pretty girl

―Same Sun Here by Neela Vaswani

it  was  an  incredibly  maddening  yet  equally  lonely  feeling  to  be  driven  by  revenge  and  hate,  yet  elliot  seemed  to  carry  that  burden  around  every  day  like  it  was  the  only  thing  that  kept  him  alive.  he  wondered  what  it  felt  like  to  not  be  weighed  down  by  something  so  heavy.  his  life  had  split  into  two  parts:  the  before  &  the  after  and  it  was  as  though  he  had  no  recollection  of  the  before.  only  the  chaos  the  events  leading  up  to  the  second  half  had  left  in  their  wake. in  the  midst  of  it  all,  he  had  discovered  he'd  been  alone  in  his  need  for  revenge  –  where  he  wanted  to  burn  the  entire  castle  down,  his  father  only  wished  for  peace.  would  he  be  dragging  his  own  blood  down  with  the  crooks  of  the  kindgom  ?  that  possibility  haunted  him  too.  yet,  he'd  managed  to  perfectly  disguise  his  motive  for  (  practically  begging  )  getting  appointed  by  the  king  himself  as  the  chef's  assistant.  lucky  the  king  was  a  self-indulgent  corrupt  asshole. it  only  bought  him  more  time  inside  &  more  information  –  information  that  would  be  crucial  to  his  final  plan.  he  would  only  allow  himself  to  think  about  the  consequences  later,  maybe  when  he  wasn't  so  blinded  by  his  own  rage.  serious  damage  control  would  be  needed.  it  was  only  his  first  week  living  at  the  castle  and  though  he'd  always  known  how  big  it  was  from  the  way  it  looked  on  the  outside,  he  felt  as  though  the  exterior  was  far  too  misleading  –  it  was  much  larger  and  much  more  complex on  the  inside.  it  was  so  easy  to  get  lost  and  when  that  usually  happened,  his  only  choice  was  to  keep  moving  forward  until  an  exit  was  in  sight.  it  usually  worked  but  today,  as  he  headed  down  yet  another  long  hall,  he  felt  as  though  it  was  neverending  like  he'd  found  the  kingdom's  very  own  maze.  he  came  to  a  halt  at  the  sight  of  her  –  the  princess.  another  name  on  the  list  and  yet  there  was  always  a  question  mark  around  her.  what  role  would  she  serve  in  all  of  this  ?  he  would  soon  find  out. an  amused  look  crossed  his  features  at  her  words,  offering  a  small  nod  in  her  direction  before  speaking,  “i'm  curious  –  what  duties  is  the  princess  exactly  off  to  all  on  her  lonesome  ?”  it  was  maybe  his  first  time  seeing  her  without  a  watchful  guard  by  her  side  and  he  wondered  if  she'd  ever  had  to  think  about  being  this  vulnerable,  if  she'd  ever  had  to  be  scared  of  it.

ANA COULDN'T HELP the cock of her brow, head tilting as she gazed at the unfamiliar male. curiosity? she wanted to personally shove an apple down her father's throat and roast him like the pig he was. why must he constantly put her in these situations? she had felt the heat of her father's anger on many occasions because of her absolute distaste for an arranged marriage. it's not that she found the chances of a love match impossible. she just simply did not want to marry. did not want to spend a single moment ruling a kingdom with a king who could very well end up being just as foul as her father. forced to carry and birth out miniature kings and queens that she'd much prefer to have a quaint life. educated and kind. not hardened and royal. "in my lonesome, you say?" she studies him for a short beat, calculating what type of suitor she was dealing with. the pretentious? the brainless? the power-hungry? "and what exactly do you mean to insinuate with such a question? do gentlemen such as yourself always have such charming first impressions or am i just lucky?" despite her lithe tone, the message was clear. i'm not interested. if only she hadn't done that 5th eye roll at her father's callousness at the breakfast table. although well deserved, she could've been taking this walk to the library five minutes earlier and not dealing with this situation. perhaps reading that herbology book she had not yet finished. if she hadn't done that final eye roll that earned her father's scorn that morning, she could have very well fled from this conversation. curse her attitude, it bites her in the ass. the sweet satisfaction of her final eye roll has turned bitter on her tongue.

was  it  technically  a  lie  ?  not  really,  she  had  heard  them  come  in  but  at  the  realization  of  what  was  about  to  take  place,  she'd  run  for  her  headphones  and  blasted  the  first  playlist  she  came  across.  the  way  he  was  being  nonchalant  about  it  seemed  to  only  heighten  her  frustration.  “not  asking  for  too  much  when  i  say  i  don't  necessarily  care  to  hear  your  one  night  stands,  am  i  ?  god,  you  can  be  so  selfish  sometimes,”  she  rolled  her  eyes,  taking  a  step  further  into  his  room.  it  wasn't  a  regular  reoccurence.  at  the  mention  of  no  longer  seeing  stacy,  peyton's  mood  noticeably  shifted  into  something  much  lighter.  “apologize  to  miss  lacey  for  me  about  having  to  relocate  somewhere  else.”

TJ COULDN'T HELP how amusing he found the entire situation. was he slightly confused about why it was such a big deal? absolutely. they had been friends for years at this point. they were bound to hear at least one hookup. especially being roommates. though, the moment he thought about possibly hearing peyton hooking up with someone... an unfamiliar pit grew in his stomach. "god, you can be so dramatic sometimes." tj mocks her voice jestfully, shuffling under his duvet so he neared the end of his bed before reaching out and gently grasping peyton's wrist. in a swift movement, he's tugging her into the bed and embracing her frame in a bit too tight bear hug. "stacy will not be happening again." he mumbles out, chin resting on the crown of her head. "shut up so i can sleep. believe it or not, we both didn't get much sleep last night." he teases. was he being a little shit? "sorry." a murmured afterthought.

DAISY EDGAR-JONES Behind the Scenes for Elle Magazine April 2025 cover

GOSSIP GIRL (2007–2012) 5.15 Crazy, Cupid, Love

“well  ?”  she  couldn't  see  where  she  went  wrong  with  her  choice  of  words,  head  jutting  out  in  feigned  cluelessness.  “i  don't  fucking  care  if  it's  stacy  from  economics  or  fucking  britney  from  accounting,”  a  lie,  a  straight  lie.  who  was  this  stacy,  anyway   ?  and  why  had  she  suddenly  broken  tate's  streak  of  very  rarely  bringing  someone  home  with  him   ?  “except  you  did  wake  me  up  last  night  and  if  that  wasn't  enough,  itched  into  my  brain  forever,  by  the  way  –  thanks  for  that  !  i  had  to  wake  up  to  a  souvenir.  honestly,  tj,  have  some  class.”  she  leaned  against  the  doorframe,  letting  out  a  slow  exhale.  “you  two  a  thing  now   ? should  i  just  prepare  myself  for  your  midnight  hookups  and  barging  in  whenever  you  two  want or should  i  start  packing  ?”

"OH-" TATE STARTS TO SPEAK, mouth opening in shock at the realization that peyton did in fact hear him and stacy the night before. he didn't know if it was more embarrassing for him or for stacy... she wasn't exactly quiet. he could breathe on her and she'd sing like a fucking canary. hence it being a one-night stand. but his demeanor easily shifts into amusement as he levels a teasing grin her way. "so that's what this is, huh? did miss james not get her beauty sleep last night?" he coos, almost mocking but not quite. "would it make you feel better if i said that stacy won't be coming over again so you can get your appointed 8 hours?" if it wasn't for his shit-eating grin and his love for giving her a hard time he'd probably be 6 ft under just from one cutting glare from peyton. bestie armor.

peyton  was  aware  the  situation  did  not  warrant  as  much  anger  as  she  was  embodying  in  that  moment,  though  she  couldn't  exactly  pinpoint  where  it  had  come  from.  she  was  disgusted,  that  much  was  obvious,  but  there  was  something  else  –  something  she  refused  to  name.  though  his  nonchalance  only  added  fuel  to  the  fire,  peyton  flinching  to  the  side  at  his  throw  of  the  pink  lacy  pair back in her face.  “well,  no  fucking  shit,  teej  !”  she  scoffed,  doing  everything  short  of  literally  stomping  her  foot  in  frustration.  “who  was  the  sloppy  tastless  lay  of  the  night,  hm  ?  and why the hell are you  bringing  people  home   ?”

THE ENTIRE ENERGY peyton had made tate slowly raise his head from his pillow to look at her. he wasn't surprised by the annoyance over finding a pair of a random girl's underwear in the kitchen but this? the genuine anger was surprising. he blinked slowly, his sleep-addled brain slowly fading as his own annoyance grew. "sloppy? tasteless? really, pey?" he deadpans, a frown forming on his lips as he starts to sit up slowly. "it was stacy from economics if you must know what the play-by-play of my dick is. and i wasn't made aware i had to ask permission to bring someone home. i didn't wake you up last night so what's the problem?" a small part of him wanted to feel smug that she was so up and arms about this. so bothered. he couldn't name why that was. but it was there.

god,  he  was  so  infuriating  !  not  only  had  she  been  awoken  by  one  of  his  latest  conquests,  peyton  had  found  the  remnants  of  it  the  next  morning  on  the  kitchen  counter  of  all  places.  she  stared  at  the  offending  item  in  disbelief,  as  if  staring  at  it  long  enough  would  erase  it  out  of  existence.  she  grabbed  the  nearest  broom,  picking  up  the  pair  of  panties  on  the  counter  with  the  end  of  the  stick  as  though  they  were  contaminated  (  to  her,  they  were  !  ),  before  stomping  her  way  toward  his  room.  she  kicked  the  door  open,  hoping  it  would  be  loud  enough  to  wake  the  sleeping  idiot,  and  tossed  the  panties  straight  at  his  face.  she  let  the  broom  slip  out  of  her  hand,  making  a  mental  note  never  to  touch  it  again  either.  “honestly,  tj,  are  you  fucking  serious  ?” 

TATE DIDN'T DO one-night stands a whole lot. to be fair, he could be doing it more often as a bartender on weekend nights... he just honestly didn't feel the need to. but when stacy boone from economics came strutting in and took the flirting from in between lectures and into his place of work... he couldn't pass the opportunity. although, now? he wishes he did as the sound of his door slamming open in one fatal kick has him shooting up in disarray. he barely has time to focus his bleary eyes before a flash of pink lace smacks him in the forehead. "peyton." he groans out as the sound of her voice clears a bit of his confusion and he flops back onto his pillow, pulling the underwear from his face and lazily inspecting it. "I don't want these." he gruffs out, not entirely connecting the dots in his half-awake state as he throws the panties back at peyton.

i never am active on this blog anymore but i need the solrook brainrotters to see my vision. tell me this song isn’t solrook. tell me rn.

for those of u in need.

he nodded along as he listened to her words, knowing all too well what she meant. it felt like he could never escape the way they could; from his thoughts, from his words or from his fears. he longed for that feeling — to feel so outside of himself. "no, you're right. i think that's also part of why i get envious at times. passionate, yet you aren't one. what do you do?" he questioned, part of him initially doubting she'd been an artist herself and finding it a little shocking she wasn't one. he involuntarily let out a soft laugh at her insinuating he could one, deciding to take it as a compliment and he knew it'd be the comment to stick with him for a while after. "i'm also very far from it. though, i can draw a really nice stick figure so not sure where that puts me," he shrugged, attempting a joke. "i'll admit i love coming here to clear my head sometimes. this is my little escape."

lena laughs softly, watching as a little girl follows behind what seems to be her mother before turning her gaze back to the male. "i'm passionate about their passion, let's say." she grins. "i'm a paralegal. nothing exciting. unless the art of law is enticing to you." lena shrugs, moving to adjust her bag strap that hugged heavier on her shoulder as the stranger continuously took interest in conversation with her. it'd be a lot easier of a conversation if her friend had actually shown up, she thought. lena found herself laughing as well as he began to. "what? you look the type! besides, i can bet a lot of money that your stickman would put mine to shame." lena tries to bite back her laughter as she notes it wasn't inherently loud other than the varied mumbles of people around them. it was only at this moment does she actually allowed herself to truly take him in from the corner of her eye. he was taller than her, that was the first assessment. he also had a nice smile, the kind of smile that made people want to just grin back. his voice was also... soft. it wasn't very demanding or domineering in her opinion. what would goldilocks say? just right. "and what's your escape from? what do you do other than draw really nice stick figures?" she jests, grinning playfully.

"maybe so," he shrugged, noting the song change in his headset and moving to turn it off. he let out a soft chuckle at the pun, nodding lightly. "genius. — i think," he started, pausing to turn back to the piece of art before them and inspecting it once again. michael had never been able to sit down and paint; let alone produce anything remotely aesthetically pleasing no matter how hard he tried to growing up. he felt like, at best, he could do a handprint portrait. his talent was words and how beautifully he could weave them together, sometimes in a heartbreaking way. it was fair to assume he wasn't equipped to really judge any art shows, but he enjoyed looking nonetheless. "i think i envy whatever got them into a state of mind to create something like this. it's..." he turned to look at her, as if he was just then starting to notice all her features. "riveting." a moment passes. "you studying, forcibly attending or simply passionate?"

lena feels her cheeks flush as the male seems to be studying her in a way she's slightly unfamiliar with, followed by a 'riveting' that wasn't exactly spoken directly to the painting. "i agree with that, actually. the envy." lena comments, finding herself agreeing with the complete stranger. she lets her eyes move from him, taking in the painting fully as she begins to think out loud. a distraction from the distracting man. "artists always seem so good at escaping, escaping the mundane, and creating beautiful pieces rich with soul and emotion. it's always nice to take a step away from a 9-5 and kind of... take a stroll through their world, seeing things through their eyes..." her voice trails off as she realizes all he asked for was if she was there for business or pleasure and she overshared. "so, passionate is my answer. clearly." she laughs, attempting to hide her embarrassment, her ears growing hot by the second. "though i'm far from an artist myself, you look the type though. so, what about you? anyone who walks into an art show with headphones on is clearly here to enjoy, not mingle."

there was something about the strokes of the brush on a canvas created by a complete stranger that captivated michael. not for the sole fact that the art was pretty, but because he enjoyed attempting to figure out the artist behind the art. it was almost like a game, a puzzle to put together, a math problem to solve. with his hands shoved into his pockets and the opening tunes of dreams by the cranberries blasting through his headset, he moved onto the next piece of art. his head tilted slightly in discernment as he tried to work through the various possible ideas that could produce the chaos before him. it was then that he noticed a presence on his left, among the number of people walking through, they seemed to be the only two stopping to take a long look at this particular piece. he lowered his headset to hang around his neck, averting his attention to the femme next to him, “what do we think happened here?” / @trcinwreck

simplistic yet bold. delicate yet demanding. a whirlwind of paint strokes blending together, dried-up acrylic raised in certain areas that lena found herself resisting the urge to reach out and run her fingertips along it. the painting had encompassed her attention enough to almost make her forget that her friend was nearly an hour late to meet her there. almost. she had stopped checking her phone thirty minutes ago as three texts were left on delivered and there was yet a call from them to explain their absence. maybe they just got caught in traffic. that lie was a lot easier to convince herself of in the first thirty minutes. to be fair, they did say they would try to make it. she couldn't hold it against them if something came up. lena didn't realize just how lost in thought she became, her eyes glazed over and unfocused as hues of paint blurred into something unrecognizable. unsurprisingly, there was a bit of a reality check as a male voice suddenly spoke beside her, causing her to blink a few times to acknowledge the new presence. the female does a quick once over, noting the low hum of music still playing from the headphones around his neck before she gave a small smile. "divinity, probably." she replies, turning her view back to the painting. "or at least a sudden stroke of genius." she jokes, grinning slightly at the accidental pun of the statement. "what do you think?"

I mean, our lives depend on each other for, like, eternity? That’s my own worst personal nightmare.