hate the lace

2

history: cleopatra vii

her story resonates, too, because of what she represented in such a male-dominated society. in an era when egypt was roiled by internal and external battles, cleopatra held the country together and proved to be as powerful a leader as any of her male counterparts. (insp)

2

This is the punniest of families. You were like the fourth some odd person to ask me for this, so I deliver, EVEN THOUGH I think as soon as your parents wear the trend, that’s supposed to be some universal sign the trend is dead.

@possibly-rare-trash, @chalala-chan, @chocho1313, @otakuhalfdevil

Alyanette, Adrienino, Chlobrina, Kimax, Julerose, Myvan, Nathalix

Bonus: Lila, Feligette, Gabalie, RollingStone, Mirore

I Should Have Known

Simon gets his soulmark one night at Watford and shows it to Baz, who begins acting strangely.  Determined to see what Baz is hiding, Simon will stop at nothing to solve the mystery.

Also many thanks to @eroticgropefest for the beta!!


I wake up in the middle of the night to a tingling sensation in my arm. It’s happening, I think as I get up and turn the lights on.

“What the hell, Snow,” Baz mumbles with his hand in front of his face.

“Uh… It’s nothing.” I say quickly.

Baz slowly gets up and sits down on his bed, looking annoyed. “Are you sure?You look like a rabbit caught in the headlights, Snow.”

“Fuck off, Baz.” I tell him. Why does he have to be so bloody annoying?

He yawns before saying, “spit it out, so that I can get to sleep,” and closes his eyes like he’s struggling to stay awake.

“I haven’t–I haven’t looked at it.” I tell him, and I don’t know why but I can’t stand not saying it out loud.

He sneers at me before he asks, “how do you know that you have it if you haven’t looked at it yet?”

That pisses me off because he already has his mark so he knows how it feels when it happens. But I feel like I need to prove that I have it, so I just sit down on his bed and turn my arm around.

We’re both looking at the mark on my arm. There’s a flame going up it, and it’s beautiful: I’ve never seen anyone with this mark before.

I realize that Baz isn’t saying anything, and when I look at him and he seems shocked.

Then he touches my arm, tracing my mark with his finger, leaving goosebumps on my skin. Then he pushes my arm away and I jump to my feet at the sudden movement.

“What’s wrong with you?” Why does he always have to be a prick? It’s so annoying.

Instead of answering, Baz passes me and turns off the lights.

“Do you know anyone with this mark?” I ask him. The way he was looking at it made it seem like it wasn’t the first time that he had seen it.

He’s lying down again when he finally answers me. “No.”

“Why can’t you just tell me who it is?”

He turns to the wall.“Fuck off.”

“What if we make a deal?” I say a bit harshly. “If you let me see your mark I can try to help you find your soulmate and in return you tell me who mine is?” Maybe if I help him, he’ll help me.

Baz came back this year with his mark, but he always has it covered. Most people try to have them uncovered in case their soulmate might see it, but not Baz. He hides it like he’s afraid of it.

“Don’t bother,” he tells me, “I already know who it is.” He sounds pissed off about it.

**

I really want to see his mark. I kept looking at him all day just in case he shows it, but he never does. What if his soulmate is here and he just doesn’t want that person to know?

What reason could he possibly have to be pissed off at his soulmate anyway? If it was me I would want to know. Fuck, what I am saying? Baz? My soulmate? That’s ridiculous.

He’s in the shower now and if he dressed himself in the room I could catch a glimpse of it, but he always dresses himself in there. What if I entered the bathroom?

I hear the water turning off, so before I start to think of what I’m doing I begin to open the door.

“Snow! What. The. Fuck. Get out!” he yells at me from the other side.

I open the rest of the door wide open and when I see him I freeze. All I can do is stare. I’ve never seen him like this, half naked, still dripping water with a towel around his waist. He’s gorgeous.

“Stop staring, it’s fucking weird,” he tells me.

Oh, fuck. I need to focus on what I came here to see. ”Baz?”

“What?” he snaps.

The way he’s looking at me makes me blush for some reason.I don’t know what I’m doing, but I take a step in his direction. He raises one eyebrow at me but doesn’t move. I take another step and reach for his arm.

“Don’t,” he tells me, and he’s looking at me like he’s afraid.

He tries to pull away from me, but I grab his arm with two hands and turn his wrist so that I can see it.

When I see his mark, I freeze. He has the exact same one that I have. Now I understand the way he reacted last night.

He pulls his arm away from me and turns around.

“Baz… You’re my soulmate.” I don’t know why this is making so happy, but I start grinning at him.

It all starts to make sense now. All these years following him around, the way I could never stop thinking about him, what he’s doing. It’s because we’re soulmates. Every soulmate has a pull to their other half. I can’t believe I had him all this time here with me without realizing.

“Get out,” he says quietly to me while he sits in the tub.

Maybe I should leave and let him finish getting ready, but I want to know why he was so pissed about this last night. So I sit right by his side.

After a while he asks me, “how are you so calm?”

In any other situation I would probably go off at this point, but when I think about him being my soulmate it feels like I’m finally complete. More grounded, even. So how could I not be calm? Baz always felt like home to me. I never really thought about it much because we were supposed to not like each other but this feels right, so I just shrug. “You’re my soulmate; we’re literally meant to be together.”

“Except that you ended up with the bloke you fucking hate as your soulmate,” he spits out, like he wanted to say this since the moment I entered.

I tentatively put my hand around his wrist. Around our mark. “I don’t hate you Baz.”

He exhales slowly. Yes, we have our fights, and we always try to annoy each other. And that will probably not change because of this and I’m glad. I like that we challenge each other, and that he’s willing to fight me.

When he doesn’t move away I start rubbing his wrist with my thumb, waiting for him to talk. I think he was only scared of my reaction, probably thinking that I wouldn’t want him as my soulmate.

After a while, he’s clearly more relaxed since we’re here and I’m not letting go of him. He lightly bumps his shoulder against mine before saying, “I don’t hate you either.” and laces our fingers together.

If Baz thinks I’m ever letting him go, he’s wrong. I like him like this. Under my thumb. Under my hands. I’ve got you now, I think.


(see my snowbaz fic masterlist)

Colours (Barry Allen)

BLURB: every person you love leaves a colour on your skin. Some people are stained everywhere with colour, some with none at all. But there is always one simple rule, once you find your soulmate they wash away all the other colours. 

OR 

 The soulmate colour AU with Barry cause lets be real, everyone needs this in their lives.  

 Also I apologize, I wrote this at three AM.

——————————————————————————–

The waiter that handed me my coffee had hands stained with blue, bright blue standing out against their dark skin. Guess they got lucky, found someone to wash away the rest. Or perhaps they never had any to wash away, their hairline is stained too. Signs of gentle touches. 

 Yeah I know most people use words like ‘painted’ or ‘caressed’ to describe the colours. I use ‘stained’, because thats what they are. Stupid marks that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried. Marks that show everyone your personal life. Stains that show if you love too much or not at all.

 You see I hate the orange stains that lace my body, the constant reminder that my only love left me. Ran away with someone who could mark them with deep purple, wash away my pitiful gold. 

 Most people think gold is an amazing colour to leave behind, not him. He hated it, said it reminded him of all the medals he should have won. 

 Oh well, at least I’m not stained with white 

 That’s the worst, white means you’ve fallen in love. But they don’t love you back, so every time that person touches you your skin is bleached. A constant reminder that they don’t love you back 

 Most of the time those people find another soulmate, someone to wash away the bleach. To give them colour again 

 There’s one person in this city that I know of with skin bleached. 

 A CSI, I don’t know his name. But it’s obvious, I always see him interviewing patients at the hospital I work at.

 See their sympathetic looks as their eyes trail along his bleached body. 

 I’ve never spoken to him though; hell I’ve never even looked him in the eyes. I’m too scared I’ll see myself in them, see the same hopeless look all people left by their colour match do. 

 Yeah I get that there’s still hope. That by some miracle you might find a real match. Someone to wash away the other colours. Or paint over the bleach. It had happened before. 

But then I look at the bleached CSI, and I lose all hope. 

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

 As I walk to the hospital I see him again, running in. He’s always late, that much is obvious by the annoyed scowl of the police captain as he arrives.

 The annoyed scowl stained with yellow. 

 I went to my next patient, trying to ignore the bleached soul behind me as much as I tried to pretend my hands aren’t stained with orange. 

 “Y/N?” one of the nurses called. 

 “Yeah?” 

 “The CSI has to question your patient.” 

 “Alright, send him in,” I replied as I carried on taking my patient’s vitals.

 There was nothing I wouldn’t have done to not be in that room.

 To not see my own fate reflected in his eyes. 

 I could ignore him, I thought. I could carry on my duties and pretend I didn’t see the other person in the room, I could just make sure the patient was stable and handle the rest once he leaves.

 Easy. Until he enters. 

 He’s much taller than I expected, about half a head taller than me (yeah I’m tall urgh). He walked in and tried to introduce himself. Tried to shake my hand.

 I ignored him, I couldn’t possibly address him. That would mean addressing all of him. 

 I try not to notice the sad looks my patient is giving him.

 I did my full exam without even looking at him, and then practically ran from the room. 

 Thankfully the rest of the day went fine, a couple patients commented on how happy I must be of course. Because that was the only option when a colour stains your body as much as it stains mine, no one presumes that person could have left. 

Because somehow everything revolves around this stupid colours.

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

 As I was walking home that day I heard running behind me, as I turned around I saw the CSI running towards me. 

 No. No. No. 

 This cannot be happening, I thought. There was no way he could about to reach me, none at all. I avoid him as much as possible. This isn’t happening.

 “Hey! Wait,” he called, running up to me.

 When I turned to look at him I saw just how bad off he was, his hairline, his cheeks, the outline of his lips. All bleached, like every bit of colour was drained from him. 

His pain painted on his face by some cruel artist. 

 He held something in colourless hands, “This fell of your neck while you were examining that guy, thought you might want it back.” In his hands he held my gold necklace that my brother gave me, I hadn’t even noticed it had gone. 

 “Oh my god, thank you so much! I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost this!” He smiled, he was different when he smiled.

 Almost like a trace of his former self somewhere in there, fighting to resurface.

 “No problem,” he said as he handed it back to me. 

 As he gave it to me our hands touched, I almost screamed. 

 Where he touched me, the orange had changed to a deep maroon. I looked at his hand and saw gold, the bleached had been painted over. 

 “Hi,” he whispered, a broken smile on his face.

 “Hey,” I laughed back, tracing his face with my hand, watching as the bleach there changed to gold.

 It’s been five months since that day and I’ve got to own up to something, maybe soulmates weren’t so bad after all. I’ve learned his name is Barry, I’ve he’s the Flash (his colour is maroon for god’s sake). 

He’s in and out of the hospital all the time now.

 Only I don’t avoid him now, I watch with pride. As the patient’s smiles change from sympathetic to hopeful as their eyes trail down the gold paint strokes that lace his body.

———————————————————————————

Thanks for reading what happens in my brain at three AM…

I’m actually rather proud of this one, please let me know what you think.

requests are open :)

A Bughead Drabble

Don’t judge me. Don’t hate me. Lol.

“You keep calling me Juliet.”

She looked me dead in the eye as if she was almost mad, never had I seen such a reaction to what most girls would consider quite a compliment from the circles of romantic literature.

I more or less see it as either a satisfying comment to make a girl fall for you or the most annoying and unsatisfactory series of events that lead to nothing but frustration. Is that not the love ballad of Romeo and Juliet?

She tightens her long blonde ponytail and then spins on the balls of her feet to look at me, slapping her hands to the sides of her hips. “And can you please find another way to get up here!” she says rushing to the window, scowling at my ladder leaning against her window. “My parents will kill me, Romeo!”

I try not to make it so obvious that my voice has hitched in my throat and I straighten my beanie before smiling at her. “Don’t say I’m your Romeo, Bets. I never have been.”

She frowns a bit and I can almost hear her mind ticking. Betty Cooper has always had a way of expressing her thoughts through the looks on her face. I have known her for so long, I was somewhat of a clairvoyant to a small group of people that we call our friends.

She must have felt she had  offended me, forgetting that good ol’ Juggie doesn’t have the sensitive heart that her beloved Archie does. “But-bu-” I cut her off.
“But that would be fair Archie Montague,” I say, giving her a wink which earns me a shove on her behalf.

She sits back down on the edge of her bed and lays back, her lacy dress riding up and as much as I wanted to look away, be a decent human being and the respectable young man I have tried oh so hard to make myself into, I couldn’t help but notice how her blushed skin was reaching further up and up and…

“Jug!”

I snap my head away from her smooth legs and quickly up to her face. “Yeah?”

“I got a message from V, you interested in a bit of a bite?”

I didn’t want to admit it, but I was hunting for an excuse not to go. I had blown Archie off but unfortunately, he is not blind and he will see the ladder leaning against Betty’s picket fenced house. My hands had been so deep in my pockets for a while now and I wonder if she’s noticed but I shake my pockets. “No money.”

Betty laughs and runs her teeth over her bottom lip. “And I will have your back – or Veronica will.”

My face blushes but it shouldn’t – dad had given me a one hundred dollar bill when I crossed him in the street just yesterday which I start fingering in my pocket. “Bets…”

“If it’s too much of a girly date for you, we’ll call Arch to join us.”

I cock an eyebrow. “And detach him from the string and wood connected to his side? I dunno Bets,” I say teasingly.

I scan around her room while she lays down with her head in her hands. So many trinkets, such a big room. So much space and flowers and photos of her and Archie, photos of us three when we were kids, polka dots, lace. So much lace. “So much lace,” I voice out loud.

She sits up and sniggers a bit. “I hate it…”

“So much lace from the top of your bed to the edge of your thighs,” I mutter but I immediately bite my tongue because why the hell did I say that out loud? The lace may be pink and creeping up her body like a vine but I should not be paying so much attention…

Betty sighed and ran a hand over her hair. “It’s so girly. I keep saying that but I never do anything about it.”

I shrug and sit down next to her. “Make it womanly then?”

Betty rolls her eyes and shoves me again, making my body move and unbalance. “Nothing about me is womanly…” she looks down and blushes, red spreading along her face and neck. “Sorry Juggie, I’m being awkward…”

Again Betty Cooper has left me with a lump in my throat and I try not to make it so obvious. “Well, your shirt tells me otherwise,” I say, reaching over and brushing my fingers along her collarbone and begging to brush the swell of her breasts.

She forms goosebumps where my fingers were and shudders a bit. “Have you always been good with your words?”

“Are they working?” I ask a little too loudly. “I’m joking, it’s like a coping mechanism – the more I use my mouth, the less people ask of me. It’s like they don’t know what I’m talking about half the time.”

She licks her lips and rolls over on her bed to face me. “I wonder how well you use that mouth, Jug,” she seems to say in a whisper but I think I have turned supersonic because it feels like it is the loudest thing I have ever heard. “But I am more intrigued in wondering what that brain knows.”
Her chest rises and falls and her hands move up to rest on my forearm. The many times that I’ve stared into the blue eyes of Betty Cooper have not seem to have prepared me for how deep a blue  her eyes are or the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Not the meet ups in the tree house, not the sleepovers at Archie’s that she would crash, not the years we’ve spent in the same class had prepared me. Nothing prepared me and I appreciate not being prepared because she seems that much more… sexy?

“My mind?” I try and say steadily. “Well, my mind tells me that you’ve moved on from the Romeo that is Archie.”

Her gentle hands seem so heavy as they move down my body, edging the end of my shirt and then long fingers touching my skin along my hips and onto my torso. “I want to be brave, Juggie.”

I turn to her too now, gripping my lip with my teeth, trying not to shake or feel too much of her hands on my skin. My lips and teeth can feel the heat of her mouth. Shit, if this is what gets me riled, then so be it. Connecting of the minds first has definitely played it’s role in my longing for Betty. As much as I wished I still thought of Betty as my friend, the wishes were being pushed out to the side, punched and mauled by what I am starting to detect is… love?

We stared. She smiled. Her lips brushed mine. Her hands grew bolder, they moved up and down me, her chest pushed against mine. She opened her mouth and took my lip from my own teeth and in between hers.

“Looks like you’re the brave one, Bets.”

My hands snake up under the lace, my teeth are on her neck and the smell of vanilla is so strong, my nose burns. She arches her back to get closer and I use that mouth she had just questioned to show her what it can do.

True Love

Request:  could you do a hvitserk imagine where him and y/n are having an affair and her husband finds out. a lot of craziness and angst.

Warning: Abuse

“Do you love me?” He asked. Hvitserk stared at the ceiling with his other hand behind his head.

Laying down with your head on his chest that was bare and he slowly ran his fingertips along your just as bare back. You ran you fingers in random shapes on his chest. You stared at his chest. 

“Yes,” You softly whispered, as if afraid to say the word.

He smiled, though you didn’t notice. His face radiated love for the woman in his arms and he didn’t want to let you go. Then as he thought more of the situation, his mouth fell into a frown and his brow fell into thought.

You were his age, but married to a man twice your age. All for what? Land and dowry. Six moons ago, you were married to a man that you hated but your father forced you to marry him. Although if he knew the boy you were having an affair with before you even met your betrothed, he would have rethought the marriage. But alas, he didn’t know of the relations you had with Hvitserk, Son of Ragnar. 

This affair had been going on for three years and it never stopped. At first, it was because both of you wanted to lose your virginity to someone you knew but it didn’t stop at one time. It continued for years. 

Now, as you lay in the old cabin the brothers had out in the forest with the man you loved, you almost thought it was perfect. 

“Lets run away.” You felt the rumble in his chest and you almost didn’t catch what he said. 

Your head jerked up and stared at him with wide eyes. “What?!” You whispered shrilly. You sat up on your arm and although baring yourself to him again, he didn’t look anywhere but your eyes. 

He sat up on his arms and looked in your eyes with determination. “Lets go away. Far away. We will go as far as we need to get away from your husband,” He said the word with spite. 

“Where would we go? How would we get there?” You started questioning him with your face mared with confusion.

“Anywhere. I have money saved up from raids and we can get a ship to take us anywhere we wanted.” He sat fully up and then turned his body so he leaned over you with a hand on your cheek.

You smiled and said nothing as you leaned in to kiss him.

The next day, while your husband was away at the market, you packed your bags as quickly as you could. Hvitserk said he was going to be here before your husband made it home. You smiled to your self with giddiness as you paced yourself around the house, gathering your things. Just as you were finishing up, you heard the door open. 

You grinned, thinking it as Hvitserk. You turned but paused as you saw who it was. You felt a shred of fear fall over your body as you saw you husband. You dropped whatever was in your hands as you backed up.

“What is this?” He asked. He gazed at you in a shock before processing what you were doing. Anger started to cloud his face. “Where do you think you’re going?” He stalked forward and grabbed your arm in a tight grip. You could already feel a bruise forming.

“N-no where.” You spoke meekly to him. 

“No where, huh? Then why are you packing a bag?” He shook you with a sudden force that rattled your brain a bit. “You are not leaving me unless I tell you can leave.” He whipped out his knife that he kept at his side. “I’ll teach you to try to leave me.” Just was he made a cut along your chest, the door busted open as you let out a shriek. 

“Y/N!” Hvitserk stood in shock at the scene. He grew angry and drew his sword. “I think you should you let her go.” He told the man that held you.

Your husband looked at Hvitserk. “Oh, I should, should I?” He said sarcastically. 

He pushed you into the table as he turned to Hvitserk and drew his sword that he barely knew how to use. 

They stood there for a moment before your husband took the first swing. He yelled in rage as he swiped the sword at the Ragnarsson. Your husband was not trained in fighting as well as most men in Kattegat were. So soon he was on the ground, after having grown tired fast and with Hvitserk’s sword as his throat. 

Both men breathed heavily as you made your way halfway behind Hvitserk, who put his arm around in front of you. 

Hvitserk spoke with a sneer and hate laced in his voice. “Here is what’s going to happen. Y/N is going to divorce you and then she will come and marry me. Then if you oppose, I will have your head on a platter.” He paused as he tilted his head in thought. “Or maybe I’ll just let Ivar know that you cut his best friend.”

At that, your husband- ex-husband - shook in fear at the thought of the youngest Ragnarsson and his thought of punishment. He nodded quickly in agreement and Hvitserk turned to you and led you out of the house. He walked out and put away his sword and took your waist and led you to his cabin.

Tags: @raekenimages @holy-minseok

anonymous asked:

I know I'm probably gonna catch some heat for this, but: I wish they had kept Clary and Jace as siblings on the show. I wish Maia & Jace could become a real thing. Jace could learn so much from her. And Maia deserves a good guy, And Jace is a good guy, even if he sometimes can be a little obtuse, he is learning. It could be such a beautiful relationship. So many things aren't possible because the writers are afraid to move away from the books (which I understand, some book fans are crazy).

I mean, to be fair, Jace and Clary don’t have to stay siblings for Jace and Maia to happen. From my pov, I always felt (at least in the show!) that Jace and Clary always had this cute highschool romance, you know? Like it is all such a whirlwind, cute and sweet but with no real…how do I say this? Substance? It works all through school and all but when you graduate you somehow notice… wait…. am I really going to stay together with this person? Now that I will attend college/university? Is this what we had real? Will it stay? Or was it just a thing in school? You know what I mean? That’s how C/lace looks to me in the show, a cute teeny romance that will not work once real life really hits them.

Whereas Jace and Maia always had more substance. Like… much more of a basis for their relationship? It all seemed more mature, more real. Like this could work for years if they would go for it. It’s not just because they have way more chemistry but I dunno…. they are f.e. both abusive survivors and I think this would help to establish their relationship even further. Apart from the sexual attraction there is much more there for a real relationship as for C/lace and their cutey sugary highschool kinda romance. And to witness how Jace and Maia would work their way through it all, sounds way more interesting than Clary and Jace. 

And yes, I really wish they would just get rid of the strong corset of the books and work on those plots and relationships that actually really work on the show, whether because of plot/story or because of chemistry. :/

randomnesstwo  asked:

hi, um, if you're still doing that one shot request thing, and if it isn't a bother, could you do angsty Jamilton? Pls, thx. Love your blog. Sorry, I'm awkward. Thanks! <3

My child, I too, am an awkward turtle. Just so we’re clear, I am now the tumblr mother to you all, and you all my adopted children. Any problems? No? Okay good.

~~~~~

Alex was bitter. Well, he was normally, but this was a different kind of bitter. Since freshman year of high school, he and Thomas had always been at each others throats. Whether it be in debate class, or just in general. Only in the end of their senior year - thanks to Laf’s ideas of seven minutes in heaven - their feelings were resolved. They began dating the summer before freshman year of college, and though they weren’t roommates - probably for the better - they’d been dating for two years.

But here he was, sat next to John and Herc gush to each other, talking about how cute Laf and Peggy’s Halloween costumes were, talking about how they were proud of their ideas. They knew how Alex was feeling - who didn’t? - but knew better than to interfere at this point. 

He and Thomas were, of course, dressed as one of the famous couples as were basically every other couple at the party. Thomas had the grand idea as coming as Adventure Time characters - so here he was sat, dressed as Marceline while Thomas was dressed as Princess Bubblegum, flirting with some bad dyed, fake boobed Fin. 

So yeah, he was bitter. Thomas, being the charmer he was, was flirting back. His curles were tamed, the crown sitting neatly on his head. Alex watched as he said something, the flirtly twinkle in his eyes as the girl blushed, giggling, hiding her face behind her cup.

Alex wanted to be mean, wanted to think harshly, but he didn’t know this girl. From what he could tell, or, you know, had snooped about, she was visiting, a cousin of Samuel Seabury. She may not have known Alex and Thomas were dating, but Thomas sure as hell did.

He had watched it for about ten minutes, watching as the two grew closer, until his heart couldn’t take anymore. He gets he and Thomas didn’t always get along, but hell, once they had started dating it was going amazing. Their political views were still basically polar, but they loved each other.

Or atleast, Alex loved Thomas. Watching this, Alex wasn’t so sure how Thomas felt. Knowing his friends were expecting him to blow up, he surprised them, a broken sigh coming from his mouth, he put his cup down, eyes brimming with tears as he left the building. John called after him, Herc glaring daggers at Thomas.

Lafayette and Peggy - dressed Belle and Adam - walked over, having seen Alex leave. “What is wrong with out dear Alexander?” 

Herc said nothing, but Laf, following where he was glaring, turned, seeing Thomas still chatting - flirting - away with the blonde. Laf felt his blood boil. He and Thomas were close - well, as close as twins could be - but he cherished Alex just as much.

“Excuse me, mon cheri.” He kissed Peggy’s cheek, hiking the yellow dress higher, he stormed his way over to his twin.

“So, why is Laf, Belle and you’re - “

“Don’t question Lafayette and let me enjoy seeing his legs on display like this.” Peggy held her hand up, shutting John’s mouth.

“Pardon me, madam, but I need a word with my dear brother.” The blonde frowned, but nodded, sending a small smile to Thomas as she walked away, probably going to try and find her cousin. Thomas opened his mouth but was shut up, Laf’s hand smacking him across the face.

Gilbert what the hell - “

“No, you what the hell?!” Thomas said nothing, holding his cheek, “What the hell are you doing? No! Don’t answer that - what you’re doing is clear as day! To everyone! I had convinced everyone else to give you a chance when you and Alex began dating and I’m really regretting that seeing as they were right.”

“What do - “

“You don’t have the right to question what I mean! Here you are, attending a party, dressed as a couple with your boyfriend, and you’re flirting with someone else! So consumed in looking at the breasts of some girl you didn’t even notice Alex left the God damn party!” Thomas looked to where Alex had been, seeing Herc, John, Peggy, Eliza, Angelica, Burr, hell even James, but as Laf said, no Alex.

“No no, Laf listen - “

“No you listen Thomas - “

“Laf please! I wasn’t doing this intentionally! I - I know Alex gets jealous and it’s always funny - not funny, but like, you know how he is when he’s jealous, and he gets jealous over simple things! I just,” Thomas blushed, “I don’t know, we’d been arguing and I was getting scared of where our relationship was going and this was my dumbass way of seeing if he still cared.”

“Yes, he still cares about you. He does so much seeing you flirt with someone else right in front of him drove him away. So you better stop stumbling over your words and go make it up to Alex, cause if I hear about one more tear coming from Alex that isn’t because of pleasure, twin or not, I can and will ruin your life.” Laf turned, skirt sweeping dramatically behind him as he walked back.

God what had Thomas done? 

~     ~     ~

“A-Alexander?” Alex sniffled, wiping away his tears, throwing his outfit into his hamper. 

“What Jefferson?” Thomas flinched, hating the anger laced in Alex’s voice.

“Baby, look I’m so sorry - “

“Thomas, just, don’t, okay? Look I - I know I’m not perfect, I know I may not be good enough but please, if you’re going to - to be like this, just dump me. Don’t string me out, don’t - don’t break my heart and leave it, please.”

Thomas felt his own heart breaking, shattering beyond fix as he watched Alex look at him, eyes full of hurt, full of fear. Thomas was pissed at himself.

“God, no, Alex, I love you. I do.” Alex scoffed, “Yeah, but loving someone doesn’t mean flirting with other people.”

“No no I know I know I just,” Thomas pulled the crown off of his head, “I love you so much. More, than words can describe. And, with the stress we’d both been under, the arguements, I was scared. I was scared you were losing interest, that you and John were going to be picking up where I lacked, and I wanted to prove to myself you still cared.” 

“You were always so cute jealous and I thought - if I made you jealous, you’d storm over, you’d do your cute rant, your face would turn red and we’d come home, and I’d stop doubting myself. I never meant to hurt you - but, you know I don’t think things through!” He ran his hands through his curls best he could.

“Alex, I would never cheat on you. I’d never hurt you like that. I swear on my father’s grave, what I did was beyond stupid and I don’t know why I thought it was smart. But, Alex please, I love you so, so so much.”

“I love you too…” His voice was quiet, “You could have talked to me, you could have asked or - or said literally anything!”

Thomas nodded. “I know, I know. And - And I regret what I did, talking to her, flirting with her, I felt so uncomfortable. She’s just like Sam, she agrees with anything I say, changing her opinion to match mine, she doesn’t even live up to even the slightest bit of you. The whole time I kept picturing you, how you’d respond, how you’d act and what you’d say. I got so distracted thinking about you I - I hadn’t noticed anything wrong, really.”

“Thinking about how I’d act? Act to what? Your dumbass pick up lines?”

Thomas feigned hurt. “Dumbass pick up lines? Excuse me, I am amazing.”

Alex snorted. “Okay sure, your pick up lines suck worse every time you use them.”

“I have a good one in mind, and now I don’t even want to use it.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Then don’t.”

A pause.

“Okay you’ve convinced me.” Alex’s breathy laugh made him smile, and he sauntered up, arms lacing slowly across Alex’s shoulders, “You’re a fox, looking pretty good in your frocks, how ‘bout later we strip down to our socks.”

Alex stared at him, before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God, Thomas, what the hell?”

Thomas grinned triumphantly, “There’s that smile I fell in love with…”

Alex shook his head, wiping a few stray tears away. “Why do I date you?”

Thomas shrugged, “You love me.”

~     ~     ~     ~    ~

Too cheesy of an ending? I was going to make it sad but I couldn’t do that to my poor baby alex 

Okay so I know Enjolras is usually headcanoned to be more straight laced, hate Grantaire’s habitual smoking and drinking, and all that. But.

Enjolras is a revolutionary who died fighting to give France back to the people. Today he’d be starting riots and trying to overthrow corrupted officials, not necessarily marching in peaceful protest. 

Which also means that he isn’t some uptight, organized person either.

He’s probably had his fair share of illegal substances, of tough nights spent with prison fights, and losing himself to his cause.

I need more of Enjolras who smokes and swears like a goddamn sailor and who’s broken more bones (not his own) than he can count.

How else would he have met the band of misfits that are just as driven as himself that they’d lose tooth and limb for a society so ideal it’s almost delusional? Why do you think Grantaire thinks that way anyway? Yeah, R’s pessimistic, but he wouldn’t relentlessly combat their cause unless he thought it was too far fetched.

Tl;dr: I need more hardass punk Enjolras