anyway once he gets there and steps into the tent, she's just adjusting the top of the dress. it absolutely looks like jessica's, cleavage-y and low-backed and with a slit clean up to her hip. she hasn't changed her hair or look, though, so it's just a slightly bustier alex with fluffy green curls in a jess dress.
she turns to magnus, lips quirking up. ] So? What do you think?
[if they were in Toon Town, Magnus' jaw would have literally hit the floor. he doesn't know what he's expecting -- is possibly overconfident in his ability to handle Alex In A Slinky Dress, after dancing and flirting with Morticialex all night -- but even that didn't prepare properly for this dress. grey eyes blow wide, and then have a problem finding a single place to land on Alex that doesn't make him feel like a cartoon wolf going "Awoooo!"]
Uuh -- uh --
[yeah, he's definitely not able to howl; he can't even muster more than a syllable at a time. that slit is so high, and the neckline is so low, and the back is holy Ratatosk's acorn shits the back???]
Wow --
[yeah, he just stopped completely dead when his heart did, and is gawping like a buffoon]
[ she's taking that as a good sign. magnus chase is good for her ego, that's for sure. and though she doesn't let herself be self-conscious about things like this, it still feels good to see her boyfriend looking a little speechless. it's only fair, considering how often she feels the same way around him.
she steps forward, sliding her arms around his waist and leaning in to kiss him. ]
It's like that, huh? [ she slides fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, palms flattening against his bare back. ]
[holy shit, he's frozen in place while this complete dream-hallucination of Alex floats over to him (she doesn't, he's just unable to look down past that high hip-slit long enough to remember she has regular feet that she regularly walks on). and then her arms are around him, and he automatically bends to her will, tilting his head to return an already-dazed kiss. the hands at his back are basically all that keep him from toppling over backwards, at getting kissed by this absolute green-and-red Christmas goddess]
[he's still gobsmacked when she pulls back, and at her question, he nods a little eagerly a few times. that's all he's apparently capable of for a few seconds, and then he manages to remember that he's an evolved species with the capacity for language, actually. stutters;]
-- You, look --
[come on. come on, Chase, use the power of all the Norse poets before you, woo your lady love]
-- insanely hot.
[well. not exactly, you know, poetic. but it does get his point across; so does the hand, not slid into that fluffy hair, that can't quite stay still, shyly tracing along the shimmery fabric at her right side, just above that insane slit that is going to feature extremely heavily in all fantasies going forth. gods, he can see her whole thigh when she shifts?! is he supposed to look? can he? he shouldn't, right? he's dying, he's dying in her arms (it's the best death he's had so far, though)]
[ he is definitely allowed to look, and in fact, her face flushes a little with pleasure as his hand finally slides down her waist. her own hands creep up his back, tracing soft skin and muscle, nudging up the bumps of his spine. ]
I like looking good for you.
[ for herself, sure, but for magnus these days, too. she likes it when he gets that dumbfounded, stunned look on his face. she loves it when he kisses her and puts his hands on her, especially since he's usually so, so careful with how he does so.
she kisses him again, curling her fingers to carefully drag them down his back, careful not to scratch. when she pulls back, she's grinning a little teasingly, a little wickedly. ]
--Fantasy material, maybe? [ it's not like she doesn't know what he uses alone time for sometimes, after all. he's a teenager. they're both teenagers. and sometimes all he has to do is smile a certain way to get her a little warm. ]
You always look good. You always look more than good.
[there's almost note of complaint in his voice (it's not fair, that she looks the way she does, moves the way she does, acts the way she does), and his hand squeezes at her waist, almost accidentally, in emphasis. he shivers hard at the feeling of her nails along his spine, pouts in embarrassment at her suggestion. Magnus likes to pretend that he doesn't know she knows what he uses alone time for sometimes. it's impossible to keep that illusion up when Alex directly references it, the ass]
[so instead of responding, he kisses her, mostly so he doesn't have to look at that stupidly gorgeous teasing expression on her face. it's a slow, deep, focused kiss, the hand in her hair curling a little more insistently than before. in the wake of her nails and grin and everything, his body's a little ridged, now, stiff and held away about halfway down. he doesn't want to -- look, he's just a teenager, with his first girlfriend. he doesn't want to embarrass himself, or her, with how easily Alex turns him on. this could easily be happening (and has happened) while she was in her pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt]
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none of them would cheat us. we can figure out money later, we have to ask somehow first. this is something you really want though, right?
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Please don't call me weird squirrel petnames, or I'll be forced to give you a weird bunny one.
Don't you?
A place that's just ours, that no one else can take away.
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yeah. it's honestly crazy to think about. like something i'm not supposed to have? but the more we talk about it the more important it feels to do.
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Yeah, I know the feeling.
As great as Valhalla is, even it's supposed to be temporary.
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i don't want anything temporary with you.
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That was the third most romantic thing you've ever said to me.
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what was the second most romantic?
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"Hey, wanna design a pottery studio?"
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that's you being in love with clay, not being in love with me.
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I'm concerned about your cryptid fetish.
That's me being in love with you being in love with me being in love with clay.
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you're so smart. i'm in love with that too.
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Thank my expensive private school education.
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no way, it's all you. as far as i can tell from ronan private school's just a bunch of latin classes and guys with no concept of "packing a lunch."
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I stole the Hel out of a dress.
Well, I did drop out before I could be fully brainwashed, so there's that.
Plus I'm not, you know, white.
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somethign about private school crackers here
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[it doesn't matter. he's already on his way, honestly]
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[ hahahaha.
anyway once he gets there and steps into the tent, she's just adjusting the top of the dress. it absolutely looks like jessica's, cleavage-y and low-backed and with a slit clean up to her hip. she hasn't changed her hair or look, though, so it's just a slightly bustier alex with fluffy green curls in a jess dress.
she turns to magnus, lips quirking up. ] So? What do you think?
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Uuh -- uh --
[yeah, he's definitely not able to howl; he can't even muster more than a syllable at a time. that slit is so high, and the neckline is so low, and the back is holy Ratatosk's acorn shits the back???]
Wow --
[yeah, he just stopped completely dead when his heart did, and is gawping like a buffoon]
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she steps forward, sliding her arms around his waist and leaning in to kiss him. ]
It's like that, huh? [ she slides fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, palms flattening against his bare back. ]
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[he's still gobsmacked when she pulls back, and at her question, he nods a little eagerly a few times. that's all he's apparently capable of for a few seconds, and then he manages to remember that he's an evolved species with the capacity for language, actually. stutters;]
-- You, look --
[come on. come on, Chase, use the power of all the Norse poets before you, woo your lady love]
-- insanely hot.
[well. not exactly, you know, poetic. but it does get his point across; so does the hand, not slid into that fluffy hair, that can't quite stay still, shyly tracing along the shimmery fabric at her right side, just above that insane slit that is going to feature extremely heavily in all fantasies going forth. gods, he can see her whole thigh when she shifts?! is he supposed to look? can he? he shouldn't, right? he's dying, he's dying in her arms (it's the best death he's had so far, though)]
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I like looking good for you.
[ for herself, sure, but for magnus these days, too. she likes it when he gets that dumbfounded, stunned look on his face. she loves it when he kisses her and puts his hands on her, especially since he's usually so, so careful with how he does so.
she kisses him again, curling her fingers to carefully drag them down his back, careful not to scratch. when she pulls back, she's grinning a little teasingly, a little wickedly. ]
--Fantasy material, maybe? [ it's not like she doesn't know what he uses alone time for sometimes, after all. he's a teenager. they're both teenagers. and sometimes all he has to do is smile a certain way to get her a little warm. ]
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[there's almost note of complaint in his voice (it's not fair, that she looks the way she does, moves the way she does, acts the way she does), and his hand squeezes at her waist, almost accidentally, in emphasis. he shivers hard at the feeling of her nails along his spine, pouts in embarrassment at her suggestion. Magnus likes to pretend that he doesn't know she knows what he uses alone time for sometimes. it's impossible to keep that illusion up when Alex directly references it, the ass]
[so instead of responding, he kisses her, mostly so he doesn't have to look at that stupidly gorgeous teasing expression on her face. it's a slow, deep, focused kiss, the hand in her hair curling a little more insistently than before. in the wake of her nails and grin and everything, his body's a little ridged, now, stiff and held away about halfway down. he doesn't want to -- look, he's just a teenager, with his first girlfriend. he doesn't want to embarrass himself, or her, with how easily Alex turns him on. this could easily be happening (and has happened) while she was in her pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt]
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