1. Be disgusted by the erasure of sexual orientation. Find out that many Gency fans are not straight. Call them “straighties” anyway.
2. Find out that many Gency shippers ship homosexual ships as well, such as Mchanzo and Pharmmetra. Call them homophobic anyway.
3. Understand that Gency is an interracial ship and that Asian men are rarely paired romantically with white women in American culture. Ignore these merits and call the ship racist anyway.
4. Agree that writers shouldn’t necessarily give into pressure based on fans flooding them with comments and popularity polls. Many writers have made unpopular decisions that you agree with like killing off a character or making a lead in their next work female. Ignore this and get mad that Michael Chu won’t make ships canon based on popularity anyway.
5. Be a huge advocate against racism. Believe Michael Chu identifies as Genji just because they are both Asian anyway.
6. Tag Gency hate in the Gency tag and write long posts about how terrible the fans and ship are. When Gency fans respond, call them “toxic” anyway.
7. Rage about your ship not being canon. When a Gency fan responds, say, “The straights are angry” anyway. Return to ranting a minute later.
8. Love that Michael Chu and the writers made Overwatch’s mascot character a lesbian. Treat Michel Chu like a homophobe anyway.
9. Understand that Mercy is no longer Genji’s doctor. Treat it as an unethical doctor x patient relationship anyway.
If you’ve managed all nine steps then… CONGRATULATIONS! You are ready to take your hatred for Gency to the next level.
24 is your age and you wouldn’t be able to tell by the smooth blush of your cheek, the constellation-kissed skin of your nose. you could be fifteen by the shrug of your blazer around your narrow shoulders, but you’re 24 and you’re too old to be playing the spy.
18 is the number of steps to the basement. 18 is the one-two one-two click of kitten heels on dirty cement and side-step around a white collared, glossy-badged senior agent who doesn’t even see you because you’re 18 steps closer to below ground, 18 steps closer to the invisibility he wears like a cloak, 18 steps closer.
7 seconds is how long he shakes your hand, swings it back and forth like a play-ground swing. he feeds you lines from your thesis, knew your mind before he knew your face. the projector paints you in the supernatural. you blink against the light when he smiles.
3 is the number of syllables he drawls into “plausible” like he’s reversing the definition. he’s a half-finished magic trick, and you watch him to try and catch him stutter in his sleight of hand.
30000 feet is how high you are above the ground and you were always endlessly earthbound, sea-legs, rock of the tide. he closes his eyes, stretches across the seat across the aisle like he owns it, like it’s his own leather couch (and you don’t know if he has a leather couch, but you think he should) and you think you like that, the way he touches things like they’re already familiar.
295 miles is the length of oregon east to west, sunrise to sunset. he drives with one hand on the wheel and asks you about eschatology. you’re not squeamish about these things, but your stomach does a half-turn low in your abdomen every quarter of a mile. you laugh and the window sends it back to you packaged like an echo.
1 is the number of possible alien bodies you discover in a cracked casket. it is a marked increase from the number you expected. you push your glasses up higher on your nose and tell him so with the slant of your gaze.
11 pm is the time it is when you turn him away from your door, bouncing on his heels like a beta wave that’s breaking away from its core. you rub the curtains through your hands, paperback pages between your thumb and forefinger, and lose sight of him across the dark, wet horizon.
5 is the number on his motel door when you knock out a nervous rhythm against the wood. three, you think, was the number of spots clustered low on the base of your spine and years from now you’ll think - you’ll think something must have changed, a realignment of poles, when he pressed candle-warmed fingers to the skin just above the dip of your hips: the place on your skin you’d deemed its own x-file. and it’s fitting, it’s somehow un-ironic, that this inexplicable spot is the first place he touches you.
200 is the thread count of the motel sheets. they are seedy love-affair sheets, dime-store romance cotton made to be used, abused, tangled and gripped in fists. they are secret-telling sheets, and he lowers his voice against the side of the bed. you rest your cheek on your hand while the moon plays the mathematician against the curve of his jaw, calculating angles on the lines of his cheeks. he tells you stories without endings until the phone rings.
113 is the number of raindrops that fall per square foot per second during a thunderstorm. but the number feels exponential, raised to a higher degree in the early morning of an oregon graveyard. your logic presses against his hypothetical like trees blown together against wind. twin smiles crack across your faces like lightning. you laugh in tandem and, even for a scientist, the decibels are incalculable.
12 is the number of impossible tasks hercules overcame to obtain salvation. your mind dwells on myth but functions in rationale; he speaks in legends and twists tales with his tongue. you put down the phone and pick up your weapons. this is the numerology of beginnings. this is step one.
nine is the number of minutes you lose when you look at him (episode 1) // j.a.s
Thomas took you out to get your nails done and anything else you wanted in preparation for the party. He offered for you to get your hair and makeup done, but you insisted, it was okay. You’d be fine doing it on your own.
Two hundred and twenty one b is my original sanctum sanctorum. It is the only aspect of my life in London I truly missed…two hundred and twenty one b is a good deal more than nice Watson. I spent the better part of ten years transforming it into a virtual womb of creativity, stepping inside it is not unlike stepping inside my very own brain. You will no doubt see things that will confuse or even upset you, odd experiments, texts in dead languages, trophies from old cases.
What are the Chocobros afraid of? And how would their s/o help them with it? Also your Blog is awesome keep it up friend <3
Ahhh thank you so much!
Noctis, as a child, had a fear of suits of armor. And the strange thing was, while he was a little spooked by people wearing armor, he was a lot more afraid of armor set up on display.
That fear never left him and it carried on into his adulthood. He might not fear people wearing them now, but empty suits he can’t stand. He’s uneasy around them and he could swear any room with one in it grew cold.
He always expects one to turn it’s head towards him (sometimes he could swear one has done exactly that, or to start walking- honestly he expects one to get up just to attack him.
Noctis will be hard-pressed to admit it, it’s embarrassing for sure. But you notice any one of the few times you’ve ever had to pass any that Noctis tends to grip tightly onto the fabric covering over your back, ducking ever so slightly, and seems to be trying to hide behind you much like a scared child would. As long as it made him feel more at ease, than all you have to do is let him keep trailing behind you like a shadow in moments like these.
Ignis doesn’t normally let any of his fears be known to most anyone. He has a few, but as to what they are is anyone’s guess.
However one thing you came to notice was that he often seemed really tense and stiff around… dolls.
He doesn’t like husk, rag or burlap dolls, he especially doesn’t like those old bisque ones. And it didn’t matter what they looked like either; they could be a pretty bride or a clown (they were equally as bad), jesters were no different, but somehow the baby and child dolls almost seemed worse. And he could swear that he felt the eyes of what he could only describe as something purely evil on him and following his every move. Every doll was a cursed one…
He knows it’s odd and irrational, but there’s not much to really do to help him. He’d rather avoid seeing those heinous things if he can so if you have them then stored away will be nice. But if you must display them then he’ll just deal with their presence.
The big guy keeps trying to say he’s not really afraid of much. You know deep down Gladio is afraid of failure (one loss and it weighs on his mind) but that one anyone could guess. It was a common fear anyways, but having that importance placed on his shoulders… But you wanted to know what else got to him… Curiosity killed the cat.
You found out alright. You and Gladio went into a cave just to scope it out a little. Maybe just nine steps in when a colony of bats came flying down and you had never seen Gladio flail around so much in your life, nor heard him shrieking yelling so much either.
“I’m not scared.” he says, “Just got startled is all.” “Then why are we leaving?” He shot you a glare. You had a sneaking suspicion as to why…
You ended up pressing him further, arguing that bats were even kind of cute. “They’re little daemon mice out for blood, looking for the first warm thing with their beady little eyes just so they can swarm, sink their jagged little fangs into to and eat. That’s not cute.”
Poor bats, they’re just as afraid of him as he is of them. And part of his fear, from what you can gather from talking to him, seems to mostly stem from his lack of knowledge on them. And all you can do about that is to just try to show a different side to them, providing he wants to listen.
Prompto has a lot of fears. He hates small spaces, he hates bugs and arachnids, he hates the dark, he always has that thought that everyone will eventually leave him, he doesn’t want to be forgotten, and the list goes on. But despite that he always puts on a brave face and steps forward every single day.
He powers through his own fears pretty well, all while openly admitting his fears and phobias. So really, you came to knowing them right off because of that.
He tries to not ever pester to get anyone to go out of their way for him. But if you want to do something to help him then start killing the house spiders/bugs or trapping them under a glass and taking them out. Start carrying around a small flashlight in your pockets for when things suddenly go dark. Cramped up in a place small and full of people? Then you might be able to step him away from that, if not then let him squeeze onto your hand and keep assuring him that he’s doing fine and he’ll be out of there soon enough. Always keep reminding him to take slow and deep breaths and to keep doing the breathing exercises.
When it comes time to him wanting to face them, you’ll probably have to help him find controlled ways to do them (afterall facing the dark won’t do good if you just run into any ol cave). The harder one to do is when he’s ready to face spiders is finding someone with friendly tarantulas, and keep him from talking himself out of meeting the big hairy buddies.
Hello! I’ve gotten a lot of questions on how I edit/color my photos so I’ve decided to just make a tutorial! Also, just a needed fair warning: I suck at explaining basically anything and it might be super messy, but I’ll try to get everything across! Hope you all are having a great Memorial Day/Monday! ❤
Slightly dodgy kettle stitch/coptic binding sketchbook making tutorial!
Nobody ever said that your sketchbook binding had to be neat. Well, they might have done, but not in my hearing. So here’s a slightly dodgy, but really not too difficult sketchbook making tutorial. In it, you’ll learn how to cobble together a sketchbook like the one above in pretty short time using a messy version of kettle stitch/coptic binding!
It’s years of hurt and healed over heartbreak before Jack Zimmermann sits Kent Parson down in a coffee shop in Providence the morning after a drag out game and makes amends.
They sit in silence with their coffee for longer than is comfortable before Jack musters up the courage to say, ‘Listen. So as a part of my program—you know—as a part of getting sober and staying sober, I’m supposed to make amends.’
Parse raises one meticulously groomed eyebrow. Jack pushes forward.
‘Basically I’m supposed to say I’m sorry to the people my addiction might have hurt, um, that I hurt and you don’t have to but I’m really hoping you’ll hear me out.’
‘Seems a little late for that,’ Parse says but he doesn’t sound unkind, just tired.
‘I know,’ Jack says. ‘It’s on the list.’ And honest to god pulls out a note pad.
Parse laughs because it’s funny and because if he doesn’t he’ll cry. Jack laughs too.
‘This is gonna be good for us,’ he says. ‘It’s time to get some closure.’ Kent nods.
‘There are a lot things. Some are big and some are small and they’re supposed to be about my addiction but I think we both know the hurt goes deeper than that so, um, here we go I guess.’ Jack clears his throat, then looks at Kent very purposefully.
He says, ‘I’m sorry I let you feel responsible for me. I knew then and I know now that you were doing the best you could to cope with a really messy situation, and I’m sorry I let you feel guilty when you couldn’t handle my mental health and addiction by yourself.’ Kent nods, lips tight
‘And I’m sorry I overdosed on what should have been one of the best days of both our lives. I mean I didn’t do it on purpose but that wasn’t how that day was supposed to go. The draft was supposed to be our triumph.’ Kent looks hard but Jack thinks he sees tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. Maybe he should stop, but he’s gone this far. He deserves to hear this, Jack thinks, and presses on. ‘I’m sorry I told you you couldn’t come out because I was scared of the rumors. I’m still scared but you deserve to come out if you’re ready.’
Kent is actually crying now, silently but visibly all the same, tears rolling down the pink of his cheeks.
‘I’m sorry for every time I kissed you, and kissed you back, and you know, did more than that, when I wasn’t ready to deal with it and I’m sorry I always ran away or snuck away afterwards. I’m sorry I used to call you at 3 am and leave you weird voicemails. I should have just told you I missed you.’ Kent gives him a shaky smile.
‘I’m sorry I shut you out of my life for years without warning or explanation. I thought I needed to leave you behind to heal. I guess we’ll never know if I was right but it was unfair all the same. I wish I had told you why.’ Kent nods, but doesn’t say anything. ‘I’m sorry I used to hide pills in your bag without telling you. That was fucked up. A lot of things were fucked up. I’m sorry I was mad at you for winning the Stanley Cup with out me—showing up unannounced was kind of rude but I was vicious about it because I was jealous and because it confirmed all the moments I ever thought maybe my dad wished he’d gotten you instead. I’m sorry I got mad when my dad was nice to you—god I was so scared he didn’t want me.’ He looks back up at Kenny who’s finally stopped crying, and braces himself to finish making amends.
‘I’m sorry I never told you I loved you. I swear to you Kenny I did. I wasn’t very good at it but I loved you so much. I’m sorry I never told you that I loved you and I’m sorry that later I told you I never had. I really wanted that to be true at the time. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all these things earlier. I was scared of seeing you and getting caught up in all our old shit. I was scared.’
Kent looks at Jack for a long time. ‘’I’m sorry, too,’ he says. ‘Are you really cool if I come out? Cause I’d like to, Zimms. I’d really like to.’
how i do energy readings+advice on how to do energy readings
i received two anons asking if i could give advice when it comes to energy readings, and how exactly i do them. ever since i opened up energy readings they have blown up quite a bit in popularity and i am both flattered and pretty stunned! this was a very new thing for me, so thank you to everyone who was interested!
now, on to question one: how exactly do i do my energy readings?
first i’ll explain my step-by-step process, and then i’ll break everything down.
note: under the cut has steps four through nine and my advice. everything above the cut is just a preview for what to expect.
1) first, i take some time to mull over the reading and the person who asked for one. whether anonymous or not, by checking my ask box and reading over the request every few hours after i receive them, i am able to tap into small amounts of energy that will eventually culminate into something much bigger.
note: if somebody comes to me and they are not on anonymous, i never, ever look at their blog, or hover over their icon to see their blog’s info. thankfully, this is not something that i have to stop myself from doing- it’s just a habit i never developed. but by intentionally not looking at their blog, i won’t be biased in my reading. we can sit here and go on and on about how the energies we receive and the writings we type up are done 100% blindly, but that simply isn’t the case. a person’s icon can instill biases into us, including myself, so looking at their blog can cause even more biased disruptions- hence why i stay far away from them.
2) second, i prepare myself for the reading. i don’t light candles or incense- i just take off my glasses, sit upright, shut my eyes, and concentrate.
3) third, i begin to meditate. this part is key- by at least clearing my mind, i am opening myself up to receiving information.
wanna read the rest of this incredibly long post??? everything else is below the cut.
Fair Warning!!! Only use this spell if someone has truly done you wrong and caused you much pain.
To cast this spell write the person’s name on a 3″ x3″ piece of paper with a black marker or pen. Also have a piece of black yarn.
Concentrate on that person. Now draw 3 X’s on that person’s name.
Next fold the paper three times and take the black yarn and tie the paper with it. Raise it above your head and whisper the words below three times:
“Starting now I will
be protected from you,
This magic spell I will do,
With this spell I shall bind thee,
From now on you will let me be,
I as of now am protected from your harm,
I seal this hex with my charm.
It is you that will suffer and cry out in pain
It is you that will suffer and write in pain”.
Now drop the paper to the ground and using your right shoe step on the paper nine times As you slam it the ninth time say…
“From this moment pain you shall feel
I have spoken these words,
words that are real
I have spoken these words and
so mote it be!”
Okay so here’s a bad attempt at a colorizing tutorial.. i use ipiccy.com for this because i want you guys to be able edit as well without paying for the newest, best photoshop. ps. ipiccy is free so yeah good shit right there
okay step 1: you’re going to go into the “professional touch ups” area, the icon should be a face. you’re going to want to choose the “sunny tan” (lol that name tho) and choose the center color because it is both red and yellow toned. and fill in her face and neck and whatever
you’ll see that the color is too harsh against the hair so we’re going to take the erase tool which i have clicked on in the screen shot
and you’re going to make your tool really big so that you can do a sort of “blending” effect into the rest of the hair, cuz we gonna do the hair laterr
step two: go to the little icon that looks like a dslr camera and find the curves tool we’re going to be using this for basically everything else
we’re going to be adding natural tones into the skin so i started with the “green channel” and “red channel” and you’re going to add this to the high points on the face (kind of like highlighting)
and make sure you blend this out as well you don’t want her looking crazy af
do the same with the blush
should look a little something like this.
step three: lips. ooh lalalalalalalal look at them lips okay anyway. yeah you can go crazy and do whatever the fuck you want. like whatever color you want.
step four: eye shadow time. ariana likes her warm, red, pink eyeshadow. so thats what i usually try to create. and you can add some other colors in her crease as well (this is actually a makeup tutorial y’all). do whatever the fuck you want lol such good tutorial but you can use the curves tool for this as well
step five: fix them brows. they too crazy. tone them down with a little black and white filter.
step six: time to do that hair. go back to the face icon on the top and find the “hair color” i usually go for a brunette type deal so yeah you can use the curves tool for this if you wanna do something else idk
then i just went in and added highlights and low lights, but i didnt catch that on screenshot so yeah fail.com
step seven: you want to find small details that need to be colored in like the glasses on her shirt. you can keep them silver or gold…i went for like a rose gold thing so yeah
ok we almost done but step 8: fix that damn skin tone. she look dead af. go back to the dslr looking icon and find the color balance. make it a little red and a little yellow. make sure you fade this out or else she gonna be looking like donald trump with too many spray tans and no one wants that. no one.
before adding the color
okay step nine: color in her eyes. my lazy ass uses the hair color tool again although you can use anything you want. just make those eyes brown
last step is pretty chill just go back to the curves tool and change the tones to blend everything together. like add more contrast to the overall image or add a filter over it idc. be creative
i’ll post the final image after i post this “tutorial”
Black hounds are the guardians of the cemetery, the keepers of the gates and the denizens of the cross roads. Their flesh is desiccated and rotted, and the carry with them the stench of death and decay. The necromancer makes good use of them as servitors, to guard their items, ward off intruders or haunt those who’d oppose them.
Let only the initiated attempt this, should the novice not bring harm to themselves. Sources: Folklore of Cornwall (Tony, 2003), Mythology: Timeless Stories of Gods and Heroes (Hamilton, 1942), Dictionary of Northern Mythology (Simek, 1993), The Practice of Magical Evocation (Bardon, 1991), Fourth Book of Agrippa (1559), De Nigromancia (Bacon, 1988), Forbidden Rites (Kieckhefer, 1997), Crowley Goetia (Crowley, 1904)
Having abstained for three days from bathing and eating (to protect the magus from the hounds), with the third landing on the new moon; the necromancer will be ready to conjure the black hounds.
Let it be noted that once this spell is complete the first time, this abstinence will no longer be necessary, the hound will be bound to your service and thus can not harm you so long as you wield the blade (see below).
In a red pigment, and using a brush made of human hair, the magus writes these names on one side of a blade:
and upon the other side:
TE LIGO CANEM NIGRUM (I bind you, black hound)
Having done this, the magus takes a bone like the femur of a large beast or man, the magus writes:
ET REGNUM MORTUS VINCENT (may the kingdom of death come forth).
Having consecrated these items with their incantations and nine times having drawn the equal armed cross over the tools (an old sign, signifying the crossroads, made with the voorish sign in the left hand), they will be ready for the conjuration.
Taking these things ash of hound, war water and chalk down to a natural portal (being Crossroads, Cemeteries and Mausoleums), the necromancer can begin the summoning, but only should the time be between 12 AM and 4 PM, and no sun be seen.
A circle of of nine steps in diameter is drawn upon the floor, and within it they cast the Tridecagon.
To the west is drawn a circle of Five steps, and within it a triangle, with a point facing east. On the outer borders of the triangle, these names are written (clockwise): FENRIR+GWYLLGI+CERBERUS+ (with the + being located on each vertex, and the names on the sides).
Within the triangle, the magus pours ash of hound, hydrates it with war water (aligned with MARS, planetary ruler of war), and animates it with blood (Iron in the blood to further push a mars alignment and to symbolically give life to the hounds).
Retiring back to the Tridecagon, the necromancer takes good care to raise the circle well, that the hounds do not cause some great harm upon the self.
Taking up the bone scepter, the magus cries out thirteen times the first conjuration to the east:
“I summon, conjure and evoke thee O’ raging hounds of the underworld, and adjure thee to come quickly,
by the names of thy exalted and divine sires,
by whom you were conceived in the cold darkness of death and to whom you are bound to serve: FENRIR+GWYLLGI+CERBERUS+
to come forth and manifest thyself, To pact with me and obey my commands!
The magus sets the sceptre down in the middle of the circle, and walks around it thrice clockwise and finishing in the west, facing out.
The magus prays the second conjuration thrice:
“I conjure and adjure you,
by the servitude you owe to the names of your sires,
from who’s seed you were born in the cold expanses of death with ne'er a tit to suck.
Come now savage and starved wolves on thy rotted paws and ancient bones,
rise from the ashes and blood of resurrection and up from the gaping maws of the earth.”
And when this is done, the magus crosses to the east and recites it thrice more. The magus will turn west again to see one, or perhaps even a pack of black hounds, in or around the circle of evocation.
The necromancer raises their blade and plunges it into the earth, just beyond the circle and asks:
“Would you, O’ Cŵn Annwn,
Speak, listen and obey,
And swear that
They who possess this blade
And know thy name,
May conjure you up from the gates of death?”
And the beast will take the blade by the handle and say:
“I swear on this blade
My servitude unto you
Who knows my name __
And holds this blade
If you swear
To nourish me at every call
We have a deal”
And the magus must say:
And the hounds will dissipate. And should you strike the blade into the ground with the scepter as a hammer and call it’s name with every strike, so long as the sun has gone, they will come to you, and you will soon endure some great pains or heavy lethargy.
To treat this, cast the circles again, and after having written the name of the beast on a white cloth and wrapping it round the blade’s handle, the magus pours ash of hound, war water and then gives sacrifice of a old white hare into the evoking circle, whist saying: “__ , take this spirit to satiate your hunger, and drink deeply of it’s milk, that when you come to me, it shall be without harm”. The magus then ties the sullied cloth to the handle, to serve as a reminder of your payment.
Series: Fairy Tail. AU: Figure Skating, Modern; Fake Dating to Lovers. Romantic Pairing: Gruvia. Other Pairings: Gray/Silver, Juvia/Silver, Juvia/Gajeel. Rating: T+ - language, alcohol, adult themes. Genre(s): Romance, Drama. Read other chapters: here.
A/N: I’m so, so sorry for the long delay. I have been really scatterbrained lately and not feeling very creative. I visit the USA for a month on the 30th of June and will be totally free to just relax and write. Thanks for being so patient and wonderful with me.
;Cutting me up like a knife and I feel it deep in my bones. Kicking it high but I love even harder. You wanna know? I just wanna dive in the water with you. Baby, we can’t see the bottom. It’s so easy to fall for each other. I’m just hoping we catch one another.
Chapter Nine: A Step Too Far
Juvia lowered herself into the centre splits. The ache of unused muscles vanished in an instant. Lowering her chest to the ground, she reached with both hands towards the rink. The warmth of the stretch spread and tingled in her thighs. She relished that feeling.
Gray stared at her in astonishment. ‘When did you become that flexible?’
‘I’ve always been this flexible,’ she told him.
Gray blinked. ‘Are you sure?’
Juvia met his gaze. ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked him.
Gray cleared his throat. ‘Long day.’
‘Paparazzi?’ she asked.
‘Did they harass you here?’ Gray crouched to sit beside her. ‘Are they getting in the way?’
‘No.’ Juvia shook her head. ‘They don’t seem to bother Juvia here. Some of the customers ask about you, though. Ah.’ She straightened to look at him. ‘I promised one of the mothers I would get your autograph.’ Juvia tightened the elastic in her hair. ‘For her daughter,’ she amended.
‘Sure.’ Gray paused. ‘So, how was work today?’ he asked, glancing through the window into the reception beyond it. His gaze snapped back to hers.
‘It was quiet.’
‘Did you get a chance to talk to Gajeel?’
Juvia swung her legs out in front of her and bounced them to relieve the ache in her muscles. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You said you wanted to see him, didn’t you?’
‘Oh.’ Juvia’s heart sank. ‘I called him. He didn’t have long to talk.’
You climb into the car next to Harrison. Unable to sit still, you start to tap your leg up and down. You weren’t quite sure of all the emotions that you were feeling, but there was one you could pick out rather easily.
The trip to the hotel was a quick one, you and Harrison making small talk about Tom’s up-and-coming movie. The giddiness inside refused to go away, not that you really minded. Not even the jetlag could bring you down.
“He’s really missed you… I’m so done with hearing him talk about you, or moaning that you’re not there to cuddle, no offence,” Harrison chuckles, running his fingers through his blonde hair.
“None taken, I’m sure most of my friends feel the same way,” you smile, still bouncing that knee up and down.
“Jacob and I worked this all out. He has absolutely no idea that you’re here, and won’t until the very second you go up to his room,” Harrison explains. The car comes to a stop outside of a hotel.
Jacob stands waiting for the two of you, and you both hop out. The driver comes around, taking your two suitcases out of the back of the cab before handing them to you.
“So we talked to the management and we thought that you could surprise him by acting as room service. He’s probably fast asleep, it was another late night again.”
Harrison says, and you nod along.
“Let’s get you started,” Harrison grabs your arm, pulling you into the hotel.
Twenty minutes later, you stand in front of the mirror. A yawn escapes your lips as you straighten out the blue cleaning uniform.
“You ready?” Jacob calls through the door.
Standing tall, you walk towards the wooden door. Jacob and Harrison wait patiently on the other side of the door.
“Ready to go?” Harrison asks, handing you a single cup of coffee.
The pair silently leads you up the stairs, to the nearest escalator.
“We’ll leave you here, you’ll find your way from here. Room three hundred, thirty-two on the third floor. Here are the keys.”
With that, the pair leaves you to your own thoughts.
You climb in the elevator, nerves taking over you. There isn’t really a reason to be nervous, but the butterflies still swarm in your stomach.
The ride ends, and you take the few steps from the escalator.
Three hundred and thirty-two.
Sticking the key into the door, you hear the soft click before twisting the knob and stepping into the room. It’s silent, the only noise in the room being the occasional soft snore.
Tiptoeing through the room, you slowly approach the brown-haired male on the bed. Placing the cup down on the bedside table, you sit down on the bed gently.
“Honey,” you mumble, running your fingers through your boyfriend’s hair.
Tom mumbles something incoherent, his brown eyes opening. It takes him a few seconds to realise that you’re there in front of him.
“Hmm?” He jumps up, his back straightening. A sleepy smile makes a way onto his adorable face.
He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a slightly uncomfortable position. You lift yourself up, wrapping your arms around him as you dig your face into his neck.
“I missed you,” you confess, finally content.
Tom yawns, “I missed you too.”
The boy kisses the top of your head, “I’m going to fall asleep.”
The waves of jetlag wash over you, “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Tom smiles, cuddling you as tight as he possibly can.
“Please don’t be a dream,” is the last thing you hear from Tom’s lips as you fall asleep.
A/N: *Awkwardly dusts off screen. So, um…Hi. I know this is a bit of a sudden post from me, but I did promise I would make this fic on the, now disbanded, emergenji discord server. I’m sorry I took so long to make this, but I hope I make up for it with this fic. I am going to write both a reception fic, full of speeches, dancing, and more fluff, and maybe an NSFW wedding night fic. For now, here is my own version of a Gency Wedding.