The soldiers looked at each other, alarmed.

"Not owns me like a slave," she added quickly. "I mean, he didn't buy me—well I guess he did, kinda. I'm just in a lot of debt to him—well, actually, my mother is in a lot of debt to him, but she's probably either dead or worse, so it's my problem now."

"That doesn't seem fair," Ace said.

Lyra smiled sadly. "Life isn't fair. You just have to make do with the cards you're dealt."

"Maybe we can deal you another, better card," Ace offered, holding out a hand. "Actually, that's probably a bad analogy. I don't know how card games work."

"It works well enough for me," Lyra laughed, taking his hand. "You know, I want to go with you, but I don't think I can. I have a job… and as shitty as it is, it's a job. Those are hard to come by, especially for Cantatores. And I need money, badly. I can't just walk away from this to follow two guys I just met." T and Ace looked at each other. They shared a moment of understanding that Lyra was not privy to, then turned to face her again.

"I can offer you a lot more money than you're making now," T said, his voice quieter. "And a comfortable place to sleep, and three hot meals a day."

Lyra suddenly had a realization. "You're trying to rope me into some human trafficking ring, or a cult, or an organ harvesting operation, aren't you? Because that's exactly what this sounds like."

T rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess it kind of looks like that. It's not, though."

"And I should believe you why?" Lyra asked, crossing her arms.

"I mean, there really isn't a reason. You don't have to come with us," Ace said. "I just… feel bad. No offense, but you look like garbage."

Lyra didn't think she looked that bad, all things considered… but then again, these two were clearly wealthy—not even middle-class, could-afford-their-own-apartment wealthy, but really wealthy—and they probably had different standards for how people were supposed to look. And they were being nice to her. That was new.

"Your nose is still bleeding," T added, offering her thick bundle of gauze.

Lyra looked at him, then looked at the doorway to the inside of the bar. Truthfully, she wanted to take this chance, but there was just such a high risk of it being something deadly. If she followed these soldiers, as nice as they were, there was a high chance she'd never return.

But what did she have to come back to, anyway?

She had no future down here. In all honesty, she would never work off that debt—she'd be in her sixties before it was gone, and that's assuming she made it past twenty, which most girls didn't. Aria probably wouldn't make it past 18 if Alicaria was right, and she usually was. And what would Lyra do then? She wouldn't be indebted, but she'd still have no money to speak of and no job lined up, so she'd just keep working here… and nothing would change, debt or no debt. She'd be broke forever, reliant on people born into money to give her scraps of charity off their great table. This might be the one opportunity she had to break that cycle.

"Okay," she decided. "Let's go, but quickly."

"You sure changed your tune," T said, surprised.

"Ever come to the realization that the whole system is a kind of screwed up cycle and you're stuck in it?" Lyra asked.

"Funnily enough," he said, "I have."

Lyra assumed he was talking about the military complex—she didn't entirely know what that was, but it seemed like a newsworthy buzzword that soldiers would talk about—but there was something in his tone that suggested otherwise. She looked more closely at him, trying to understand what he meant. Then she noticed that his almost-orange skin and brown, Martian eyes were incredibly familiar. He reminded her of somebody she'd seen before.

There were plenty of half-Martians in the army, and most Eleutherian soldiers were supposed to look alike. She was probably just thinking of some other man. Still, for some reason the resemblance was almost reassuring.

Lyra took the apron off and hung it back up on the nail that served as a hook. She wanted to say something cool about leaving the system or breaking out of their programming, then she realized that it would make her sound like a protagonist from a crappy cyberpunk movie, and she probably wasn't cool enough to pull it off.

Instead, she held the gauze tighter to her nose and left the bloodstains sitting there on the floor, reveling in the fact that for once she didn't have to clean it up. Maybe she was going straight into an organ harvesting ring or a murderous cult, but maybe this small victory, this ability to just walk away from this place, was worth it.

#eurekaproject #on the edge of eureka #pov Lyra #Lyra #T #Ace (Character)