not for you =o

here, have a preview of twist tie, the long (long, long, long) awaited next installment of the chaos theory series:

Scabior slowly turns around, reasonably sure that whoever’s shouting is shouting at him—there’s a really tragic shortage of plaid at this particular party—but then he’s freezing, immediately squeezing a third Jell-O shot into his mouth, bypassing his tongue altogether, and his gag reflex is kicking in and his eyes are watering and he’s coughing up what feels like most of a lung and—

A girl.

It’s a girl.

A girl with copper-red hair, thick and shiny in a wave down to the middle of her back, and a barely-there summer tan that can’t quite cover the freckles on her nose, her cheeks, the tops of her bare shoulders. She's—cute. The kind of pretty that’s friendly and approachable and, like, destined to meet her soulmate in a dog park. Low-maintenance. She’s wearing tiny denim cut-offs and cherry red Chucks. Her eyes are a bright, vibrant brown, and the softness of her face—the delicacy of her features—it’s all offset by the unexpectedly smug slant of her smile.

“Well?” she drawls, holding up a ping pong ball and a half-empty bottle of Corona. “You coming?”

He audibly swallows. “Uh,” he says, ignoring the sugar-spiked splash of vodka burning the back of his throat. “Yeah? Yes?”

She snorts, looking kind of impressively unimpressed. “College rules, okay? Hurry up.”

He tilts his head to the side as he watches her leave. He should probably ask her how old she is, but, like—be smoother about it? Carding hook-ups is the kind of thing only Dolohov can get away with because Dolohov is, like, six-foot-infinity and built like a brick shithouse and also has a gravelly mobster accent, a closet full of designer leather jackets, and a really transparent propensity to brood in the shadows with his neverending well of man-pain.

Dolohov’s a dick, basically, what the fuck ever.  

The point, though, is that Scabior doesn’t usually have to worry about being smooth. His standards aren’t that high. This is uncharted territory.

“Just so you know,” he finally calls out, swiping one last Jell-O shot off the tray before he follows the girl into the dining room, “I’m, like, hella good at beer pong. Like—trophies. I have trophies.”

“Bullshit you do,” a new guy retorts, and—okay, whoa, there are two new guys. Twins. Identical redheaded twins. 

They’re standing behind the far side of the table, next to a stack of shiny red Solo cups, and they’re smirking at Scabior like they know something he doesn’t, which feels a little unfair. They have on matching Maryland t-shirts. They probably know lots of shit Scabior doesn’t.  

anonymous asked:

My love, I'm so sorry I haven't returned sooner, the general is working us so much harder these days. The only way I've kept going is the thought of you. I'll be home in 2 weeks, dearest. It's only 2 weeks. I've been saying that a lot, and I'm not sure if it's for my benefit of your. I must go now, darling. I'll see you in 2 weeks. Yours forever, Anon.

gasp letter anon you came back <33


Have some doodles because I need so much more with this couple–

#THE TWO GIRLS I WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT#GOD i love devorah’s design#SHE IS DROP-DEAD GORGEOUS HHHHHHHHHHH#<3 <3 <3 <3 <3#chehel will pay her ALL the compliments#that is no task at all for an Iranian#DEVORAH WILL BE A NARCISSIST IN SHORT TIME#SELF-ESTEEM WILL NO LONGER BE AN ISSUE#/shot#also i’m cracking up because when i saw helvi i immediately thought#this is why hrorek has a crush on her:#she’s clearly willing to kiss hairy things#THAT’S THE GIRL FOR HIM#/killed#(i am gonna keep beating this running joke to death IDC)


Before anyone starts with the “oh ur American hunter mindset has u obsessed with equitation”. No. I’m not American, tbh hate that scene, just wondering, genuinely fucking wondering how ye stay on the horse if something goes wrong with ur legs parallel to their back and no real contact with the horse whatsoever or how in the shit ye stay on out at cross country when a horse knocks off a fence and you’re chucked forward l m a o