#ofsugarandice

          When the song ends it’s Giselle that’s cheering the loudest, skin covered by a light sheen of sweat. To say she’s danced her ass off from the start of his set until the end is quite the apt description, the bottle of water she’d bought killed long before he had wrapped it up. She waits her turn as he’s swarmed by his crew, congratulatory daps, hugs, and claps on the back given. The moment his arms are free she’s launching herself into them, hugging him as tight as she can. Never mind the fact that they’re both sweaty messes.

He sat on the edge of a slightly worn, horribly pink couch. Who it belonged to, he didn’t know. Most likely some rich, white man with a bull’s skill necktie of some kind. A big-haired, big-titted broad with an orange tan and a cigarette always in her right hand. Tacky. Like the hotel. But it was what was vacant, and it was in Sin City, where he had plans to reap the rewards of the sheep who flocked there. This time, Velius had something different, and Vegas had something for her.

        This was probably one of her more poorly thought out ideas. Josephine had always gone to great lengths to achieve what she wanted, but the moment she’d crossed the threshold of the disreputable pub, she wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake in coming here. It was the sort of place that made Knockturn Alley seem almost friendly, and Jo was struck almost immediately by how out of place she must have looked amongst the pub’s more troublesome patrons. Her presence hadn’t gone unnoticed by the occupants of the pub either, and she cursed herself for not thinking to blend in more adequately. It would be difficult to quietly glean information when she was being observed so closely.

        Nevertheless, she shrugged her coat off and found a place to sit back against the wall, where she could easily see her surroundings. Jo kept her head down, but her deep blue eyes took in the people around her. Her fingers ran gently over the locket at her necklace  --  a reminder of why she was doing all of this in the first place  --  and she managed to pull some strength from the gesture. 

send ‘&’ for 3 blogs i recommend | anon | accepting

@likehiisfather / @damnbutcher / @ofsugarandice / [insert twenty more of glitzy’s amazing blogs here] - Glitzy, glitzy, glitzy you are a phenomenal writer. I’ve admired your writing for however long we’ve been mutuals. It’s the kind of writing where you don’t need to know the character to enjoy it (let’s be real, by the time they’re done reading your work they’ll be diving into that fandom). You have the rare ability to take seemingly unredeemable assholes *cough* season 1 Charles Vane *cough* and make the readers, maybe not like the character but they understand their motives, and what makes them tick. We don’t talk very often but just know that your blogs are one of my ‘must haves’ on any dash.

@thepromiseofredemption - Not gonna lie, Emily when I first watched the trilogy I was very indifferent to James’ character. I think it was because he was strongly overshadowed by Jack Sparrow (it happens. he has a pretty big shadow). But since I’ve known you I’ve grown to love the bean pole in all his angsty glory. You’re a positive force in this fandom and someone who I am glad to be able to call a friend. 

cont. from (x)

@ofsugarandice

Talking to Daniel was like talking to a friend, but the sort of friend you were more attached to than they were to you; the kind of friend who liked you well enough, and wanted you to feel liked in return without actually doing it. She felt almost tolerated. Tolerated on the kindest, most hospitable level. A distant relative, doing the job no one else could. If someone else could take her off his hands, could help her like he was helping her, Mary doubted she’d still be sitting with him, his mother’s special hot cocoa recipe warm against her palms. 

Still, she was grateful to be with him. If only he didn’t make her stomach feel that way.

“After my father passed-”

She blinked, slow. Daniel never spoke about himself. Not really. He talked about little things. Favorite colors. Animals. Movies maybe. Books, definitely. But mostly, they just talked about her. Always helping her. Always fixing her. So to hear Daniel speak about his past (even a little) was a rare window into a well-armed house.  Mary was dumb, but she could be careful if she wanted to. After a small sip (it was still too hot for big gulps), her voice was light and feathery as she said, “I think I’d like your mom. She sounds...” She shrugged and smiled. “Like a badass.” A small giggle. “A nice one, though.”

          it had been a long week. sophie may have adored her job and the children she worked with, but it would have been a lie to say that she didn’t find it quite draining at times. children, particularly first graders, had far more energy than she could ever hope to possess after thirty years of life, and it took every ounce of her own energy just to try to keep up. that being said, sophie knew she wouldn’t have traded her position at the elementary school for the world. it gave her life meaning, and she was proud of that.

          but it did mean that come friday afternoon, she was greatly in need of a rejuvenation of sorts. that typically came in the form of a few hours spent at her favorite coffee shop. it was well within walking distance of her apartment, and had far better coffee than most of the mainstream coffee joints, in her humble opinion.

          placing her usual order, sophie headed to the counter at the end to wait. as she did so, she pulled out the book that had been tucked under her arm and flipped it open, determined to read at least a page or two before she was served. only when the barista called her name ( and the name of one other, although she hadn’t paid much attention to that ) did she look up. with a smile, she took the last remaining cup on the counter and had just about taken a drink from it when she caught the cursive scrawled across the side: edward. 

          It was the sound of laughter that pulled the woman in the direction of the bar; merriment and good cheer was exactly the ‘ homecoming ’ she needed. Warmth washed over her as she stepped inside and quite happily did she bask in it. The feeling was akin to pulling on a favorite sweater you had no intention of parting with no matter how badly it was coming apart at the seams.

         Carefully she wound herself around the patrons, ducking low under the arm of a man getting ready to return to his table with another round of drinks. It was with laughter in her voice that she apologized earnestly as she sidled up to the bar, lithe fingers tapping lightly against the polished wood as she leaned forward with a touch of childish excitement.