#i refuse to forget my own funniest joke

[starfxkr]

im a glasses wesring girlie and i refuse to wear my glasses unless i HAVE to see something w my own eyes ik the boys would be annoyed dragging my blind ass around

rafe is gonna force you full stop i fear he has a pair of your glasses in the truck for when you “forget” because yes he likes having you cling to his arm but not if you’re tripping over your feet like a dumbass.

jj probably trips you on purpose to get you to wear em 😭 he’s like “damn baby, if only you coulda seen that coming.” like it’s the funniest joke on the planet!!! and it doesn’t help that he’s got you runnin around during all his schemes, throwing you over fences and shit so you learn you gotta wear em for your own safety.

john b gently encourages you to put them on the first few times before he gets real stern about it and refuses to take you with him anywhere until you listen to him and at first you’re life fine idc 🙄 but them you start to miss him and he’s real smug when he sees you start to remember to put em on.

pope actually gets soooo irked like sjsnsksjs JUST PUT EM ON. and every time you trip or run into something you’re gettin a “i told you so.” because life would be so much easier if you just wore them…

#✨.txt #rafe cameron prompt #jj maybank prompt #john b prompt #pope heyward prompt

[blues824]

May I request the obey me brothers with an undertaker like mc from black bulter? Who is an reaper like Thirteen also an 100+ years old with an large weapon & sleeps in an coffin, can pull out memory in an shape of a something (I ended up forgetting)

Also don't stress yourself out too much and remember to take care of yourself!

If Undertaker ever asked me to marry him, y’all would never see me again. He’s just so beautiful, and happy, and I’m in love with this man.

ANYWAYS, I’ve been working on finding a balance between schoolwork and hobbies, and I think I found a middle ground. Take care of yourself, too!

Lucifer

You seem rather joyful for such a somber occupation. Since you couldn’t exactly run a funeral parlor in Hell, you would travel to the Human World whenever necessary. He understands that the majority of your fascination with the dead is that you can obtain information much more easily.

Once, Diavolo and Lucifer were working on finding why demons all over have been going missing, and they tried to pay you with actual money. You spat out your refusal and told them you would only give them what they needed if they made you laugh. The latter thought that this was absolutely ridiculous, but the former gladly told a few jokes.

One time, Lucifer needed to talk to you about something when he saw you experimenting on the corpses in the parlor. One of them was actually moving around, and he was concerned. You just giggled and told him that you wanted to see if you could bring them back to life. Unfortunately, you still lacked the ability to form a new soul, so it was basically just a zombie. Lucifer had never been so worried.

You and Thirteen seem to get along well. He’s glad that you are getting along with other exchange students, but could you please talk about something other than the funniest “times you went to harvest souls? It is not a proper dinner conversation. And it is certainly very rude to show off your old scythe at the table as well, Y/N!

Mammon

He’s honestly vibing with you on the happy part. However, we all know how much of a scaredy cat is. You owning a funeral parlor makes him a tad terrified. He doesn’t do well with dead bodies, especially if they’re real. 

He remembers one time where he went to you for information about one of the witches he made a deal with. You see, she had died, and she was sent to your funeral parlor. She was part of a coven that Mammon was involved with, so he needed to see where they are now. However, you weren’t about to give information out for free. You told him the price, and he thought you were being ridiculous as well. However, he paid, you laughed, and you gave him the info he needed.

Another time, Mammon came by to drop off some stuff for you when he noticed you were talking to someone. He creaked open the door and saw what looked like a corpse standing up. He slowly walked backwards, but then one of the floorboards creaked. You opened the door fully and caught him, dragging him to the room to tell him about your experiments. He was genuinely terrified. You told him that the bodies were the equivalent to zombies since they didn’t have a soul.

He’s glad that you’re making friends, Y/N. But could it be anyone other than Thirteen? He’s seen you both in action because she invited you to do one more soul reaping. You, loving to partake in old hobbies, gladly accepted. He’s seen you take the film of the soul you took. Is this what happened to everyone?

Leviathan

You remind him of the Old Reaper from “My parents have perished in a terrible fire, and to seek revenge I made a deal with my demon butler to help”. It was a good anime, too bad they haven’t made a new season.

He has never seen you in your domain, so he can only rely on his brothers’ words. He’s heard of your strange bargain, info for a joke. However, he will agree that it’s better and more reliable than paying actual money for it. Plus, you see people getting back-stabbed for money, so it’s not as upsetting to tell a joke to get you to laugh.

He’s also heard from his brothers of your… experiments. The countless times they’ve heard you talking to a corpse as though it were alive, until they heard footsteps that weren’t yours. You would refer to them as your ‘dolls’, which is even more unsettling. 

He definitely gets jealous whenever you say that you have plans with Thirteen when he asks you to hang out. He’s the Avatar of Envy, after all. However, you with your scythe is his new terrifying nightmare. You and Thirteen with your scythes is even scarier (extra points if you have your cloak).

Satan

He’d say your too joyful for your job, but to be fair he does enjoy a good murder mystery story. He wouldn’t be concerned about you and your profession. Everyone has hobbies, after all. He would be concerned about how you talk about it so eccentrically. 

Your way of an information exchange is rather unusual for someone who remains on Earth. Usually, humans want money in exchange. However, when Satan visited to gain info on something, you told him your price. He doesn’t have a problem with it, but it’s odd.

Another time, he went to drop off some lunch for you when he saw you and two bodies walking around. He would have dropped the food if one of the bodies didn’t catch it before it hit the ground. You are more than glad to explain your experiments and the inability to create a soul that you have.

I think he’s on pretty good terms with Thirteen. The two don’t seem to have a problem in the game. He would like to accompany the both of you as you help her harvest souls. Mans is probably shocked between the differences of technique, since you view the film of the life and Thirteen just harvests the soul.

Asmodeus

He’s glad that you find joy in your job! You don’t see a lot of that. Plus, there is a macabre sense of beauty with the dead, and a lot of classic novelists as well as painters would agree. I mean, look at him! On Earth, he’d be described as something undead and supernatural.

I’d say that he likes your way of exchanging information. He’s used to having to pay money to gain information about witches, but when one went to your funeral parlor for something and Asmo went by to gain info on said witch, all he had to do was tell a joke. He appreciated the easy atmosphere you put on in such a grim place of business.

However, every positive thought he had about you disappeared when he visited and he heard you talking to someone in the next room. He called to you and opened the door, where he saw a corpse walking around and you sat there in deep thought. Upon discovering that he was there, you smiled and told him what was going on. He was disgusted at the sight, to say the least.

It doesn’t specify, but I think he’s also on good terms with Thirteen? He’s glad that you both bond over past experiences of being Reapers. Don’t tell Thirteen, but your version of reaping a soul is much different and more appealing than hers. The film of their life made him tear up.

Beelzebub

He’s glad that someone is optimistic around here. It’s not everyday you see someone so happy to be in Hell, literally. To be fair, you do get to visit your funeral parlor whenever a body arrives, but for the most part you reside in the Devildom.

He also enjoys your way of exchanging information. You prefer laughing rather than somber situations, so it only makes sense that you’d rather take jokes rather than actual money. The trick is to tell a joke good enough to get you to laugh.

However, it was one day where he came to take you to eat somewhere in the Human World. It was a rather normal day, until he saw you ‘resurrecting’ a corpse. He suddenly felt sick, as though the snacks he ate on the way were coming back to haunt him. You then saw him, ran and gave him a hug, and explained that you were trying to make your dolls come back to life. You further told him that since you couldn’t create a soul, they were basically just animated bodies. He threw up.

He’s kind of scared whenever you and Thirteen go out with each other. While it’s typically for business, you do get happily nostalgic about your time as an official reaper. Thirteen stands in the back just hyping you up, though. The both of you paired together are an unstoppable force. He’s probably still traumatized by her because of the whole ordeal with her causing his life candle to burn quickly.

Belphegor

No one has the right to be this happy, Y/N. Not even on a billion cups of coffee with a trillion shots of espresso. How are you so happy-go-lucky? And especially with a job such as yours. You’re surrounded with death and misery.

He finds your way of exchanging information rather annoying. Like, can’t he just pay you and get it over with? But nOoOo, you have to do something unique to make yourself stand out. Wait… it’s not that? It’s because you love to laugh and you think it takes tension away from the situation? Now he feels like shit. 

He remembers once where you had to visit your parlor because someone had arrived and he had to accompany you so that you were carrying out your promise of no nonsense. He walked into your parlor exhausted from the day, but gets suspicious when he hears your sinister giggling. He peaked in and saw one of the corpses in the room walking around. He was wide awake for a few weeks after that.

I feel like he also gets jealous whenever you go hang out with Thirteen. Like, how dare you choose reaping souls with her rather than cuddling with him? Another part is that both you and Thirteen are much more powerful than he is, so he gets that small sense of inferiority and powerlessness. He doesn’t like it at all.

#obey me x reader #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #mammon #obey me levi x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #leviathan x reader #leviathan #obey me leviathan #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #satan #obey me asmo x reader #asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub #obey me belphie

[ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense]

If you have to rake all the season of American, dad which season is the best

Oh geez there’s a lot that would go into something like that, I’d have to do a full rewatch of the show. How about a top ten list of the best episodes instead?

1. Jeff Space Arc (Lost in Space)

Jeff Fischer remains the most earnest character in American Dad. While every other member of the smith family is inherently selfish to some degree or another, Jeff is defined by adoring his wife Hayley and loving her family dearly. The Jeff in Space arc is a culmination of this, with several episode dedicated to his journey from space to home after being taken by Rogers people. The episodes are funny and contain a special kind of heart really only reserved for Jeff. The best of these episodes is Lost in Space where his love for his wife is directly called into question and proven without a doubt, but really any episode in this arc is worth a watch.

Cry Baby

Stan Smiths emotional volatility is something the show loves to toy with in its later seasons, and this is one of the funniest. When Stan can’t cry he’s passed up on a mission, so to learn how he enlists his son Steve to teach him empathy. Only to realize that having empathy is too much for him, at which point he tries to remove Steve’s. This episode has nonstop great one liners and is constantly left turning into a new, unexpected joke.

Wild Women Do

Francine and Jeff are both the strongest characters in the Smith family. Francine is a wild card with a crazy past and Jeff is willing to go along with anything if asked. So there’s no better vehicle for fun than these two going out for a wild night on the town.

The Devil Wears A Lapel Pin

Hayley is a character who’s episodes can be hit or miss, but when the show focuses on her relationship with her father it manages to be pretty strong, and this is the apex. When Stan enlists Hayley’s aid as an assistant while making the CIA yearly calendar, Hayley uses it as a chance to get revenge on Stan for his refusal to show pride in her. Great episode, great comedy, and one of my favorite Jeff moments.

LGBSteve

When an all women roller derby team invites him to join their group, Hayley convinces him to join so she can have girl friends. But when Hayley gets jealous of Al the attention Steve gets and outs that he’s a boy, the rest of the team admit that they assumed Steve was trans causing Steve to question his own gender in a positive way, spending with the idea that Steve is comfortable identifying as male but is also comfortable have GNC qualities. It’s really fun and very sweet. Some really solid work on the trans journey and how questioning gender can be very healthy, even if you realize you’re comfortable being cis.

Rubberneckers

Toonrific Tariq once said that American Dads relationship with rap is so complicated it’s kinda impossible to talk about, and that’s certainly true of rubberneckers which is a musical episode featuring everything from R&B, to rap, to hip hop, to gospel style music all centered around the act of “Rubbernecking” and the consequences Stan facing after lying about the cause of an auto accident to his insurance adjuster.

Gold Top Nuts

American Dad pontificates on what it means to be human, to create a society, and to create religion. All with the express purpose of discussing why we can’t just forget the things people have done to us, but we can be kinder in the future and treat people better moving forward

Rabbit Ears

A classic Twilight Zone riff that’s just very solidly made.

The Great Space Roaster

Roger attempts to kill the family after his birthday roast makes him too insecure. Funny ass episode I have no notes.

A Starboy is Born

The Weeknd stars in this episode as himself and sings a song about secretly being a virgin because it gives him magic powers. It’s delightful.

[mattel-is-nobody]

Time to brainrot about something I guess since I'm being kept up with a migraine.

Now you probably wouldn't think it from looking at me, but I am actually very, very much deeply obsessed with linguistics. To an unhealthy degree, some might say. And one of my favorite linguistic concepts is "This is a stupidly hilarious pun in Language A, but it makes no sense in Language B" The prime example of this is an old Sumerian/Babylonian joke that at this point has had several thousand video essays written about it. You know the one: "A dog walks into a tavern. 'I can't see anything!' he says. 'I'll open this one.'"

And who could forget the Greek Philosopher Chrysippus? In one of the accounts of his death, it is said that he got a bit too drunk at a party and, upon witnessing a donkey eating figs, he said "someone should get that donkey some pure wine to wash down the figs!". He then fucking died of laughter at his own joke. Beause apparently that was the funniest shit he'd ever seen.

Now neither of those make sense in any living language or modern culture, but the fact that it was written down at all means it made enough people laugh for it to be worth recording. And it's fun to look at living languages and see what makes the native speakers laugh but still utterly baffles everyone else. Even better, digital archeaologists in a thousand years are going to have a field day with this post if they ever stumble upon it, so here are a few of my favorite untranslatable puns: Hungarian: A man is pulled over by the police. The officer asks, "Are you drunk?". The man replies, "No, sir, Ivett is my wife"

Japanese: Why dont Hawaiians go to the dentist? Good teeth.

Finnish: "A bar and a screwdriver". That's the entire joke, by the way. Set up and punchline, apparently both right there, and in the original Finnish it's only two words. Apparently it's a reference to something? I'm just going to assume this is a thing you say and people laugh, much like "omae wa, mou shinderu"

Spanish: What fruit is the most patient? It's a pear. So fun fact, my Aunt is from Mexico, and I decided to tell her this joke in the original Spanish (which as a consequence of having a Mexican aunt, I speak pretty well). And I shit you not that as soon as the words "es pera" left my mouth, she let out the longest, heaviest, most world-weary sigh I have ever heard in my 20 years of life, before returning to the tamales she was making. I guess she now knows that my pun game has transcended to include her native language, and in that moment she was preparing herself for the ensuing decades of Spanish wordplay

Another from Japanese because they are gods of wordplay: "7-Up, Pepsi, Coca-Cola, they're all types of what?" "Soda?" "That's right!"

Chinese: "Who is Mi's mother?" "Hua, because peanuts". I took Chinese in high-school and I can verify that this is the shittiest pun I've ever seen, but the reddit user who posted it says "I am yet to find a single Chinese/Taiwanese person who does not find it hilarious"

Aussie English (which I'm including both for English rep and because Aussie slang is so markedly different that Brits and Americans are still unlikely to get it): "What's the difference between fat and cholesterol? You can't crack a cholesterol".

Danish: One sign says to another, "Are you married?" The other replies, "No, I'm divorced"

AND MY PERSONAL FAVORITE: French: "He wished to be Caesar, but he died as Pompey" -- George Clémenceau, commenting on the death of President Felix Faure (I refuse to explain this one or give any further context, go look it up)

Oh and side note. Obviously, no world leader can speak every language, so interpreters are a necessity for negotiation. And of course, world leaders and diplomats are going to try the lighten the mood occaisionally with humor. But for negotiations between most countries, that's hard to do, because there are very few puns with much cross-linguistic utility. Sure, you have that one joke about where cats go when they die that works in English and most Romance languages, but for some more serious negotiations, the number of puns that would make sense in both languages is pretty close to zero, and may very well BE zero. So the question arises, how do interpreters deal with that? Of course there are a lot of possible methods, not all of which are good or even remotely efficient. You could just translate the pun word for word, but as evidenced by the fact that that's literally what I did above, it's not gonna work that well. Explaining the joke also isn't gonna fly, because as we all know, the second you explain a joke is the seond it becomes Not Funny Anymore. The method I've found that I think works best is just to say "They have said a pun that doesn't translate well to English. Laugh now." Which is funny not just because it works, but because it works amazingly. That person on the other end of the table (who we are assuming doesn't speak a lick of English) has no clue what the interpreter is saying, and so must assume their joke was translated faithfully. Sure, their interpreter might know depending on how the whole thing is set up, but considering the vetting process you have to go through to be an interpreter for the POTUS , I highly doubt anyone is going to risk national security over a joke being left untranslated. Both leaders have a laugh, everything ends on good terms, and we avoid nuclear annihilation for another few weeks.

#linguistics #language #puns #terrible puns #bad puns #rambles

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.). 

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.) 

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy. 

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

#cockles #cockles ask #liz answers #i really just. spend hours. writing about misha and his boyfriend. #why. why do i. do that #long post for ts

[shinsouskitten]

Okay so hc’s of Hawks, Dabi, Bakugo, and Shinsou with an outta pocket s/o plz! She just oozes crackhead energy and says the most funniest most wildest shit. (Hawks:*teasing her* S/O: Ah, so you think cuz your balls drag across the floor, you got jokes huh? ☺️) Sis could come up with the most immaculate of roasts (S/O: Mineta, you waste of sperm! I will rip your spine outta your ass and make it into fine China before sending it to your parents 😡) and do the dumbest things just cuz she wants to (Monoma’s on his bullshit and S/O just suplexes him without saying a single word). Imagine their faces when she breaks the fourth wall a couple of times, says some freaky shit with a straight face, or she’ll just go “Nope” and jump out of a window with no hesitation (she don’t care how high the drop is, she heading out). Need them to be with someone who just has “I woke up and chose violence” energy.

I POSTED IT TO THE WRONG ASK 😭😭😭 i still have the other request saved on the actual document so at least i didnt completely fuck it up

still, im gonna go cry in a corner so brb

---

i had a stroke reading this 😅

but like i read this out to my buddy @grapefantaenby and we both were like BRO I LOVE THAT, even if my writing of it is subpar at best lol

also that m*neta insult is actual perfection. might send it to my ex

Warnings: chaos, some swear words, m*neta exists 🤮

---

Hawks/Keigo Takami: 

🍗 Keigo loves it

🍗 He especially loved when the two are you are partnered up, simply because of how terrified the villains are when they see you. You’re not even that scary, they just have no idea what you’re going to do

🍗 You could either decide your weapon of choice that day is a chair, or take a bag of popcorn from a nearby store and just sit there eating it while Hawks does his job (heroes don’t steal so Keigo always makes sure to go back to the store and pay for you if you forget)

🍗 He’s used to you jumping out of random windows. He was absolutely terrified the first time, and jumped straight after you to catch you, but now he just sends a bunch of his feathers to make sure you make it to the ground safely 

🍗 You don’t bend over and accept everything the commission asks you to do, and it’s quite common for them to demand that Hawks keep an eye on you to ensure you don’t get into too much trouble. It’s also quite common for you to just walk out mid meeting with a middle finger to the rest of the conference room and a scream that you want food

🍗 The fourth wall breaks. Oh God the fourth wall breaks. Hawks literally just stand there like ‘what the fuck’ when you turn to an empty piece of sidewalk and mutter something about villains being too hot for their own good (legit thinks for a moment you mean temperature-wise, but is still confused anyway)

---

Dabi/Touya Todoroki:

💙🔥 Oh boy. If there’s one thing that gets on Dabi’s nerves it’s chaotic individuals. He deals with Toga and Twice on a daily basis, so you’d think he’d know how to tone out the craziness. Alas, he does not

💙🔥 Sometimes he wants to throw you against the wall and just tell you to shut up for a goddamn second, and other times he wants to praise you for showing some low level villain that the league was not to be messed with. Maybe you did it with an insult about his mother, but it still worked, and the villain left you with an apology quickly enough

💙🔥 Not that Dabi would ever actually tell anyone that he thought they did a good job, so he usually just ignores you, attempting to stay out of your way (he also doesn’t really want you to insult his mother)

💙🔥 Eventually he becomes more accustomed to your… uniqueness, and occasionally you actually manage to get a half smile from him with one of your numerous insults aimed towards Shigaraki. They can get pretty creative

💙🔥 If Dabi is ever at odds with the rest of the league for some reason (there’s not really a reason, he’s just being Dabi), they - usually mom Kurogiri - sends you in an attempt to cheer him up. If you don’t manage to cheer him up, you still manage to annoy him enough to force him back to the rest of them. Either way it works out

---

Katsuki Bakugou:

💥 ‘Wow you’re annoying’ is the first thing Bakugou thinks when he meets you (he should meet himself) so he plans to just ignore you. After all, he’s not there to make friends. He’s there to be the best hero

💥 Annoyingly, even with your naturally chaotic energy, you still manage to stay right on his toes. That’s what finally gets him to notice you (notice me senpai), and to his frustration, you’re barely even trying to beat him, and yet you manage to remain hot on his heels

💥 He’s surprised you’re not suspended from all the shit you pull, but you always manage to get yourself out of trouble one way or another. Even if that way is jumping out of a second story window and claiming they can’t kick you out when you’re injured (how that actually works he has no idea)

💥 He’s wanted to throw a chair at that stupid copycat Monoma since he first met him, so when you actually throw a chair at the guy, Bakugou laughs. Like really laughs. Kirishima thought he might’ve been possessed for a moment, but Monoma’s expression when he finally got back up was priceless

💥 It takes a while but he slowly manages to respect your skill as a hero - as much as King Explosion Murder can respect anyone. And even though your personality is… unusual, you’re not Deku, so he can deal with you

💥 Besides, anyone who can and will suplex Monoma without any warning is a worthy friend for him

---

Hitoshi Shinsou:

💜 The first time he met you, you were screaming like a banshee running through the halls of school, chasing after a small purple speck some way off in the distance. He didn’t get involved

💜 He saw you next being held apart from Bakugou with help from Aizawa’s scarf. You were screaming again, but this time at least you sounded human. He heard something about an ‘angry pomeranian’ before he decided to leave you to it

💜 You’re part of 1A, so Shinsou doesn’t pay you much mind other than the infuriating need to prove himself to everyone that ever doubted him. He’s surprised when you don’t act like the others in your class, and first gets to talk to you after you barrel into him in the hallways mid lesson (you were both skipping so he didn’t call you out on it)

💜 He asked if you were okay, and your exasperated response of ‘Bakugou’ explained enough for him. You sat together for a while. Okay, you refused to get up from the floor. He got tired of standing and decided to join you

💜 You get your first smile from him after you’re almost caught by a teacher looking for you, when you grab his hand and make a mad dash to a darkened classroom currently unused by anyone else

💜 Your first laugh comes when you flip off Denki after he tried one of his many pickup lines on you. The blond’s reaction was great, and Shinsou couldn't help but chuckle at how you managed to twist Denki’s pickup line into some distorted insult to his… nether regions

💜 Your chaos is a nice contrast to how nonchalant Shinsou usually is. You bring some much needed joy to the purple haired insomniac, and he helps to calm you down when your usual energy might be unneeded in certain situations. You know what they say; opposites attract

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fic #boku no hero art #hawks x reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #mha x reader

[444tsumu]

HAPPY 100 MARS!!!/&/&: AHHH! okay so i’d love a tier three if you didn’t mind! i wanted to know which 3 characters would smoke ouid and what you think smoking with them would be like? ily tysm!

▭ WHICH CHARACTERS SMOKE WEED?

includes matsukawa, hanamaki, suna

warnings drug use, explicit content, doing things under the influence, implied sexual content, slight nsfw.

authors note lol ik some people don’t like the whole “w*ed” and dr*g use hc but it’s all fiction and based on my own personal opinion (: i don’t mean to offend anyone lol i smoke too <3

This is a long one, beware <3 also it’s also my dream blunt rotation LMAO

                          𖥻 MATSUKAWA, ISSEI !

definitely the philosophical stoner

always has a question or an answer

depends on how much he’s smoked though

eyes get really red and he looks really hot

prefers backwoods over regular papers

always smoked regular papers though bc woods are bad for you (:

does that thing where they lick the paper and look at you at the same time

the hottest man smoking ever god please

always makes sure to have you sitting on his left so that he passes it to you first

loves smoking people out

doesn’t really care if you put in money or not

if issei is around, everyone is getting high

smokes makki’s unemployed ass out like everyday lmao

loves to hotbox

lights you up for the first time and tries to get you into another galaxy

“if you’re gonna get high, at least do it right”

definitely funny as fuck when he’s high

always definitely ready to fuck

very touchy when he’s high

will hold on to you for a long time and forget he’s doing it

but if you make him let go he genuinely feels the skin contact nearly rip off

calm down mattsun your possessiveness is showing

tries to explain all the different types to you but forgets mid sentence

literally cannot formulate a single structured thought

definitely leans in to make out with you more than once

loves shotgunning with you

already lazy but when he’s zooted he’s UNBEARABLE

he really does wanna fuck but ends up smoking too much with you because you played chicago and forgot

doesn’t really get hungry for food but munchies?

ate all of the snacks

has no remorse for his actions either

stares into the deep nothing for like 10 minutes

just to snap out of it and look around suspiciously

“do you guys hear that….?”

“…..no?”

“………..the paint is screaming at me?”

ok buddy don’t ruin this for everyone else

knows how to french & ghost inhale

has argued with makki many times over the earth being flat

doesn’t really think it’s flat

ends up believing it is after makki told him the world was actually dome shaped

has a grinder shaped like a dragon ball

not a peer pressuring kinda guy but thinks everyone should get high at least once

definitely gets iwa and oikawa to try

loves getting oikawa high cause he thinks the guy is fucking hilarious

laughs at everything

just a great guy, especially when he starts smoking

falls into a weed coma and doesn’t wake up for like 3 days though

treats it like it’s a regular hangover

definitely falls asleep with his entire body on top of you and no remorse for the weight

says “i’m fried” and isn’t embarrassed about it for whatever reason

he’s hot so no one judges him

                      𖥻 HANAMAKI, TAKAHIRO !

definitely a comedian when he’s high

always the funniest guy in the room

when him and mattsun are together though?

undefeated

him and issei both smoked for the first time together

after that though?

they became unstoppable

don’t get me started with after volleyball season ended

prefers bongs because he thinks he looks cooler lmao

everyone assumes makki is high but they don’t know he actually gets high

offers to smoke you out cause you’re hot lmao

makes fun of you when you cough

even though he still coughs

hates hotboxing because he can’t handle it

but refuses to pussy out so he’s always the first one to agree

in his own words

“my mother didn’t raise no bitch”

makki please

ideal smoking partner

is one of those people that fuck the passing rotation up because he refuses to pass it to anyone but you

secretly does it because he doesn’t want anyone else’s lips touching yours

prefers to smoke with just his close friends but doesn’t mind a session

doesn’t like shotgunning cause he starts thinking his breath smells bad

gives in anyways because he doesn’t want you doing it with anyone else

loves when you put your legs on him

the pressure gives him chills

makes jokes 24/7 because he likes hearing you laugh

can’t french inhale but mattsun taught him how to ghost inhale and he hasn’t stopped since

takes videos of himself cause he thinks he looks cool

realizes he looks like a fucking idiot but fuck it we ball

falls into a weed coma with his head on your lap and his phone unlocked and still on

does that thing where he lights it up with it in his mouth and looks really fucking hot while doing so

has a breaking bad rick & morty rolling tray and is really proud of it

gets really into music when he’s high

will sing along to all the songs while he’s packing the bong

as i repeat

looks hot while doing so

definitely a hungry high

orders food before you even get to ask

“makki, want some snacks?”

“oh nah it’s cool, i already ordered mcdonald’s”

“????? we just finished smoking????”

prefers smoking over drinking but will do both when he wants to go big or go home

eyes get really low

talks kinda slow but really deep and it’s fucking hot

laughs by throwing his head back and it’s really cute

gets cold when he’s high

it doesn’t matter the season

he gets fucking cold and it makes no sense

so he’ll need your body heat to warm himself up (;

                            𖥻 SUNA, RINTAROU !

a confused high

no doubt about it

this man never knows what the fuck is going on

ik everyone complains about the stoner!suna hc

but i think it’s fucking hot lmao

always has like 2 blunts rolled and on him at all times

is one of those people that will use any excuse to do it

“……(sighs) i’m gonna go take a smoke break.”

“suna we just got here??”

“exactly”

likes joints and edibles the best

not much of a hungry high or munchie high

but he hyperfixates on a certain food and will eat it until there is nothing left

ate an entire pack of gum in one sitting before

definitely watches cartoons the minute he starts to feel the buzz

rarely talks unless to pass it to you or make a single joke that has you about to pee yourself

he doesn’t say much but when he does?

the man leaves an impact

hates smoking with other people

doesn’t like when they fuck his blunt/joint up

hates smoking joints rolled by other people unless he watches them do it

always complains when you ask to smoke with him but secretly loves it

shotguns with you and acts like nothing just happened

hello sir how dare you make me fall inlove like that

forgets everything so don’t try to say anything important to him

zones out because he’s too busy imagining fucking

but then forgets about fucking and starts thinking about what’s on the tv

can’t hold a conversation but will go in-depth as to why spongebob squarepants was more than just a sponge

“no you need to listen to me, patrick star is much more than just his best friend—”

“….rin what the fuck are you talking about?”

“you’re asking me like i know? pass the blunt.”

definitely got into smoking in high school but didn’t actually do it like that until college

lies on his drug tests lmao

smokes after every win as a celebration and smokes after ever loss as a reliever

lmao seek help sir

definitely tries to get you to take your shirt off when he’s in the moment

swears it’s because he’s doing you a favor but really just loves how you look in his clothes when he’s high

doesn’t really know when to stop because he’s never greened out before

all his supplies is a simple shade of black

he’s a simple man

can do all the smoke tricks

but won’t do it in front of anyone cause he hates when people point it out

likes hotboxing because it gets him higher faster

is actually friends with the guy he gets weed from lmao

his perfect date with you was that one time you guys stood home and did nothing but smoke and watch family guy

tears up every time he thinks about it

has a picture of himself with two blunts in his mouth and his eyes really red and it’s really fucking hot

giggles even though he tries not to

uses pens when he can’t physically have weed on him

doesn’t really like it because the pen high makes him knock out after a few pulls

once rin falls into a weed coma???

don’t even think about trying to contact him cause that man might as well be dead

doesn’t wake up to save his own damn life

you can smack him and the most he’d do is probably groan and turn his head lmao

#matsukawa headcanons #hanamaki headcanons #suna headcanons #matsukawa hcs #makki hcs #suna hcs #issei matsukawa #hanamaki takahiro #suna rintaro #matsukawa x reader #hanamaki x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #au #hq headcanons #hq mattsun #hq makki #hq suna #hqhcs #haikyū!! #haikyuu!! #xxxmars #tw/drugs

[everlarkficexchange]

Like The Stars Hold The Moon

Written By : @katnissmellarkkkk

Prompt 59 :  "Katniss dad is a victor, he won his hunger games and is a mentor. Peeta is reaped for the games and Katniss begs her dad to help him win the games. [submitted by anonymous]“

Hi! It feels like there’s so much I need to say here and I can’t remember any of it now! This is obviously–if you read the summary, which I assume you did and that’s why you’re here hahaha–an EFE prompt. It was submitted by an anonymous person, so I don’t know specifically if this is what you wanted but I really hope this is good enough that you’ll be fulfilled?

I don’t think there is much more to say? I hope everyone who reads this has a good day! I wrote plenty of this on Easter so I’d like to thank Jesus for rising again. And I feel like the prompt alone is a sufficient summary but just so you know, this heavily features Katniss, Peeta (obvi), Haymitch and Katniss’ father, Hunter (I named him, that’s not canon, I know).

This fic I likely going to be a three-shot with an opportunity for a sequel three-shot. Oh and also, thank you to the anon who sent the prompt!

Oh and this got really long, so I’m just going to submit the first part on here and then I’ll add a link at the bottom to continue reading on AO3. I’ve never done this before so I don’t know if I’m doing it right?

Okay, if you read all my talking, bye now!

Rated T for the canon violence. 

At the reaping for the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games, Matty Knick drew out the names of a ”very special boy“ and ”a very special girl“ from the reaping bowls. She read them off in a bright voice and matched the sentiment with an out of place perky smile. The girl’s name was Heather Branch.

And the boy’s was Hunter Everdeen.

Of course, everyone knows the story of Hunter Everdeen.

/

Year of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games.

"So Hunter,” Caesar Flickerman leans toward the victor, absolutely electrified, and says, “tell us, tell us. How excited are you for the games this year?”

The camera focuses in on gray eyes, the color of a storm cloud or a cleanly polished knife. Dangerous and hard and cunning.

Or protective and frightful and angry.

Or warm and loving and kind.

“I’m about as excited as I always am, Caesar,” he shoots back, not a trace of even so much as a smirk on his face. Not even so much as a lift from the corner of his mouth.

And still, the crowd of Capitol idiots burst out in laughter, as if they just heard the funniest joke in the world, as if this was Hunter’s desired response to the words.

As if the conversation wasn’t about teenagers—and some as young as twelve—killing other teenagers.

“And what about you, Haymitch?” Caesar asks next, segueing from one aggravated man to another.

“I’m looking forward to the free drinks,” Haymitch says while tipping back dark gold colored liquid into his mouth. Almost as an afterthought, he gestures wide and sloppy to the crowd, igniting cacophonous sounds from the population once more. “And of course, the social interaction with all you lovely people.”

No one in the audience recognizes the insult. No one understands the blatant sarcasm at their expense.

Here in District Twelve though, we do. As exemplified by Peeta’s laugh, vibrating against my back. “Shh,” I hush, laser focused on the enormous television screen before us.

“Daddy’s not speaking anymore,” Prim reminds me from the other room, where she’s currently flipping through a magazine our father sent.

“Well, be quiet before he does,” I snap, elbowing Peeta when he rolls his eyes now. “Stop it, I haven’t seen him in weeks,” I complain, fixing him with a fierce glare.

“I know,” he murmurs agreeably, gently kissing my temple. “But he’ll be home in a few days.”

As if they could hear our exchange from inside the television box, Caesar turns his attention back to my father. “Hunter, how excited are you to get home to District Twelve?”

At that, his eyes genuinely light up with ferocity. “I’m counting the minutes,” he replies, but still manages to keep his tone cool. He adamantly refuses to give away his true emotion to even a single soul in the Capitol. It’s his way of withholding power from their greedy, glitter covered hands.

But I see the change in him. Prim, from her position against the doorframe, sees it. I’m positive my mother, who’s watching with our brother from the comfort of our house sees it as well.

Our father’s eyes are now alive again, the permanent frown his mouth resides in on every televised appearance loosens a bit, his brows aren’t knit so closely together any longer.

Caesar Flickerman sees the change too evidently.

“Look at those silver coins!” He bellows, gesturing for the cameras to put my father in a close up now. “They just lit up like the stars when talking about home. Tell me, Hunter Everdeen, how’s the family back in District Twelve?”

At that, my father makes a considerable effort to transform his entire expression into a mask of indifference. “They’re good,” he states evenly, his tone clipped. Making it blatant to even the airheaded Capitol citizens that he refuses to speak publicly about his family.

“Because you’re not property of the Capitol, baby,” he told me once, while on a walk in the woods. “You’re not anyone’s property.”

“What about you and mommy?”

“You’re our responsibility, but not our property.” He’d knelt down to my height, which happened to be the shortest in my second grade class. “Property implies ownership, Katniss. And no one owns you. No one owns you or your sister. Remember that for me. And never let yourself forget it.”

“You’re daughters are both old enough for the reaping, am I right?” Caesar presses further, and my sister and I automatically sigh. Knowing the response that’s bound to come.

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks, as he still remains completely clueless. I shake my head instead of offering an explanation though, leaning further into his chest.

Peeta won’t understand. He was raised in town by merchants—the owners of the bakery, to be specific. He’s never understood the fierce protectiveness, the instantaneous fury, the irrational tunnel vision, that appears when a victor’s child is mentioned entering the games.

Peeta’s never even met my father. I’m not impatient by any stretch of the imagination to put the two of them in the same room, to watch my father chew my boyfriend up and devour him alive, to abide by his rules and regulations that will surely come with dating.

He doesn’t know Peeta and I have even so much as shaken hands. I’ve never so much as left him even the slightest hint. Not even when I’ve accompanied him to the bakery for the occasional trade with Peeta’s father, the baker himself.

Like both Prim and I predicted, our father is now on edge, his breathing uneven and his nostrils flaring. “Yes. Both my girls are of age,” he says after a long beat, his tone hard and jagged.

Caesar though is either oblivious or is extraordinarily practiced at appearing obtuse. “Well, wouldn’t it be something if either of them were chosen for the games? Am I right?” He directs his questions to the audience. “Don’t we all love a family story?” His words elicit cheers and hollers and a murderous glint in my father’s silver eyes. The camera only catches it for a moment’s time before quickly flitting away, towards the much more enjoyable image of the Captiolites chattering like chipmunks at the very idea.

And suddenly I feel Peeta’s arm tighten around me, the vision of me—the only person in the world he’s certain that he loves—being taken away from our home here in Twelve and tossed into an arena with kids twice her size, too much for even his naïve mind.

“Don’t we all believe in Mr. Everdeen,” the talk show host continues to push and I feel my typical annoyance with the odd man bleed into anger. “I mean, he brought home Mr. Abernathy here.” And with one single hand gesture from Caesar, the entire interview’s focus re-centers on Haymitch.

And unlike my father, he doesn’t even miss a beat before replying.

“Barely,” he mutters with a last swig of his drink, cleaning the glass. “And he was stingy with the gifts.”

Next to him, my father relaxes a bit. Haymitch always brings out a bit of levity in him, even on his worst days.

After all, in my father’s eyes, the paunchy drunk is a symbol of hope.

Haymitch is the only person my father’s ever brought him. He’s the only other living victor inside the confines of Twelve.

Not to mention his closest friend.

And my surrogate uncle, I note, a bit ironically. Haymitch and I have a far different relationship than he has with anyone else in my family but he���s always been there, has known me since the day I was born, often has dinner at our house, rain or shine, no matter how much he annoys my mother, and he’s an irreplaceable member of my family.

The audience is still riled up from Haymitch and howling with laughter—a bit too much, in my opinion—but my father can’t let the subject of his children go before adding one last sentiment.

“Don’t worry, Caesar. If either of my girls are reaped, trust me,” he states, louder and far more pronounced than anything else he’s said the entire interview. “They will be the victor. There’s not a tribute in the arena that would survive against my girl.”

/

For as long as I can remember, my father had taken me to the woods. He sometimes claims the first time he looked down at me in my mother’s arms, at a mere two days old, he saw a familiar hunger in my eyes.

Not a hunger for food. District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest in the country of Panem, but luckily, my family is one of the richest.

Unlike my schoolmates, I’ve never once had to worry about having enough to eat for lunch. My parents never worried that we’d starve to death or that Prim and I could be taken from their grasp by authorities. They never worried about supplying us with whatever we needed—they gave us more than we ever could have wanted—and they never had to fret that we’d be sent to the mines for work one day.

No, we were far too wealthy and far too famous for any of that.

But my parents had a far different batch of worries to keep them up at night. Not about food or finances or anything remotely common in Twelve.

No, they had to worry about cameras peaking into the privacy of our home and photos being taken without our knowledge and my face or Prim’s face being splashed across every magazine and newspaper in the country.

They worried about the almost insatiable thirst the Capitol seems to have for more family dynamics among the victors.

Especially after the recent back-to-back sibling victories led the hunger games to higher ratings and revenues in the Capitol.

When I was a child, my mother coached me to never go into town without my father by my side. Which sounds easy enough, until my father’s extensive vacations to the Capitol are taken into consideration. For as long as I can remember, my father would leave at random stretches of time, for weeks on end. To go play puppet for a population so dumb, so completely isolated from the rest of the country, that they took his anger for sarcasm. They took his bite as charm. They believed his glare was an act, was part of his appeal, when in reality my father had rebelled against performing for the last twenty-seven years.

When he was gone, our lives became strict. Bedtimes came earlier, curtains remained drawn day in and day out, our mother never wanted to sing or dance or even so much as smile with her husband gone.

But when he was home, sunshine peaked in our windows again. It danced on the floor and it swept us away with its gentle affection.

There was music and laughter and sweets and toys. He never returned from the Capitol empty-handed. He brought back expensive jewels for our mother, he built me and Prim a fancy treehouse in the backyard, put up a large, golden swing-set, went as far as purchasing as many cakes and breads as he could hold from the Mellark Bakery.

Peeta’s parents bakery.

Since I was two, further back than I can even retain, my father would take me out to the woods, would hold my hand and tell me old stories of District Twelve’s past, detail insane urban legends, teach me about plants and berries and trees and the direction of the wind.

And for as long as I can remember, I idolized him. He was so confident and so charismatic and so kind. For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be exactly like him when I grew up. It felt like an honor to me that I received far more his end of the gene line than my mother’s. She was regarded as a beauty in her youth, but he was one of the most magnificent people in the country. Having his coloring and the same silver eyes felt like a special gift, awarded every single time someone marveled at how similar we appear.

But my father was gone often and the unpredictable lengths of his stays in the large, foreign city was one of the only constants my family ever knew. So it really came as no surprise when my mother phoned the cabin only minutes after Caesar’s interview was over.

“I’ll get it,” Prim says flatly after a moment, throwing a sardonic glance at me and Peeta on the couch. Now in a much different entanglement than we had been while watching the talk-show.

“Thanks,” I murmur unintelligibly against Peeta’s mouth, before closing my eyes in pleasure.

“Don’t strain yourselves,” she can’t stop herself from tacking on the end.

“We’ll try not to while you’re still here,” Peeta murmurs cheekily, moving his lips downwards, towards my neck, right onto my pulse point. I let out a somewhat ridiculous squeak in response.

“Hello?” Prim says lightly into the receiver, already knowing it’s our mother. No one else calls this phone, inside this hidden cabin, located in the woods surrounding Twelve.

The woods in which officials fenced off years ago. The woods in which it’s illegal to enter. The woods in which my father has taken me to hunt for families less fortunate than ours since I was a small infant.

It’s not a typical cabin found in the outskirts of Twelve. No, ordinarily a cabin out here—a cabin anywhere in Panem, really—is nothing more than a broken down shack. There’s normally nothing other than an unsteady foundation, a freezing damp floor and an unlit fireplace.

But somewhere along the lines, in the years before I was born, my parents resurrected this place from the depths of despair and expanded it, rebuilt it, refurnished and redecorated and turned it into a vast, warm, safe second home for all of us to run away to when we felt the need.

Prim listens into the receiver for a long moment before she sighs deeply and beckons me. “Katniss, can you?”

Instantly, I break away from Peeta’s embrace, cupping his face and pulling him back from my collarbone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I scramble off the couch, my anxiety abruptly spiked. “Did something happen?” I search Prim’s eyes as I take the phone from her but, to my utter relief, all I find there is blatant, unmasked disappointment.

I already know what my mother is going to say before I put the phone to my ear. “Hi?”

“Hi, honey,” she murmurs, her voice both strained and higher than typical. Which indicates she’s trying to put up a front for us right now, when she’d rather be moping in bed. “Your father just called. Evidently Effie Trinket informed him he has more scheduled commitments to fulfill before he can come home.”

I deflate, already prepard, knowing this was coming. Isn’t it always coming inadvertently? My father has never been home when he was scheduled to be in my life. No matter the holiday, the birthday, the emergency or event, the Capitol demands that they comes first to him. Not even my birth could upstage his commitments. He wasn’t allowed to return home to Twelve, to meet his firstborn child, until his press events were done and over with.

It’s no wonder he refuses to put on show for those people.

“Okay,” I mumble after a moment, not even convinced my mother is even still there on the other end.

“It’ll be alright,” she says, as positively as she can. “He’ll be home as soon.”

“Yeah.” I try and fail miserably to match her tone. I inherited my father’s ability to act. Or inability, that is.

There’s the faint sound of crying in the background, and my heart aches a bit. “I’m sorry, honey, I have to go check on Archer,” she apologizes as a way of saying goodbye.

I make my way into the kitchen as soon as we hang up. Prim is standing by the counter, staring at the same magazine our father sent three weeks ago.

Peeta comes up behind me then, his hand rubbing my back in comforting circles. “Your father delayed again?”

I nod silently, as my eyes focused on my little sister now. She’s trying her best to hold back the upset that’s threatening to take over.

And without hesitation, my instincts to protect my family from anything and everything painful kick in. “Prim, it’s okay. It’s probably only going to be another week before he’s back,” I console, stepping closer to her small frame and touching her back.

It’s all the initiation she needs before spinning around into my arms and clinging onto me tight. “He’s never around,” she cries into my neck—I’m not much taller than her—as her shoulders shake with tears.

I feel Peeta’s eyes on me, measuring my reaction to Prim’s words. He’s heard me cry the same thing time and time again, he knows the familiarity of this scene better than anyone should.

“He tries his best, Prim,” I whisper thickly into her long, blonde hair. She’s fair and light, like our mother. Like a merchant or peacekeeper. Looking at my little sister, you’d never consider her to be the daughter of a man from the Seam.

But you’d easily believe that she was a girl raised in Victor’s Village and I suppose that’s what counts. Where we were raised and not where we could have been, if things had gone different.

“He’s never really going to be ours though,” she weeps and I don’t have words to comfort her now. Because she’s right.

Our father will always belong to the Capitol, first and foremost.

And not even his children can upstage that.

/

Prim leaves not long later, to head home to Victor’s Village and more than likely curl up with our mother for the night. They’ve both always been so alike, so much softer and more hopeful than me. I half expect every trip of our father’s to double in time, if not triple. After a lifetime of disappointments, I can’t help but prepare myself.

It’s not that they’re weak for believing. It’s that I have too much Hunter Everdeen in me. I have too much pessimism crawling inside my bones to ever fully trust that he’s really coming home until he’s already stepped off the train in Twelve.

Too many hours of my childhood were spent, wearing fancy stockings and warm, fur-lined coats, standing at the train station, only to welcome a load of cargo and no father in sight. Too many times were phone calls answered in tears. Too many night spent crying, clinging to my father’s hunting jacket, so disoriented by the hazardous schedule in which our lives were ran, waiting for my father to phone, waiting for him to walk through the front door, waiting for him to sneak up on us in the middle of the night or pull us from class on a school day.

That was the true constant in my life. Waiting for my father to finally come home, knowing every moment we shared was on borrowed time. Knowing that he’d never truly belong to us. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to hear my mother’s bedroom door slam and lock, waiting to hear Prim cry or Archer wail, waiting to see that defeated glint in my father’s slate gaze.

I close the cabin door behind my sister now, knowing with confidence that she’ll make it home alright, even with the sun currently setting in the faded blue sky.

Our father never took Prim hunting like he did me, never brought her out to the woods and taught her to shoot a bow and arrow, never showed her how to trap and kill an animal. But even still, the path from the cabin to our home in Victor’s Village is imprinted in our brains, like a birthmark or tattoo. We’d be able to find our way to and from, even if we were sleepwalking.

As would Peeta. Considering this is the place he spends the majority of his time.

Considering this cabin may as well be his permanent address.

And if it weren’t illegal, it very well might be, I think to myself wryly as I walk over to where he’s leaning against the doorframe now.

“Hello,” I greet again, hopping onto my tiptoes and kissing his lips lightly.

He grasps my hips, smiling against my mouth. “Don’t you have to get home too?” He hesitantly asks, his desire to keep me here bleeding through every caress of his fingers, as they trail underneath my loose shirt, sliding upwards and causing an electric current to ripple through the core of my body.

But I just shake my head at his inquiry, moving my mouth from his to kiss down the side of his face, underneath his jawline.

“Mmm,” he moans after a long moment, before suddenly putting a few more inches between us. “Are you sure your mother won’t miss you?”

Peeta’s always been considerate of my mother. Too considerate sometimes, if I do say so myself. Bordering on obsessive.

He is obsessed with keeping her approval, with never crossing any invisible line, with never even so much as mildly exasperating her.

I suppose it’s only natural though. She is the only parental figure he has in his life.

I’ve never been too enthusiastic to introduce him to my father and he’s never pushed the issue too far. Hunter Everdeen is a practical legend around Twelve—and beloved across the entirety of Panem—but he’s the reason, I’ve always privately felt, that I was isolated from all my classmates.

Sure, I’m already not the most friendly person to start with, in anyone’s book. As Haymitch never hesitates to tell me. But there was already very little chance of me making friends in school anyway. Being the victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games’ child dropped the chances of play-dates or sleepovers drastically. My father trusts no one. Not with his children.

And I didn’t mind for the most part. I’m too like him to enjoy people much anyway. This whole notion was much harder on Prim, who adored her fellow classmates and easily endeared herself to them as well. But no matter how darling my little sister may be, nothing changed our father’s mind and when he was set on something, it was practically written in stone.

I can’t even imagine how Peeta must feel, having to live in fear for the entire last year of our little secret being exposed. I may be nervous about how my father will react, but Peeta has to be outright petrified.

“My mother will be fine,” I murmur, rolling my eyes as I lean back against the wall now. “She’s got Prim and Archie to keep her sane until my father’s home.”

Peeta chuckles at me, a mirthful smile in his eyes. “And you got me,” he teases, tapping my nose with his finger.

I giggle in a way I withheld until Prim left. I wasn’t about to give her ammunition to mock me later on. “All to myself,” I add, matching his expression now. “For unlimited hours of the day.”

“That’s my girl, looking on the bright side.”

I snort. “Yeah, that’s me.” I’m the exact opposite of an optimist. I prefer expecting the worse and setting expectations low. Maybe it’s a learned behavior but, at least that way, I’m not crushed like my mother when things don’t pan out the way I want.

Peeta mistakes the look on my face to be one of hidden disappointment. “You’re father will be home soon, sweetheart. They can’t keep him in the Capitol forever.”

“Can’t they?” I mumble, not expecting an answer. Before he can offer one—because Peeta is nothing if not a fixer—I quickly segue to a new topic. “Where do you think you’ll go when my father does come home?”

He just shrugs the question off though, completely unbothered. “Anywhere but home,” he says simply, his stunning blue eyes clear as the sky they remind me of.

“Anywhere but there,” I agree, my smile twisting into a grimace.

/

A year ago, when I was barely fifteen, President Snow—Panem’s true Gamemaker, my father always said—demanded every victor extend their stay in the Capitol, even after the games ended that year. He gave no outright reason and my father was cagey to speak on the subject, but in the end, the president’s word was law and there was no room for argument. President Snow can demand of us whatever he wishes.

It was a cold, dreary autumn that year, with early snowfall, which was the leading cause to the significant increase in accidents and injuries. My mother, the born healer, had more patients than she could handle, and even while training Prim as her assistant, she required my help. I was to head to town and purchase a list of herbs from the apothecary shop her parents still owned. The people who disowned her, who had little to no interest in her after she married a man from the Seam, victor or not. The people who never cared to meet their own grandchildren, to acknowledge our existence even as we passed right by their shop, in their plain sight.

I was dragging my feet the entire walk there, already with a sour taste in my mouth, when I heard the loudest wail my ears had every registered. When I heard sharp words being screamed out, when the sound of a boy sobbing filled the air.

And my instincts took over, my every sense focused on finding the hurt and helping them, altogether forgoing the trip for my mother’s herbs.

I followed the commotion to the bakery’s backdoor. Right through the open threshold, it was crystal clear, the baker’s wife—the witch, as many of the kids at school referred to her—had beaten her youngest son senselessly.

He’s in my year, I’d realized abruptly, staring with an agape mouth at his bloody face. His eye was swelling and his nose and lip were smeared scarlet and the only thing that crossed my mind at first, was I recognized him as the blonde boy with the colorful notebook, who could never meet my eyes and always wore long sleeves.

Of course, I snapped out of the daze after only a moment. The witch turned and caught sight of me, snapping that no Seam brat was going to get any free handouts from her and to scatter before she called the Peacekeepers.

Something about the unmasked prejudice against the Seam, a place where people in Twelve had next to nothing and were seen as lesser than the merchants, jolted me into action.

“Get your hand off him!” I’d demanded, using my entire body weight, just as my father taught me, to push the door open as she tried to close it in my face. “Let him go or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

At that, I heard an ugly laugh and the door flew open again, my exerted force throwing it back into the wall.

“I’m serious, child,” she snaps, her blue eyes narrow and her mouth in a snide smirk. “I will call the Peacekeepers to remove you from my shop-”

I didn’t even let her finish. I wasn’t one to be messed with. Not when I just witnessed something awful firsthand, not when I had it in my power to do something.

I knew then I couldn’t bring my father home. He was owned by the president and the Capitol. To an extent, we all were. And I knew I couldn’t stop the games from happening or the possibility of my name being pulled from the reaping bowl. I couldn’t always make my mother come out of her room or even out of her bed, when her illness struck bad. And I couldn’t stop my siblings from crying for our father at night.

But I knew that day in the bakery, I had the power over Mrs. Mellark and I wasn’t going to let her get away with hurting her son anymore.

“Call them,” I dared, not an ounce of insecurity in my voice. “Cray is an old family friend.” He was actually indebted to my father, who’d kept the man’s secrets for too many years to count. But family friend rolled off the tongue more effectively.

“Head Peacekeeper is now making friends in the Seam?” She spat in disbelief. “No wonder this district is so rundown.”

She laughed humorlessly, but my focus was pulled towards the boy. He was covering the left side of his face, as if it hurt too badly to release. As if he was trying to stop his eye from swelling, stop his nose from gushing blood. As if he could hold his now split lip together with nothing more than the palm of his hand.

The sight hurt my heart to see. It burned a fire inside of me that only a true injustice could set alight.

“My father is Hunter Everdeen,” I snapped in the woman’s direction, not even basking in satisfaction when her face drained of all color. The idea that a scrappy little girl with olive skin and dark hair was the child of the most powerful man in all of Twelve struck a cord inside even the witch. “Still wanna make that call?”

The woman’s face was caught between anger and shock when I glanced at her again. And I hated her for it. I hated her and every single person in this district who hurt their kids, who took out their grievances on them, who made them cower and quiver in fear. Who raised them to be afraid of those they loved in a world already so awful.

I know I live a privileged life but, deep in my bones, I know even if things were different, my parents wouldn’t have laid a hand on us. Even if we were so poor I had to take tesserae, even if we were starving to the point of no return, even if we were practically homeless in the Seam, my parents would never hurt us.

“Leave,” the witch spoke then, but her voice was void of all emotion.

“Not without him,” I refused, my eyes planted on the wounded boy in front of me. The boy who was doing everything to avoid looking me in the eye, too busy covering his battered face.

I heard a sound caught between a groan and a shriek, before a cutting board was tossed across the room. “Just go!” She shouted at her son, causing him to flinch severely. “Just go with her!”

On her order, which sounded more distraught than angry, the boy had stormed out the back door and into the chilly evening air, still covering his face desperately, still looking utterly ashamed.

But he waited for me to catch up with him. He waited for me to guide him away from that awful woman he was forced to call his mother.

He didn’t flinch when I touched his arm nor when I took his hand. And when I led him away from the town and towards the village, he followed me without complaint.

Actually, he followed me without a single word.

I realized this just as my house came into view. “You never told me your name?” I whispered, looking up at him gently.

He had tears leaking from his eyes that he was doing his best to ignore, the bleeding on the left side of his face had barely even lightened up, his eye was swelling bigger and bigger, and yet, he chuckled a little at the question. “I’ve been in your class since kindergarten, Katniss.”

I felt my cheeks burn pink, even under the darkening sky. “I know.” But I still peered up at him, curiously waiting for him to tell me.

“It’s Peeta,” he finally answered, maybe a bit satirical.

“Peeta Mellark,” I suddenly recognized.

“Mhmm. Figured you’d pick up the last name.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s printed across the bakery in huge letters?”

“Oh.” He chuckled at my ignorance, causing my blush to deepen.

And I realized immediately how much I liked the sound of his laugh. How I liked being the reason for the sound.

My stomach did a complete flip at the notion and my ears abruptly felt hot, but I tried to push all this away, needing to get him to my mother.

“Wait,” he halted before I could even reached the front door. “Is your mother in there?”

I shot him a confused look. “Yeah, of course? Who else-”

I didn’t even get a chance to finish though. “I really don’t want anyone else to know about this,” he pleads, his eyes looking as frightened as they did with the witch.

“Peeta-” I start, opening my mouth argue, to convince him to go into the house and let my mother treat his injuries. To let me get him help.

But one look inside his desolated, defeated, terrified eyes and I couldn’t make myself do it. I couldn’t put him through any more than he’d already gone through. Not when he’d eventually have to go face the witch again at home.

“Okay,” I whispered, and I felt him squeeze the hand I didn’t realize I was still clutching. “Let me take you somewhere else. And I’ll try to fix you up myself.”

I wasn’t a healer like my mother and Prim. I was a hunter, just like my father, just like his very name, through and through. But I had witnessed enough of what my mother did—my father had forced me to witness enough of what she did, in case I ever needed the knowledge—and I was confident I had the expertise to help him.

My decision was validated by the relief in Peeta’s eyes, by the visible exhale he expelled from inside. He was ashamed, I realized, of his abuse. He was embarrassed to let anyone know what was happening behind closed doors.

I guided him by the hand outside the village, through the Seam—a place in which he’d never been before—and to the fence line.

“Isn’t it electrified?” He asked, his grip on my palm tightening. I liked the sensation for some reason. I liked the way his big hand felt wrapped around my small one. I liked how he wanted to hold onto me in the darkness.

“Nope,” I say, and let out a proud giggle. Or maybe a nervous one. Whenever I think back to this night, I can never tell.

“How do you know?” His blonde eyebrows knit together, still afraid in a way I’d never had to be. My father had taught me everything there was to know about the woods from a young age.

“Listen,” I urge softly, leaning my ear towards the fence.

He cranes forward too, waiting for the buzz of electricity to fill his ears. Only, just as I knew, it never does. Because it never has. The fence’s electricity was shut off long before we were even born.

I watched as his face registered the silence, as he realized and trusted I was right. And I beamed at him, before showing him the way my father slips beyond the fence and guiding him through the trees, towards the cabin, buried deep inside the woods.

It took an hour to find, not because of the blackened sky, but because Peeta’s face hurt so badly that his gait was slowed. But I remained patient, even though that was never my strong suit either. I waited for him to pick up the pace, to be ready to move, to find our way through the tall green trees. I pulled all the branches I could see out of his path, used the moon as our flashlight and didn’t complain once when he stumbled along the way.

By the time we got to the cabin, it had to be past Archer’s bedtime. My mother would be worried sick for me, but I soothed myself that she had plenty on her plate. I’m her firstborn. The child she understands the least, the one who’s like her husband in body and soul. I knew I was probably near the bottom of her worry list.

The very first thing I did when we entered the cabin was order Peeta to sit down in the dining room. I gathered my mother’s first aid kit from the bathroom, wet a rag in cool water and I got to work cleaning the blood from his face.

“This has to be gross for you,” he murmurs after a long stretch of silence. His eyes betrayed how self-conscious he must have felt.

Trying to alleviate his anxiety, I pretended to shrug it off. “My mother cleans wounds all the time. At our kitchen table, no less.”

Peeta made a noise that indicated he didn’t buy my act of ease. “I heard at school that you run from the sick and injured.”

I raised my eyebrows at the comment. No one at school talked about me. No one knew me well enough to. People stopped trying to get close to any of Hunter Everdeen’s kids years ago.

The longer I stared at Peeta in disbelief, the more he seemed to lose confidence in his statement. “Maybe I didn't hear it,” he finally amended. I brought the damp cloth back up to his face again as a reward, tenderly wiping away the blood, before using the clean side to set against his swelling lid, hoping to offer some pain reduction there as well. “Maybe I saw it,” he added sheepishly.

I furrowed my brows, even more perplexed by the elaboration. “Saw it?”

“When Leaf Barker tripped and broke his knee in Physical Education last year? You were almost green when you bolted out of the gymnasium.”

His words conjured up a vague image. Still though, something about this felt odd to me.

“How do you remember that better than I do?”

At that, Peeta shrugged. “I guess, I notice you sometimes?”

“What do you mean, sometimes?” I pressed, none of his words suddenly making a bit of sense.

“Why did you stick up for me tonight?” He abruptly segued, his expression shifting into something of defense, like he’s trying to deflect.

But I’m not one to be deterred. “I wasn’t going to stand there and watch your mother hurt you,” I stated, my voice remaining firm. “Why?”

He continued to walk around my question. “Is tonight the first night you ever noticed me?”

I pulled my hand and the damp cloth away from his wounded face, reaching in the kit to grab a white cream I’d seen my mother and Prim both use on swelling before. “Yes,” I finally replied, because I don’t know what else to say. That I saw him glance at me sometimes and then watched as his eyes flit away? That I noticed how he doodled in math class, because he found the subject boring? That I’d seen him lift a sack easily over his shoulder at the bakery and watched him beat almost every upperclassmen at wrestling, even while three years their junior?

None of that seems even remotely relevant to mention.

“When was the first time you noticed me?” I shot back, still being careful to apply the cream with only the lightest pressure to his battered eye.

“Kindergarten,” he instantly blurted out, his tone simple and bold.

I stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before chuckling, catching the joke. “Funny.”

“I’m serious,” he refuted, peaking his good eye open, the sky meeting a silver dollar as our gaze locked. And I see that he is serious somehow.

“What?”

“The first day of kindergarten,” he continued, after a long beat of me just staring him. His confidence had wavered once again and he was looking a bit regretful that he’d put this out in the open. “You were wearing a red velvet dress and brown stockings. Your hair was in two braids instead of one and your ribbons matched your dress. The teacher asked during music assembly who knew The Valley Song and your hand shot right up. She put you on a stool and you sang it, clear as day, for everyone to hear. Even the birds outside stopped to listen. And from that moment on… I was a goner.”

I just continued to look at him in disbelief, unable to put the pieces of what he’s said together. Finally, I whispered, “you’re telling the truth?”

“I’ve had a crush on you for forever,” he admitted, his singularly open eye giving away his nerves at the admission. “And I know you probably don’t feel the same way. I know you didn’t even know my name until tonight but I just wanted to say, in case we never have the chance to speak again-”

“Stop,” I cut him off, my mind already about to explode. “Stop, um…” I refused to look at him as I spoke, furiously staring down at my lap. “I need more time to… process this.”

He had a crush on me since the first day of kindergarten? He’d heard me sing and from that day forward he held a hidden candle for me?

And he never once worked up the courage to talk to me?

Dozens of moments suddenly race through my mind.

Cerulean blue eyes finding me in a crowd countless times and then pulling away as soon as I meet them. The time I wanted to play a stupid game at recess and a stocky blonde boy volunteered to be team captain, and then picked me first. The stunning drawing I found in my locker last year on Sweetheart’s Day, that I was convinced was put there by mistake, though it bore a striking resemblance to the doodles on Peeta’s notebook.

And before I could stop it, I felt myself begin to shake with nerves.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologized, seeing my frightened reaction. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… I didn’t know if I’d ever get the opportunity to tell you again-”

“Shhh,” I hushed, picking up the damp cloth once more. “Let me take care of your face. And then…” I hesitated again, unsure what to say in this situation. I had exactly zero experiences to compare this to. “Tomorrow we can talk more.”

Peeta nodded amicably, staying silent for the reminder of my ministrations. I felt a terrible pang of guilt for not responding the way he’d probably hoped, but there was still a part of me too stunned to even fully register the confession.

I was an outcast. I’d never fit in with the kids at school, neither town or Seam. I don’t look like the merchants and I’m too rich for the Seam folk. I would have been alone all the time at school if it weren’t for Madge Undersee, the mayor’s daughter who sat with me at lunch and partnered with me in class.

How could anyone have even noticed me to be anything other than strange? I barely spoke, even in classes where I knew all the answers. And I hardly participated in games or gossip. I had a father who insisted most days on picking me up himself from school, not allowing me to walk home alone like the other kids.

But the look in Peeta’s eyes was earnest. He wasn’t playing some elaborate trick on me, he wasn’t trying to coerce me into confessing something as well so he could humiliate me. He was being genuine in every way I could tell. And I had my father’s senses.

The same senses that helped him win his hunger games.

A new thought struck me out of the blue. Peeta seemed too kind and too considerate to have a mother who beat him like this. He doesn’t fit the profile of the kids in the community home, brought there by even less abuse than I witnessed firsthand tonight.

The insane urge to get to know him more, to learn more about this complete stranger who I went out on an impulsive limb for suddenly surges through my brain.

It wouldn’t be a good idea, I told myself. He’s a merchant and I’m the daughter of a victor. Two titles that seem not far apart in theory but are miles away from the other in practice. And I’m not experienced with people the way he is. I don’t know how to make friends or how to maintain them. I don’t know what he expects from me but it’s surely more than I know how to give. I don’t know what to say in a situation like this. Haymitch always tells me I’m as romantic as dirt.

But is that what I want to be? I asked myself as I finished fixing Peeta up. Do I want to be romantic? Do I want to be that girl who holds her boyfriend’s hand in the town square and kisses him under the moonlight? Do I want to put an embroidered ribbon in my hair and wear an expensive dress from the Capitol to go to the Sweetheart’s Dance? Do I want to sneak in through my bedroom window at the crack of dawn so my father won’t know I’ve been out all night?

If I could learn to be romantic, would I want to be?

And naturally, the answer I’ve always known automatically seeps through my brain. No. I’m not like my mother and Prim. I’m practical by nature, rather than fanciful. I’ve never truly obsessed about falling in love or fawned over even the most incredible looking men on the television.

But something held me back now. Something inside me said that answer, the truth I’d always known, is suddenly not entirely accurate anymore.

Because I find that I did want those things I just described. I did want to have someone to hold, someone to laugh with, someone who conjured up that same flip in my stomach as Peeta did earlier when he laughed.

I wanted the same kind of love my parents had. The kind of love that brought them both to life, despite the horrible circumstances they’d both separately endured. I wanted the kind of love that they showed me was possible, even in a world as bleak and as inhumane as Panem felt at times.

I only realized how long I’d been silent, contemplating my inner desires, when Peeta offered a minuscule smile and stood up slowly to leave.

I opened my mouth to speak but when his eyes met mine, every thought in my head was magically wiped away. I had nothing to say, nothing that could be of any sort of consequence, that could mean anything in comparison to his confession.

“I should head back to town,” he murmured, trying to appear nonchalant. “Face my mother. Hope she’s in a better mood now-”

But I couldn’t stand the idea of him returning to the witch, the idea of going to school tomorrow and acting like his words weren’t still spinning around my brain, the idea of even sleeping soundly tonight.

“Peeta,” I called just as he was about to reach the front door. “Wait!”

He turned towards me, looking puzzled by my outburst. “What’s wrong?”

And I don’t know what came over me. I still can’t place what made me—a girl who had never been decisive a day in her life—fling myself across the room and smash my lips onto his.

He didn’t respond at first. I caught him too completely by surprise. His lips hung there, frozen, as mine pushed against his, with too much force and an overload of desperation.

But I felt an incredible stirring in my chest, an odd sensation that felt akin to a giggle amplified.

And when he finally recovered from the shock of it all, his hands both came to rest on either side of my hips, his mouth began to move against mine, his knees bent to reach my height with more success, and the stirring turned to a fiery spark. I know he felt it too, as the kiss was swiftly disturbed by his wide grin.

“Don’t go back home tonight,” I gasped out, looking up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

His gaze melted as he took me in, he head bobbing in agreement without even needing to consider my request.

“Okay,” he’d whispered with a dazed smile, his blue eyes impossibly wild and sleepy at the same time.

His expression, his spirit somehow, was contagious, and I found myself somewhere stuck between a laugh and a blush when I replied.

“Okay.”

/

After that night, Peeta rarely went back home. I had called my mother and let her know I was staying at the cabin, but intentionally eluded telling her that the baker’s son was joining me. We’d spent the entire night talking in front of the fire, making each other laugh. The bashfulness I felt from my unexpected kiss stayed in my gut, causing me to bubble up with embarrassed laughter every so often.

But instead of that making things awkward, it cut the tension pretty smoothly. It was only months later did Peeta confess he’d felt just as nervous and just as shy about spending time with me. He was charismatic, I realize even that first night. Ironically funny. He was nice, in a way I rarely have found anyone to be. And, the more time went on, the more my desire grew to stay close to him. The more often I was around him, the more painfully I missed him when we were apart.

It was only a matter of time until my mother found out—not least of all, because my siblings accidentally caught us kissing in back of the school, a month to the day we first spoke.

I always imagined she’d be strict on me, the firstborn, when it came to dating. Especially in the world we lived in. Especially with my father’s position. I truly thought she’d forbid a relationship until I was of age. Maybe I was wrong about her. Or maybe she just saw how I looked at Peeta and understood that I wasn’t just being careless or rebellious. That whatever magnetic connection I felt towards Peeta wasn’t just an ordinary school-aged fling.

To my surprise as well, my mother seemed to take on a very similar stance to me when it came to Peeta and my father. Keeping the news of this entanglement from her husband’s ears was almost her idea.

“What are you thinking about?” Peeta asks me now, bringing me back to the present moment. His fingers tickle my neck as they brush my hair back behind my ear, touching one of the satin green ribbons weaved throughout my loose braids.

“You,” I reply coyly, shooting him a sly glance as I slip past him to head back towards the kitchen.

“Me?” He calls in mock disbelief. He trails up behind me, catching me by the waist and swinging me into his arms without warning.

“Peeta!” I exclaim, automatically wrapping myself around him as I try to steady my balance midair.

“What, baby?”

“Put me down, baby,” I mock, pressing my nose to his now, rubbing them together.

“I like holding you though,” he whispers, like he’s confessing some huge secret.

“Until your arms gets tired-”

“That was one time, Katniss.”

“I’m just reminding you,” I say with an air of superiority. “You don’t always appreciate holding me.”

At that, his demeanor falls a little. “I do when I realize I won’t be seeing you much in a few days.”

I feel my heart sink now too. As excited as I am at the prospect of my father coming home, after weeks apart, I always have to be a little more careful upon his first days back.

He always likes to spend time at the cabin and go for long walks in the woods upon his return. Spend more time in nature than the indoors, stay far away from people outside our family, sleep under the stars by the lake. The Capitol is apparently luxurious, but in my father’s own words, it is void of any true or natural beauty. Everything is artificial, man-made, concocted and orchestrated. There’s nothing that compares in his mind—or mine either—to a cool breeze on a sunny day spent in the meadow where the dandelions grow tall.

“But I’ll still see you in school?” I say, though my voice comes out as more of a plea. Peeta doesn’t always like to attend school these days, not when he knows his parents can easily track him down there.

His father, the baker himself, took the ambiguous loss of his youngest—his favorite—son particularly hard. It was only a matter of weeks after I intercepted his mother beating him that Peeta definitively decided to sever ties with majority of his family.

I’d like to say he made the choice all on his own but that’d be a lie. I watched as the physical bruises on his skin healed, as he began to peel back emotional layer upon layer to me, as he slowly told me what really had been going on in the Mellark’s family home. And I can’t say that I was impartial to his decision to cut the connection to a mother with a bruising fist and a father who closed his eyes and let it happen.

“Delly’s parents usually make me go to school so…” He shrugs it off, like it’s of no consequence, his arms hoisting me higher against his chest.

But I feel a sudden wave of gratitude towards the Cartwrights. They may be a little too jolly for my liking and their daughter, Delly, maybe can’t take a hint to save her life, but at least they always watch out for Peeta’s well-being. At least they cover for him when his mother come sniffing around and they feed him what they can afford and force him to attend class, where I’ll be able to see him.

“Good,” I murmur, at peace now. My father will be home soon and Peeta will be safely tucked away with his best friend.

I lean down and kiss his nose sweetly, reveling in the tender moment. His lips follow my lead and begin to plant themselves across my chin, underneath my jaw, causing me to squirm and squeal at the sensation.

“So,” he murmurs against my throat. “We have the entire place to ourselves, for the whole night, huh?”

His audacious smile elicits my own. “At least.” My father’s delays usually mean a minimum of two days.

Within a minute, Peeta has me on my back, against the softly quilted bed of my upstairs room. He takes his time helping me out of my clothes before I hurriedly shove his off, impatient and hungry.

He, of course, finds time to crack a joke. “Good thing Archie is too young to come here unchaperoned. Or else we’d never get the chance to do this.”

I roll my eyes and shove his mouth off my collarbone, utterly disgusted now. “Talking about my baby brother is one sure way to turn me off, Peeta.”

Archer, my three-old-brother, was an unexpected surprise, to put it lightly. My parents were done with two girls. My father joked him and my mother were both already set with one clone each, but alas, the year of the Seventieth Hunger Games was a year full of shocks.

A few months before the games that year, the coal mines—the industry Twelve is known for—exploded. Right in the middle of the afternoon, as everyone was obliviously going about their day.

It was a close call for many and one more reason my father is beloved around these parts. If he hadn’t been at the right place, at the right time, if he hadn’t volunteered to go with Prim and her class on a field trip down to the mines that day, there was a chance that no one would have noticed the gas leak.

It was too late to do anything by the time my father pointed it out, but his warning and the fact that people in Twelve take his word very seriously, managed to save the lives the inevitable explosion would have otherwise cost.

Through the outpouring of gratitude, and the overwhelming media coverage my whole family was abruptly bombarded with, my parents made the decision to pull me and Prim from school for a while, to hole up in the remodeled cabin, where no one could find us because of its illegal location.

I’ve never ask and I don't ever want to know when my parents conceived Archer. But about nine months after the vacation from the world, my mother gave birth to a little boy who looked identical to me and my father.

“Sorry,” Peeta whispers with a chuckle, collapsing beside me. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He moves to kiss my stomach, to trace circles on my hips like he always does. But I shake my head, a different request—or more like it, demand—on my mind.

“Tell me the story of how you first fell in love with me?”

Peeta rolls his eyes. Very dramatically. “You mean a year ago?”

“I mean in kindergarten,” I say with a smirk and then let out a shriek of surprise when he pounces on me, his lips attacking my neck.

“Aren’t you tired of that story yet?” He asks, his voice edging on exasperated.

“You never tire of a classic.” I give him a pout, knowing he never refuses me anything when I pull that trick.

I’m right, as per usual. “Fine,” he relents, but his eyes tell me that he enjoys telling this tale more than he leads on. “Come here.” He holds open his arms and waits for me to crawl into them, to settle against his chest.

I lay there for a long moment, my pointer finger running up and down the center of his bicep, as my ear rests against his heartbeat, patiently waiting for him to begin.

“It was the very first day of school. You were wearing a red, velvet dress…”

/

Read the rest on AO3 

#katnissmellarkkkk #prompt 59 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

[eyoricka]

Pete’s assistant - Pete Davidson

Words: 2160

Warning: 2 curse words

Requested: yes

You had been Pete’s assistant for many years now. You had begun as an intern at NBC and that’s how you met Pete. The two of you immediately clicked, there was like a strange bond between you like you always knew each other or were meant to meet, to work together. So at the end of your internship, Pete asked you if you wanted to be his assistant, to help him with pretty much everything. He wasn’t famous enough to really have a publicist, so you also fill up this role. It was funny at first. Pete was nice to you, never asking for anything impossible to get. Contrary to many other celebs with their assistant, he treated you like his equal. Planning interviews was something you enjoyed, he was mostly in some presented by his friends, so it was pretty chill, and you learnt so much. You let Pete took charge of his social media presence, he was more than okay at it, was natural and able to create a connection with his fans.

However, at some point everything changed. Pete got way bigger, he was famous like really famous, not just known by SNL and stand-ups afficionados.  Things got out of hand quickly. You still liked to work for Pete, he was still adorable to you but handling negative comments, the infamous song about him, people reactions and the repercussions on his mental health was a nightmare. You had too much to think about: to make sure he was feeling okay or at least not too bad, to make sure he would sleep, eat, not take too much drugs, go to work, go outside, try to stop the continuous harassment… Pete hired a publicist to take some weight out of your shoulders and have someone who would focus only on his impacted public image. Even though, Pete was probably at rock bottom, it was nice to see that he would still be kind to you, trying to smile a bit when you were ding your best to cheer him up.

And this is how the problems began for you. You knew the rule number one of any assistant: never fall for your boss. But you couldn’t help it. You had always loved his personality however you never considered having feelings for him. However, seeing him hurt, fragile but still caring about his close circle, still trying his best everyday for people he loved, still being nice when he could easily be an ass and take the heartbreak as an excuse, was enough to make you acknowledged that maybe you wanted to be more than a friend to him.

You decided to keep your emotions for yourself. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself or lose your job and friend for feelings that would never be reciprocated. To forget about them, you went on dates with several people, it was a failure. Every time you could stop yourself from comparing your date with Pete. Even if some people were funny enough, smart enough, kind enough, they were simply not enough. A date with them was pleasant but you couldn’t picture more, and it would be cruel to force a relationship with someone you didn’t have feelings for just to hide your current crush. So after some dates you gave up on the idea of finding someone for the moment and preferred to take time for yourself. As the year went on, you were the witness of Pete’s different and non-working relationships. You were happy for him, truly. He was able to move on which was great and he felt more like himself. But it still hurt to see him get far too involved in relations that were doomed to fail. He was too intense and passionate for his own good. You advised him to follow your example and take time for himself, to love himself and understand what he wanted, needed from a partner. Surprisingly, he did it and it did good on him.

A few months later, you were at a small gathering to celebrate Pete’s Netflix comedy special. The reviews were good, and the audience was following, it was great to watch Pete’s career on track to success, he would finally be recognized for his art. You were talking to Dave about the process of writing when you are down and how cathartic humor is. You glanced distractedly several times in Pete’s direction confident that you were discreet. As your drink was empty, you scanned the room to find the nearest bottle of a beverage you like. Your eyes met Colson’s ones and he grinned mischievously at you. You rose an eyebrow wondering why he looked like a devious elf and quickly manage to appease your thoughts, rationalizing that it was only Colson being his drunk and high self.  

As you made your way to the counter full of bottles to pour you a glass, you felt two hands clapped your shoulders. You turned promptly and faced Colson who was smirking even wider.

“What do you want?” You asked not surprised by his presence but cautious about what he was about to say.

“Well just to chat with a lovely assistant, it has been a while since we haven’t talk.” He replied sweetly, an innocent smile replacing his smirk and you understood fully well why so many girls were crazy about him.

“Cut the crap” You deadpanned, not in the mood for his banter.

“I still wonder why I try to sugarcoat things with you” he mumbled certainly more for himself. After some long seconds of silence, he let out in a charming voice: “Don’t you think that would be the perfect night?”

You weren’t sure of what he was implying. He liked flirting but you seriously doubt that he was since he would never cross that border, maybe he was just bored or wanted to tease you. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer that would fuel his joust.

“You don’t ask me the perfect night for what?” He added kind of amused by your lack of reaction. “Well I will tell you anyway because else it wouldn’t be funny. So my dear don’t you think it would be the perfect night to admit your badly hidden feelings for you know who.”

You gulped at those words. You attempt to come back with a witty, chill repartee that would show that you were diverted by this non-sense and not knowing about what he was talking about, but your mind was blank. You were sure that tonight before sleeping while your mind would replay this scene, you would think of many clever replies.

“Still no answer, I bet that this time it is not for the same reason, right” Colson joked, and you cursed yourself.

“I just don’t understand what you mean” you eventually managed to say, cringing at this lame attempt to act cool.

“Your blushing cheeks and stiff body are telling the opposite” Nice even your own body was now betraying you.

“I get that you are bored Colson and even if it would probably be the funniest thing of your night, I don’t plan on becoming the biggest idiot of the party for your entertainment. I know Pete doesn’t like me and it is okay, you can’t control someone’s feelings and…”

“I hope you realize that you already are the biggest idiot of the night” He cut you “and Pete is too. I can’t get my head around the fact that you are both blind, incapable of seeing the way the other looks at you. Shshshsh don’t reply, don’t want to waste my time on hearing you tell me that I am lying, imagining stuffs, and complaining about my behavior, I‘ve already had this long speech from Pete. You can do whatever you want, go tell him or don’t but just know that you don’t risk much. And don’t count on him to come, he is sure he has no chance. So please have the balls for the both you.” He was about to leave you there with many contradictory thoughts filling your head when he leaned to whisper: “But really please do tell him tonight, I bet some bucks with John that you would be the brave one, don’t prove me wrong.”

You nudged him and he burst out of laughter as you showered him with imaginative curses. You decided to sit few minutes just to take time to reflect. You needed to process what you just heard. If indeed had feelings for you, things would change drastically. You felt yourself slowly but surely drifting into panic. A part of your brain was screaming that it was lies maybe because it was easier to accept than the truth. You had dreamt of this but it was a dream and you weren’t sure that you were ready for that right now. Intrusive thoughts were running in your head defeating your ounce of rationality and calm. One of your hand was clenched on your drink firmly and you closed your eyes while inhaling and exhaling to relax yourself. From the outside you certainly looked crazy but you didn’t care, it didn’t even crossed your mind.

You were so focused on your breath that you didn’t notice someone siting next to you and neither feel this person hand on yours. When you opened your eyes, you detect that you were no longer alone and the person with you was none other than Pete. He softly smiled at you and you felt like dying inside, this smile was enough to make you forget any doubts, anything, to appease. You smiled back at him kindly. He seemed to be struggling to say something and you took the lead.

“I guess that Colson talks to you too, huh?” You questioned, your voice was a bit shaking and you had eaten half of your words however you knew that he had understood you.

“Kind of” he stated and your next words died in your throat, you were losing your confidence. Those tow simple words held a clear message: yes we talk but no I don’t like you. “Actually, John did most of the talking” he joked or at least try to. He was also way to stress to really be funny.

You wanted to say something, to admit what was consuming you inside nevertheless you were scared, you refuse to be too blunt on this. You had to be subtle, to find a way to make him realize but without saying it, so if the feelings were not reciprocal it would not be too awkward.

“Colson mentioned a bet on us” You hid your reddening face behind your drink and casually take a sip or at least as casually as you can considering your current position.

“I heard about it too” His fingers were drumming against his tights in nervousness. “I am kind of bother by it you see.” You nodded, you felt crushed inside, of course he would be bothered, who would not be bothered to be shipped with someone they don’t have feelings for. You did everything you could to remain still and not crack, not now, not in front of him, of his friends. “I don’t really any of them to get this money like I guess I want them to be right, but I don’t like them betting on us”. You blinked several times not sure if you were on the same page. “I am not very clear, I am? Well obviously, I am not, I have never been very clear in those situations. Maybe clearer than now, because now what I am saying is a mess, well normally it is confused but understandable. And I am rambling right now and I don’t even know why. Maybe because it is intimidating, like we know each other for so long and what I am saying is that it is different.”  

He had lost you with his confused sentences, was he trying to reject you or the contrary. You wanted a certain answer, not an interpretation based on a wrong reading of the situation, actually you did not want this answer, you needed it. He was still digressing when you took the courage to interrupt him: “Pete please listen to me okay.” He shut up and looked at you in the eyes, sort of hanging of the words you would pronounce. “I like you Pete and not like I like Ricky or John, I mean not like a friend. Do you understand?”

There were few awfully long seconds of silence before you felt Pete’s forehead against yours and his hands on yours. “Fuck, you are a lot better at verbalizing this than I am” He smiled brightly, he was so beautiful when he was happy. “Can I kiss you?” He asked still quite unsure and you gently pressed your lips against his. It was a short and sweet kiss, the kind that promise wonderful tomorrows full of love, full of life.

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #snl fic #pete davidson fic #pete davidson oneshot #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson fanfic

[muffledcries]

Jahmil French (July 29, 1991 – March 1, 2021)

We worked together on Soundtrack, and every single time you entered the room we all felt it get brighter. You were shiny, magnetic and so so kind. RIP and fly with the angels Jah. – JENNA DEWAN Really hate that this is real. @JahmilFrench you will be missed my friend. Thank you for your talents that pushed me, your energy that kept our little family on @soundtracknetflix glued together. I’m happy I was able to get to know you. Our work together def made an impact on me & You and your Mom felt like family back home. Today and everyday we will remember you and continue to be inspired to live and be great for you. Rest In Peace Jah. – CHRISTINA MILLIAN Honestly been at a loss for words since I heard the news. This doesn’t feel real. Jahmil, was one of the most talented actors I’ve ever worked with. One of the funniest kindest people I ever met. The life of the party, every room he would walk into he would always be dancing and making people laugh and smile. Too many good memories. Thank you Jahmil. Rest In Peace King. – AJ SAUDIN Heartbroken over the loss of our friend Jahmil French. We started on Degrassi the same year and I’ll never forget the day I met him. Jahmil was so full of energy and absolute joy to be around. The video on the last slide is how I always think of him, always dancing. He was such a special person and I’m so grateful for the memories we made. I still can’t believe it. Gone way too soon. He will be so missed by us all. – ANNIE CLARK My heart is so heavy.. Truly one of a kind. Rest In Peace. – CRISTINE PROSPERI I’m sick with the news of Jahmil’s passing. He performed Dave with such sensitivity and thoughtfulness and could make me laugh so easily. It was a pleasure to work with him and he will be missed. This is a real loss. Rest In Peace. – STEFAN BROGREN Jahmil had such talent and charisma that it would have been intimidating were he not also a real gentleman. He would show up to my house-parties with a crew of dancers and they would elevate the mood immediately. When life got messy he would handle himself with grace and levity. He was precocious. And his love for music (and dance) was contagious. He showed me Section 80 by Kendrick Lamar, made me appreciate Drake’s Houston sound… Wish I’d gotten the chance to catch up with him one more time, hear where his mind/dreams were at. – SAM EARLE Jahmil, your talents and energy will never be forgotten. One of the best smiles with the most beautiful soul. Jahmil, you will always be such a bright light in this world. – SARAH FISHER This one really hurts. Jahmil French was a truly kind soul and one of the most talented actors around. He inspired me with his confidence and support from the first day we met and will continue to do so forever. Thank you for everything you gave to this world through both your art and your humanity. Rest In Peace my friend. – CRAIG ARNOLD Much love to the entire Degrassi family on this difficult day. It was a complete honour to write for and work with Jahmil, an incredible actor and talent gone way too soon. – RAMONA BARCKERT An extraordinary talent and a bright light on and off screen. Rest in peace, Jahmil. – MICHAEL GRASSI So sad to hear about the passing of Degrassi cast-member Jahmil French. An endlessly talented & charming performer who was always fun to write for. Last time I saw him, he was nominated for a CSA for his work in the movie Boost and I was certain he was only getting started. RIP. – MATT HUETHER Jahmil was always such a kind person. My heart is heavy for him and his family. Thanks for all the good memories Jahmil, you really had an impact. I’ll cherish all the fun we had dancing at basement parties all those years ago. Still in shock. Jahmil will be missed. He was an integral part of the Degrassi family and certainly a huge part of my degrassi days. He always wanted to make people laugh and smile, a true joy to be around. Rest in Peace. – CHLOE ROSE Rest easy, my friend. Your talent, kindness and shining bright light will never be forgotten. – JESSICA TYLER Wanted to pay my respects to an incredibly kind, funny, and talented individual; Jahmil French. One of the first people I met on Degrassi, he immediately made me feel welcome. He disarmed you with a smile and his confidence and energy was infectious. You’ll be missed, brother. – DYLAN EVERETT Jahmil was one of the most gifted and effortless performers I’ve ever met. His vibrant personality lit up the room. Rest easy my friend. – MUNRO CHAMBERS I am heartbroken to hear about the loss of Jahmil. Jahmil was an extraordinary talent and a bright light on and off the screen. He was a joy to work with on Degrassi: The Next Generation. He brought an authenticity and burst of life to every scene he was in and infused his character ‘Dave’ with an airy lightness. Off screen Jahmil would always make me smile. He will be deeply missed. – LINDA SCHUYLER My heart goes out to the entire Degrassi community., but particularly of course to those who were closest with Jahmil. We have lost one of our own. Jahmil was kind, intelligent, extremely talented, and just a wonderful person. He was also of course an incredible dancer, and since I am the exact opposite we had a running joke that I had taught him all his dance moves. When I would completely ineptly do the Moonwalk, Jahmil would cheer me on, while everyone else would beg me to stop! RIP Jahmil French, your soul and presence are sorely missed. – STEPHEN STOHN A sad day for the Degrassi family. With a heavy heart I thank you for all the times you made me laugh, taught me dance moves, and gave me confidence as Adam. Thinking of all the memories we shared on and off of set. - JORDAN TODOSEY Thinking of Jahmil French & the entire Degrassi family today click here for the full post - LYLE LETTAU This one hurts me deeply. When I found out yesterday I refused to believe it! I wouldn’t except it and to be honest I still don’t quite believe it’s real. I love you and the energy between us was always genuine. Working with you was always a blast and you were always the coolest man in the room. Till we meet again my friend. – CORY LEE Terribly sad to hear about Jahmil’s passing. Whether I was his scene partner, or just a viewer, I was in awe of his sheer talent. A room was brighter because he was in it. A true performer, a great guy and a huge loss. #RestInPeace – JUSTIN KELLY I’m so shocked and saddened to hear this news about Jahmil. Jahmil was and is such a kind, fun loving, hilarious, full of life, hard working and professional person. He was my first real scene partner on a series I got to be a series regular on. I remember the day my agent sent me the casting for Degrassi. It said I would be playing Dave Turners love interest. So the first thing I did was pull up the good ol IMDB machine and find out who Jahmil French was. The same day as my audition a few mere hours later I got the call that the role was mine (pretty rare in this industry) I went in to do my fitting and thats when I met Jahmil, Spencer and AJ for the first time as they played an iconic trio on the show. They were all super friendly and nice to me and made me feel very welcomed to be joining the cast. I was nervous and 15 at the time. Jahmil was the integral glue that held the circle together and its would lead to an amazing friendship that I got to have with Spencer. I had only been slated to do 3 episodes on the show but I believe it was the on screen chemistry Jahmil and I had that lead me to stick around for longer. Jahmil always had a smile on his face. I would come in at 5am for our call to do prep and be so tired, but there he was hanging out in the green room dancing so full of energy and life. Jahmil LOVED dancing and he was really good at it too. And I’d ask him “How do you even have this much energy this early LOL” and he’d just laugh and smile. Any time we went down to block he’d be word perfect on his lines, hit every mark and bring such an amazing professionalism to the set it was mesmerizing to watch. He played every scene with a new beat that always kept it interesting and fresh. Jahmil was and still is such a kind hearted dedicated person who eventually really went on to flourish in his career and he will be deeply missed. Heaven really gained a new angel today, Rest In Peace and say hey to all the other pals up there. Spencer and I will pour one out for you - ALEXX BENOIT Rest in peace my guy. An amazingly talented actor who had such a presence on and off screen. – DEMETRIUS JOYETTE Jahmil was such a wonderful person to be around. so funny, so charismatic, so talented. and my god he loved his work. I’m devasted. Sending my love to his friends and family. In a year full of grief, it’s hard to comprehend how there can be room for more. And yet. Jahmil French was an incredible person, so full of talent and passion for his work. He lit up a room with his energy and dance moves. An easy smile and a natural charisma. He will be so missed. My heart is broken. I feel strange, announcing these things I wish I had told him more often. Reached out more often. The regret is acute. He deserved his flowers when he was here. I hope he knew how much love & admiration there was for him in this world. – AISLINN PAUL One of the most talented, kind hearted, funny spirits I’ve had the pleasure of building a friendship with. Jahmil is an icon. My love for him runs deep. Jahmil you will always hold such a special place in my heart. Thank you for being one of the most talented, compassionate, kindest, funniest friends I have. You were so loved. I’ll miss our dance offs. #Bhandurner forever. Jah literally won the title of most competitive goofball. What joy he brought to my life and to so many. So grateful for memories and deep convos with you, beautiful angel. Blessed that we got to be part of a big dysfunctional family together. Thank you for sharing your gift with the world. I just hope you knew how loved you were. I learnt so much working with this talented dedicated soul. Please send a prayer for his soul to go directly toward the light. – MELINDA SHANKAR Such a beautiful soul & a light to everyone around him. Rest in Paradise Jahmil. – JOELLE FARROW This moment will live in my mind forever. A beautiful soul, thank you for the years of memories and laughter. You’re a light my brother and I’m so happy we got to experience this crazy life together. I’ll always remember you dancing down the halls of the green room. Rest In Peace. – LUKE BILYK I’m devasted. My man, I swear I was just thinking about you not even a few days ago when I was making my new demo reel, watching all the old Degrassi episodes. So talented. So unbelievably wise beyond your years. You made one of the best times of my life even better. I’m so crushed. I should have called you. I dont deserve to miss you as much as I do now. I would always say my favourite actor on the show was Mr. Jahmil French. I would always watch his parts when going thru Degrassi material to either study my tech or to cut demos or whatever else. Not 4 days ago was I daydreaming about making some kind of new production with all of those talented people. My hearts broken. – DANIEL KELLY Jahmil was always the brightest light in the room. Smiling, dancing and making all of us laugh till we cried. Rest In Peace you beautiful soul. You will be missed… - ALICIA JOSIPOVIC This is absolutely heartbreaking. While I never worked directly with Jahmil on Degrassi, our paths did cross a few times. All you needed was 5 minutes with him to realize what a beautiful, talented, bright soul he was. My sincerest condolences to his family and loved onces. Rest In Peace Jahmil French. – ANA GOLJA Shocked & saddened to hear of Jahmil’s passing. Loss of such a talented and bright soul. Rest in Power cuz, I’ll pour one out for you, am so wishing this was a dream. – JAJUBE MANDIELA I join thousands of people around the world thinking about Jahmil today. A beautiful, joyful person to be on set with, truly intimidating on the dance floor, an all-around wonderful person to have known, gone just way, way too soon. Sending love to everyone who loved him. Jahmil, I hope you feel it too. – CHARLOTTE ARNOLD I didn’t know Jahmil very well, but in the few times we met, he was so explosively kind, charismatic and truly interested and invested in every interaction. I immediately felt accepted and got a sense of the deep compassion that so many others had expressed was within him. The impression I had always stuck with me and from all I have heard he was such a beautiful and loving person, the special kind that makes everything a little lighter. Thank you to everyone who has been sharing stories of their time with him. Sending love to Jahmil and all of you. – ERIC OSBORNE Jahmil was such a special human. A long-time acting student of mine, & my mentee. He was fearless and brilliant in his pursuit, and I’m so sad we won’t get to see more of his gift. I’m so grateful to have crossed paths with him, and I wish him eternal peace. – SALVATORE ANTONIO So sad to hear of Jahmil’s passing. He was so kind and so funny. I’m glad I had the chance to know him. You will be missed. Rest in Power Jahmil. Gone too soon. Will never be forgotten. – TAYSHA FULLER Even though I only worked with Jahmil for a little while he made a truly lasting impression. I remember when I first came back to set as Tori and I was incredibly nervous those first few weeks, but Jahmil was so welcoming and treated me and the other new cast members like we’d been a part of the cast the whole time. If he gave you a compliment or even said something as simple as “it’s so good to see you” you knew he genuinely meant it. It seems like a small thing but it’s hard to find that kind of authentic honesty in most people. He was an incredibly talented actor and always such a positive energy on set, and I’ll remember him for all those vibrant moments. Rest In Peace. – ALEXA STEELE This smile. This spark. This spirit. Jah I am missing you from this earthly plane we all love you. – MEGAN FERGUSON there never seems to be enough time… I don’t know if words can describe someone like Jah. He really was too special for this world. A true artist to his soul. I was lucky to call him my friend. Rest in Peace and Power Angel. you will be so dearly missed. – PAUL JAMES I guess I thought if I refrained from making a post, it would ease some of the pain.. but the more hours that pass, the more it sets in heavier. JAH. Mi familia. My brother. I am crushed. I have believed in you since the moment we met, and it makes me smile to know the feeling was 100% reciprocated. The purest soul. Always himself no matter WHERE he went. It takes courage to be that way you know? To have that strength. From Antigone to degrassi, to LA to NY you had EVERYTHING in you to shine. All the power, all the talent, all the intelligence the drive, the fearlessness. Your smile made me smile. Sweeterman jah, I miss you so much already. – SHANICE BANTON Dance on, old friend -through the clouds. I will see you on the other side. click here for the full post – SHANNON KOOK

#jahmil french #this took me forever but i wanted to make it pretty #he will be forever missed #:( #edit* #degrassi #idk why the scroll box isn’t showing up sigh I apologize for it being so long #dave turner

[yandere-daydreams]

How do you think the Shiggy and Dabi would react to a student darling? (Not like in a romantic way that would be weird they’re almost all adults.) I mean like, a darling who goes to hero school but is constantly belittled due to having a “villainous” quirk? Like would they try to protect them or would they try to convince them to join them and forget about heroism?

You might’ve said ‘not in a romantic way’, but you gave me two disgusting men and an emotionally vulnerable (of age) student. There’s only so many placed my mind can go, with a prompt like that. Consider this one personal indulgence.

TW: Third-Year Reader Insert, Emotional Manipulation, Mentions of Stalking, and Quirk-Based Discrimination.

~

You’d never thought of yourself as a bad person.

It was a hard thing to do, but you really, really didn’t. Your quirk was strong, the kind of all-encompassing, destructive power that’d be more fitting of a force of nature than a human being, but you knew how to use it responsibly, you wanted to use it responsibly. That was the whole point of becoming a Hero, honestly, and you were determined to go through with it, regardless of how many times your peers tried to test your resolve. Still, you tried to be nice. You tried to be helpful, and kind, and patient. Meekness was best, for people as ‘dangerous’ as you.

That might’ve been why you didn’t report it. The bullying, the harassment, those awful, awful letters…

That might’ve been why you didn’t report them.

You couldn’t have imagined they’d make a move somewhere so public. You figured you’d be safe on the afternoon train, surrounded by civilians and protected by the warm, welcoming embrace of visibility, but they seemed to disregard the watchful eyes of strangers as easily as they had all of your other defenses. You’d barely found an empty place to stand when an arm wrapped around your waist, lanky but muscular, dragging you down until your knees buckled and you were forced into a lap just as smothering as the limb that’d pulled you into it. A glance towards the pale, lithe hand, four of its fingers now pressed against your side, provided the identity of your aggressor, not that it could’ve been anyone else. You almost deflated, your shock always muted when it came to Shigaraki, but pure, unadulterated dread was swift to take its place, only made worse by the breathy chuckle soon muffled by your shoulder, Shigaraki not hesitating to make himself as comfortable as possible.

You didn’t blame him. No part of you doubted that this was going to be a long ride, and if you weren’t so stubborn, you’d grit your teeth and try to do the same.

“Let me go,” You muttered, attempting to make yourself sound more confident than you felt. It was difficult, but the constant mummer of bystanders kept you from panicking, making it easier to justify staying quiet and trying to seem as small as possible. You could only hope Shigaraki didn’t notice how quickly you’d started to shake. “Let me go, or I swear to god, I’ll rip your arm off your shoulder and beat you to death with your own fucking fist.”

“Feisty today, aren’t we?” The response came in a familiar voice, but it wasn’t Shigaraki’s. It was all you could do to shudder and throw a glare in Dabi’s direction, the man balled into the corner of the row of seat, leaning against the thin, steel wall and trying desperately to look like he didn’t know his companion. A medical mask was pulled across the bottom half of his face, but other than that, he hadn’t made an attempt to disguise himself. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he wanted to be noticed, just so he had an excuse to turn something harmless and innocent into a pile of ash. He smirked, when his eyes met yours, his lips curling upwards underneath fabric and elastic. “We’ve been through this already, yeah? You can make your little threats, but if you do so much as scream, the Handy-Man over here will do his thing, and we’ll be cleaning you off our clothes with a lint roller in less than an hour.”

“Half an hour. We’re ahead of schedule.” Shigaraki squeezed your hip playfully, as if there was some joke only the two of you were in on. Some joke he wanted you to laugh at a little too much. “But, that’s only if our favorite little sidekick is bad, right? And I’m sure we’ve gotten past the point of petty arguments.” Shigaraki paused, letting the gaze burn into the nape of your neck, urging you to nod and play along. You only scowled at the tiled floor, staying quiet. Shigaraki continued with a hollow sigh, his voice taking on a patronizing tone. “Apparently, the bitch still has some spine. Even with such a considerate offer on the table.”

“What offer?” You replied, not thinking before you spat out the question. You made a half-hearted attempt to stand, but Shigaraki just pulled you further back, refusing to loosen his hold until your back was flush against his chest. “All you two do is stalk me--”

“That makes it sound wrong, doesn’t it? Stalk ‘s just too harsh.” Dabi clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He leaned towards you, slightly, a scarred hand coming to rest on your thigh. You felt his stare as he scanned over you, lingering on your uniform before he moved on, something spiteful flashing across his expression. As if something about the blank U.A. greys and greens was enough to set him off. “We’re recruitin’.”

You didn’t indulge him a second to think, only counting the seconds until your station arrived. “And if I don’t want to be recruited?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Shigaraki was still smug, as theatrical as he was pompous, but there was something genuine about his tone, too. You didn’t know whether to be concerned for yourself, or thankful that he believed his own mantra. “We’re you’re friends, aren’t we? Or, we’ve been hanging around you long enough to know you’re not buying into all this ‘heroism’ bullshit.” He raised his free hand, gesturing in some vague, abstract gesture as he rested his chin on your shoulder, staying just close enough to keep you on edge. “You’re strong, you know you are. You know that’s why they’re trying to hold you back, too. No one at your little Hero School cares about seeing you improve. They just want to take what you have and control it.”

You could’ve laughed. “And you don’t?”

“I never said that,” Shigaraki countered. “But, I’m honest about that. I’m not going to dress it up and say I’m helping you, like all those teachers who work you to the bone before throwing you to those lovely classmates of yours.”

You had to stop, for a moment. He wasn’t wrong. Life wasn’t easy, not with a reputation like yours. Among villains, you might’ve felt at home, you might’ve been happy. You could find friends and learn and help people, every now and then, in your own, devastating way. It wasn’t the first time you considered taking Shigaraki up on his proposal, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last, but…

But, you couldn’t.

You were much too busy clinging to the idea that you weren’t a bad person, for that.

“Let me go,” You repeated, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m not going with you.”

A heavy, frigid silence followed your rejection, and for a moment, you wondered if they’d finally given up. But, your hope was forced down back down as soon as it surfaced, drowned under the weight of laughter, something between a chuckle and a snort falling from Dabi’s lips in clumsy, stuttering waves, Shigaraki joining in after a second of hesitation. You made an honest effort to free yourself, this time, to get away and run, but your struggle was met with a tightened grip and more laughter, deafening laughter. As if your refusal was the funniest thing in the world.

You guessed it was, for them.

“That’s cute,” Dabi mumbled, as soon as he caught his breath enough to do so. “You still think you have a choice.”

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompt #yandere imagines #yandere scenerio #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #bnha imagines #yandere boku no hero academia imagines #yandere boku no hero academia #my hero academia imagines #yandere my hero academia #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia imagines #my hero academia #yandere tomura #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki #yandere dabi #dabi x reader #yanderecore #yandere core

[closetfanfictionauthor]

in which matthias does not pick up any hints and nina decides to push him to the edge so he'll make a move.

Matthias Helvar was very much infatuated with one Nina Zenik. Nina knew it. Her customers at her coffee shop knew it. Their friends knew it. Their professors knew it. The university librarians knew it. Matthias didn't.

Men.

But Nina had the patience of a saint and so she waited. For days. Weeks. Months.

It's important to note that while Nina had the patience of a saint, she was not a saint herself. And she wasn't interested in waiting until she was an old maid before Matthias realized the filthy things she would let him do to her.

And so she took things into her own hands in a very much Nina fashion.

A small dose of jealousy was good for all men, as far as she was concerned. Matthias deserved a larger helping than she normally recommended for the frustration he'd worked her into over the past few months.

Her first partner in crime in her endeavour was one Kaz Brekker, a poor choice, but Nina had to start somewhere. For one, he didn't smile. Or wink. Or do much of anything with his face. In fact, in all the times Nina had known Kaz, she was quite sure she'd never seen him express any sort of emotion.

The first attempt occurred on a Monday while she was working at her cafe. Nina's boss had been warned in advance of what she was doing and had gladly turned a blind eye.

"As long as we're making money, do what you want Nina dear," they'd said and disappeared.

Matthias was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, in direct view of Nina, while she was working behind her counter. His gaze had passed over Kaz when he'd strutted into the shop and then pinned the man in place after five minutes passed and he was still at the front with Nina.

And then his gaze passed over Nina and Kaz after ten minutes had passed and Kaz was still there.

"Kaz, I'm begging you here. You gotta give me something to work with," Nina gritted out through her wide smile. She batted her eyelashes at Kaz and trailed one hand over his arm and up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt. Kaz tensed underneath her touch. His breath came a little shorter, and if she wasn't as close to him as she was, Nina would've missed the slight changes herself. She could, however, see Matthias tense out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm not an especially funny man," Kaz replied in that even tone of his.

"Boy, I'll say," Nina said. "You know how talented I have to be to act as if you've told me the funniest joke in the world. Come on, try for me."

Kaz was unmoved.

"I'll give you five kruge?"

A slow blink.

"It'll make Matthias want to kill you?"

Between Nina inhaling and exhaling, Kaz transformed into a different man right before her eyes. The tension melted from his always stiff shoulders. Gone was his military straight posture, instead bending towards Nina.

"Should've started with that, Nina darling," Kaz said, his voice suddenly two octaves lower. Paired with the lopsided smile that spread across Kaz's face, and Nina was left momentarily speechless.

"That's-that's…wow," Nina stuttered. "Is this what Inej has to put up with?"

"Only on very special occasions. I don't like to smile. It contorts the face unnecessarily," Kaz replied, his regular sternness appearing briefly before he pushed it away again.

"Where is Inej?" Nina asked as she trailed her fingers across her collarbone, a move she knew regularly worked on men to attract their notice downwards. Kaz's eyes stayed firmly focused on her face.

"She's got an exam for international law coming up that she's studying for in the library," Kaz replied. "Which reminds me, I have a group project to work on."

"What about your other group members, surely they can manage without you," Nina said as she flicked back her hair, a move that brought attention to her chest. She could feel the heat from Matthias's glare all the way across the shop. She couldn't help but grin even wider.

A sharp crack caught the attention of everyone in the room. Kaz turned around and Nina looked over his shoulder to see Matthias at his table. Pencil snapped in half. He let out a string of swears as he grabbed his bag and aggressively rifled through it, looking for a new pencil to write with.

Kaz turned back to her as if nothing had happened and leaned over Nina to whisper in her ear as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger and giggled. "This project is worth half my mark and if those imbeciles I'm forced to call partner's cock it up, I'm going to have them buried somewhere no one will find them."

"If this is what Inej is subjected to, I don't envy her," Nina said, leaning in to whisper into Kaz's ear. She never knew what Kaz would've said in response because at that moment Matthias pushed back his chair with a loud scrape, slung his bag over his shoulder, glaring at Kaz the whole time, and marched out the front door.

Kaz leaned back, one arm braced against the counter as he watched Matthias's large back retreating. "I think my work is done here. Always a pleasure working with you Zenik."

***

Matthias was a creature of habit, which was unfortunate for him, as Nina had his routine memorized and used it to her advantage.

Jesper proved a much more enthusiastic actor. But then again, Jesper regularly irritated everyone to distraction, so it wasn't much of a stretch.

Nina was seated facing the entry to the library, where she knew any second Matthias would walk through the door. Jesper right on cue came dashing into the library, made sure to knock into Matthias on his way in, and then bounded over to Nina. Matthias was still glaring after Jesper's back when the boy in question slung an arm across Nina's shoulder and kissed her on the cheek, dangerously close to her mouth, before taking the seat next to her.

She saw Matthias freeze where he was as he stared at the two of them. Nina threw back her head and let out a laugh as Jesper slouched in his seat, his other arm thrown across her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

"I didn't know you had such a performance in you," Nina said.

"I dare you to find someone out there who wouldn't jump at the opportunity to piss off Matthias," Jesper replied.

Nina made a big show of looking around and then acting as if she'd spotted Matthias. She gave him her biggest smile and waved him over. He stared at her for so long she was almost certain he would turn around and ignore her. But eventually, with the air of a man who had cinder blocks tied to his feet, Matthias stomped over to their table and let his bag slide off his shoulder.

She pretended to giggle as if Jesper had said something hilarious. "Be nice, he's just gruff."

Jesper nuzzled into the crook of her neck, smiling against her skin and whispered, "He's an idiot."

"He is not and you know it," Nina said, trying not to let her temper rise.

"He still hasn't figured out you're mad for him," Jesper pointed out.

"Not everyone is a flirt like we are."

"Matthias!" Jesper exclaimed with a wide grin as the broad-shouldered man violently pulled out the chair across from them and sat down. Jesper had a hand on Nina's neck and was gently massaging the tense muscles there.

Matthias gave a grunt in response. His eyes locked on Jesper's hand as it kneaded Nina's soft skin.

Jesper acted as if he hadn't noticed, and kept going. Jesper could've declared he planned to plant an explosive in the library, and he doubted Matthias would've heard him.

"My da's coming to visit," Jesper said.

"Mhmm," Matthias agreed.

"I figured I might show him around the city."

"Hmm."

"And did I forget to mention I'm getting married!"

"Congratulations."

"I was thinking of having it on a floating barge going down the river."

"Wow."

"Kaz might even agree to wear a dress."

"Definitely."

"Although of course I'll have to skin a bag full of kittens before he'll do it."

"Necessary yes."

Jesper kept going as Matthias refused to look away from Nina's neck. Jesper's hand moved across her shoulders, kneading at the skin there. Nina let out a sigh. Matthias stiffened in his seat.

"Maybe I should accompany you when you show your dad around," Nina said in a breathy voice, her head tilting as Jesper continued to knead. Matthias's eyes were hungry as they roved over her neck. Jesper's grin widened as he imagined Matthias was likely becoming very uncomfortable right about now.

Jesper leaned in close to her face so that Matthias had no choice but to look at him and said, "You know, maybe you're right Nina darling, hospitality is most certainly," and here his gaze wandered down to her exposed cleavage and then locked on Matthias, "one of your stronger assets."

There was a small crack as Matthias broke off a piece of the wooden table.

"Mmm," Nina agreed and let her head fall back, exposing her throat and closing her eyes. The look on Matthias's face when it snapped to the smug look on Jesper's face was murderous. If looks could kill, Jesper reckoned he would've already been gruesomely dismembered.

If only Matthias wasn't such an honest man, people wouldn't make it a hobby to get under his skin. He leaned forward and looked to be about three seconds away from lunging across the table and wrapping his large hands around Jesper's skinny neck.

And everything probably would've de-escalated if Nina, in that moment, hadn't moaned while her head was back and said, "that's the spot Jesper, yes."

Jesper and Matthias were banned from the library for the rest of the semester.

***

There were not enough words to describe the level of irritation that Nina had reached. How much farther was she going to be forced to go with Matthias before he finally snapped? The man was constantly on the edge of giving in and doing what she knew he wanted as much as her, and yet he just wouldn't give in.

She had to get more drastic. And if this attempt didn't work, then Nina was going to jump him in his bed in the middle of the night. Enough was enough. A girl needed release, and he was going to give it to her, screw his honour.

It took place in a club. The music was thumping. Nina could feel it vibrating in her bones, and could barely make out the words that Wylan was yelling. It was too dark to see much of anything, but Nina made sure she would be easy to spot when Matthias eventually found them.

"Nina, I don't think this is a good idea," Wylan yelled, as his eyes darted around anxiously.

"I'm not asking you to have sex with me right here in front of everyone," Nina yelled back.

"I still don't like it, Nina. I mean, have you seen Matthias," Wylan replied. "The man could snap me in half."

"You let me worry about Matthias. Now touch my boob, Wylan."

"Isn't there something else I could do instead?" Wylan asked desperately, his eyes glancing back to the door to the men's bathroom.

"Wylan."

"Can't I just put my hands on your waist?"

"Touch the boob."

"Nina-"

"You said you were willing to help make him jealous, didn't you?" Nina demanded.

"I mean, yes-"

"Then touch my titty. It's just a boob, Wylan, I'm not asking you to marry me here. Just cup the boob."

Nina clamped her hand down on Wylan's neck and yanked him down until his forehead was resting against hers. She placed one hand of hisi on the small of her back and the other on her waist.

"Nina, he'll be back any minute," Wylan hissed.

"That's the point."

And bless Matthias, for the man always seemed to be on cue, even though he didn't know it. In that moment he exited the bathroom. And because Nina could sense the presence of that man like it was her sixth sense, she only had time to tell Wylan, "I'll make it up to you," and then gently pressed her lips to his.

The poor boy gave a start in surprise, but Nina had a steel grip on his neck and kept him in place. It was dark enough that Matthias couldn't see Nina speak against Wylan's lips and tell him, "Now take the hand at my waist and slowly slide it up to my boob."

"Nina, I can feel him stripping the skin from my body with his eyes," Wylan responded against her lips. Nina could do nothing but hum in agreement, as loudly as she could, to make sure Matthias heard it. Wylan's hand moved at a snail's pace from the swell of her hips, past the dip of her waist, and up to her breast, where he hesitated for a moment before finally letting it rest on the swell.

"You owe me for this," Wylan said seconds before he was yanked off of Nina by a fuming Matthias.

"You are in public," Matthias snapped at the two of them. Wylan had his hands up in front of his chest in surrender. The second Matthias took his eyes off Wylan, the boy disappeared into the crowd. Nina couldn't help but feel smug. Triumphant.

"And what about it?" she demanded, taking a step towards Matthias.

"People can see you," he barked at her, taking a step closer.

"Good. Maybe I want people to see," Nina snapped defiantly and took another step closer until she was chest to chest with him. "Maybe I want people to think I'm spoken for."

She stared into his eyes and said, "Maybe I want to put on a show."

Matthias's pupils were already blown, but at Nina's words, they overtook what little colour was left of his irises. He stiffened, but couldn't stop the urge to sway towards her.

"It's inappropriate," his voice was gravelly and lower than before.

"Is it? Or is it only inappropriate because you're the one watching instead of the one participating," Nina said, and stepped closer still until she was chest to chest with Matthias. He clenched his jaw and looked down at her, unable to look away as she looked him up and down and then licked her lips when her eyes met his again.

"I don't-" Matthias choked out.

"In that case, let me go find Wylan and we can pick up-" she interrupted, and abruptly turned her back on Matthias and stepped away.

She hadn't managed even a step before Matthias's arm wrapped around her waist and in the blink of an eye, Nina found her back pressed to a wall and Matthias pressed up against every inch of her front. He was bent over her, his body blocking out the rest of the club.

"No," he said with finality.

"No, what?" Nina asked. She pressed one hand to his chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath as she explored and then slowly wrapped her arm around his back, and then the other one joined until she could spread both palms on his back and pull him closer. He was so solid and so warm. Nina desperately wished they were alone and with far fewer clothes on.

"No, you're not going to Wylan," Matthias replied. He seemed equally incapable of keeping his hands off of her. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, his large hand spanned from the small of her back to her hip. Nina's heart stuttered when he gave it a squeeze, tilting her pelvis towards his and bringing her even closer.

Nina slowly slid one arm from his back, over his chest, and around his neck. "Mmm, it doesn't have to be Wylan. I can always find someone else."

"No," Matthias snapped. His free arm touched the arm wrapped around his neck, followed it to Nina's shoulder and then slid it down until his hand skimmed her breast. Nina was breathing so hard, and her heart was pounding so fast, she thought she would have a heart attack and die right there.

"Why not, you don't want me, right?" Nina breathed as she pulled herself closer still. She wasn't the only one having trouble breathing. Matthias looked as if he was about to have an asthma attack. He slid a leg in between Nina's as he gave another squeeze around the waist. Nina's breath stuttered as she gave a roll of her hips and watched a shudder pass through Matthias.

He nodded his head in agreement as his other hand covered her breast and he idly passed a thumb over her nipple. Nina gasped and couldn't stop herself from arching into him.

"You're a terrible liar, Helvar," she said breathlessly. Nina pulled him down towards her, buried her face in the small space right behind his ear, and breathed him in.

"We should...stop," Matthias panted into her neck. "We should...do this properly…"

"Matthias, if you do not take me to your room and make me forget everything except your name, the next time you catch me with a man, it's going to be even worse than Wylan," Nina threatened him. She rolled her hips one more time to drive her point home.

Nina considered herself very fortunate that Matthias was a smart man.

#fanfiction #grishaverse #matthias/nina #helnik #nina zenik #matthias helvar #romance #jealousy #au #this is like lowkey an au?

[marril96]

Pretty in Pink

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena has had it with your disorganization and blatant lack of respect for witchcraft.

A/N: Based on this post by @gayarsonist

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

It was the third time it happened this week.

Third bloody time!

Rowena was furious, fuming, face burning red as her hair — or it would be, if her hair weren't neon pink, glowing even in the bright fluorescent light of the bathroom.

"Y/N!" she shrieked like a banshee — worse, even — as soon as she got a glimpse of the monstrosity on her head in the mirror.

She didn't bother slipping on a robe or throwing on a towel — she ran out, arse-naked, blood boiling. Pissed off enough to take a life with a single glare.

She'd told you multiple times to take better care of your shite. Begged you, even, and she didn't beg. Not just anyone. But no matter how many times she asked and pleaded and shouted, you never seemed to get it in your pretty wee head.

"Wha—" Your mouth fell as she emerged from the hallway, jaw hanging in a big, long O. Your eyes bore into hers, swiped down to her body — her pale, bare body, still dripping from the shower, glistening in the light — and finally landed on her hair. A snort tore from your throat, undignified, filthy as that of a pig. "Oh, my god!"

Your laughter rang in Rowena's ears, a seemingly endless echo. She grit her teeth to hold back a growl more animal than human that threatened to break free. Squeezed her hands into fists so tight her knuckles flushed white as sheets. "This is not funny, Y/N!"

Your face grew serious for a moment, for a measly second before another fit of laughter took you over. "I think it's hilarious," you said, doubling over, tears sliding down the corners of your eyes. You couldn't help it — the more you looked at her, at her impossibly pink hair, the harder it was to control yourself. "I'm sorry."

You were not sorry.

"How many times have I told you to stop leaving your potions in the bathroom?" Rowena snapped.

Too many times. More than she could count. She would understand if magic were a novelty to you. But you were a natural-born witch. You'd always had magic. Rowena had been your mentor for five years, and your girlfriend for four — proper storage had been one of the first things she'd taught you.

And yet.

And yet.

You straight up refused to listen. Sometimes it felt as if she were speaking to a wall, though, at this point, Rowena was certain a wall would have retained the knowledge sooner.

It was easier to store potions in old shampoo and soap bottles, you always said. Why waste money on vials when you had perfectly good ones at home? Leaving them at random places around the house was just practical. Keeping them in a cupboard, as Rowena insisted, was old-fashioned. The bathroom, the living room, the bedroom — they all needed a potion or two, to liven them up. To make it clear to anyone who visited (though no one ever did) that there were witches living in this house.

It had never even occurred to you that you were messy.

It had occurred to Rowena. Multiple times over the years.

You shrugged.

Rowena stomped her foot angrily, fed up with your nonsense. Fed up with years — bloody years! — of it. What kind of witch lived like this, in this mess, in complete and utter disorganization, and saw no issue with it? What in hell was wrong with you?

What in hell was wrong with her for putting up with it?

Right.

She loved you. As reluctant as Rowena was to admit it, you had your good sides. You were kind to her — always had been, even back when she deserved not a sliver of it. You were there when she needed you. Held her without her having to utter a single word, without her having to plead for comfort. Showered her with love every single day.

Rowena couldn't have asked for anything — anyone — better, but still…

Why was it so hard for you to be a normal witch?

"It's not my fault," you said, trying — and failing, miserably so — to retain a serious face. "Maybe you should stop using the shampoo."

Rowena scowled. Wished she could find it in her to kill you for anyone else would surely be dead by now. "It's my bloody shampoo!"

"Oh."

Oh?

Oh?!

"Maybe you should stop reusing the bottles!" she snarled.

"It's much less wasteful this way," you said. "Besides, it's kinda cool."

"It is not 'cool' in any way, shape, or form. You are making a mockery of witchcraft."

You blinked. Snorted like a pig. "You're taking this way too seriously." Under your breath, you added, "For someone with bright pink hair."

"I'm taki—Are you joking?" Rowena said, outraged. Trying to ignore that last comment despite wanting to curse you out for the nerve alone. "Us witches have spent centuries rebuilding our reputation after our numbers dwindled during the trials, and this is what we get from witches today? Potions in shampoo bottles? Elixirs in bloody moisturizer containers?"

"I don't use moisturizer containers for—"

"That's besides the point!" She pointed a finger at you, nail bright red as her face. "You are a disgrace!"

Rowena wasn't sure what she expected. A sliver of self-reflection. A long, hard look at what you were doing. A promise you wouldn't do it anymore. Hell, even a simple nod in acknowledgment would have sufficed.

Out of everything, the last thing she thought you would do was burst into another fit of laughter.

Yet here you were, laughing as if you'd just heard the funniest joke in your entire life. Face buried in your hands to hide it, to hide yourself from Rowena's murderous glare. To protect yourself from judgment you knew would come your way.

"You know," you said, barely containing yourself to let the words out, "this would be a lot more epic if you had clothes on." An undignified snort. "And if your hair wasn't pink."

Rowena gaped. Fixed her stare on you, cold and deadly. Some audacity you had to talk to her like that. People revered her. Feared her. Thought twice before pissing her off. And here you were, mocking her to her face.

She'd given you too much freedom. From the moment you'd met, she'd never enforced her unspoken rules. Had never set boundaries and demanded respect. She supposed she always knew you were more than just another young witch tagging along, begging to learn her tricks. There was something different about you. Something — gods, she hated to admit it — special.

You fell in love with her, and had, in turn, taught her to love you back. Had shown her that it was okay, that it didn't have to hurt. That it was a strength rather than a weakness.

And now, when she was in deep, you laughed at her.

Rowena sighed. The things we allowed for love…

"There is no talking to you, is there?" she asked, completely and utterly defeated. She could teach you magic. She could teach you complicated spells and incantations, but she couldn't teach you how to properly store your potions. She could never make a proper, dignified witch out if you.

"I just don't get why you're making this an issue," you said.

Rowena could tell you didn't. You truly understood nothing. Had no respect for tradition. Witches today, honestly… "I'm—" She stopped herself before falling into another monologue you clearly didn't care for. Cleared her throat. Lowered her voice before saying, "Forget it. It's fine."

What point was there for arguing, for telling you — again — when you were clearly intent on not listening? You'd set your mind on doing things your way, and there was no changing it.

My stubborn wee lamb, Rowena thought, to her surprise, affectionately, cursing herself for being unable to stay mad at you. You were too stubborn for your own good. Too bloody strong-willed. A trait she admired, but, gods, it was frustrating to argue with you.

Maybe that was what she needed. Someone who wouldn't bow down to her. Someone who would stay strong and fight back against her silly demands, who would keep her feet firmly on the ground. Rowena couldn't deny she'd learned a lot from you. You'd helped her change. Helped her grow. Helped her become a better, kinder person. She would forever be grateful for that.

Just…

Why did you have to be such a bloody child?

"Could you at least put labels on your… creations?" she asked. Hoped with everything she had at least this one tradition you would be willing to obey.

What kind of a witch sorted her potions by bottles instead of names?

"Sure," you said.

Rowena breathed out in relief. "Now you are going to fix this." She pointed to her hair.

You chuckled. She was beginning to hate that sound. "Why me?"

"Because you did it."

"You're the one who took the wrong bottle."

"And you are the one who used the old bottle of my shampoo and left it in the bathroom."

"Fine," you conceded. A sly smirk bloomed on your mouth. "Can I take a picture first?"

"You cannot!" Rowena exclaimed, angry, offended at the mere thought. It was horrifying enough to have hair that glowed in the dark. But to have a picture of it? She shuddered. Who would want to remember this monstrosity?

You would. Your laugh said as much, and so did your hands as they reached for your phone and snapped a quick picture.

Rowena was fuming. "I am going to hex you!"

"No, you're not," you said nonchalantly.

She grunted like a trapped animal. You were right. She would not hex you. She would not do anything but glare and pout, and once you wrapped her up in your embrace, that would cease, as well.

Because she loved you. She was a fool in love, and she hated and loved it at the same time.

Some scary witch she was.

.....

Tags: @werewolfbarbie​ @oswinthestrange​ @songofthecagedmoose​ @apurdyfulmind​ @getthesalt-sam​ @metallihca​ @salembitchtrials​ @jay-eris​ @hellsmother​ @elizabeth-effie​ @shadowgirl-vsb​ @rowenaswife​ @wonderifshelikesroses​ @xfireandsin​ @liddell-alien​ @hotdiggitydammit​ @lae-lae​ @darkhumorsblog​ @angel7376​ @cherrypierowena​ @evil-regal-vampiress​ @hellbentredhead​ @angel-e-v-a​ @a-queen-and-her-throne​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @theeasterbilby​ @midnight-lestrange​ @osterhagen​ @impala-1979​ @gracib16​ @feelsandotps​

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #spn family #supernatural #rowena x reader #my fics #fanfiction

[sunfloweradoring]

the one with the playlist

Strap yourselves in! This is big one, but I hope you enjoy! K xxx

masterlist

word count: 5k

It was certainly not the first time we’d been parted. Indeed, it was almost more common for one or both of us to be jetting off to some new location than staying in our own flat. However, that fact did not, in any way, alleviate the pain and sorrow the pair of us experienced with each prolonged separation. In the almost four years since we met at that stupid party so much in our lives had changed - yet the biggest constant was the feelings Harry and I shared for one another.

That’s why I found myself tearing up more than usual this Wednesday night.

“I’ll call you every day.” Harry reassured, glancing up from his almost completely packed suitcase to my eyes as I sat on the other side of the bed from the object. I tried my best to give him a convincing smile, nodding softly. “Baby...” His tone seemed to send me over the edge that I’d quite frankly been teetering on for the last three days. He abandoned his packing, pushing the suitcase down to the end of the bed before crawling towards me. Within a second he pulled me against him, his lips pressing kisses to the top of my head as my cheek squished against his chest.

“I’m just gonna miss you, ‘s all.” I muttered into his jumper, my fingers clutching desperately to the material as if I could hold him against me forever instead of letting him go on tour. 

“I know, lovie, I know. And I’m gonna miss you too, so much. But before you know it we’ll be together again!” His voice picked up a little towards the end. “You know, you’re gonna visit me in America, and we get two whole weeks together then, and then it’ll only be a little bit until I’m home again.”

“But then you’ll go again.” 

“You’re pretty shit at taking comfort, have I ever told you that?” I giggled quietly as his fingers playfully prodded at my sides. I squirmed in his grasp in attempts to escape his attack. 

“Just let me be sad!” I laughed, sitting between his legs when he finally released me. His eyes lingered, darting between mine and my lips. The silence that took over was one completely void of awkwardness. “I love you.” I almost whispered the words as I crawled up his body, swinging my right leg over his left, straddling his waist. His hands pushed up my thighs, curving around my waist as he pulled me forward into him again. 

“I love you too, Sunflower.” I could feel his smile against my neck before I let out a little whine of annoyance. 

“You know how much I hate it when you call me that.”

“Yeah, that’s why I do it.” I pulled back, hands on his chest as I inspected the smirk spread across his features. 

“Arsehole.” I laughed, shaking my head.

“Yeah, but you love me.” His hands dropped from my waist, grasping my bum in a squeeze. 

“Don’t know why.” I mumbled teasingly, glancing my eyes up to meet his as he let out a small ‘heeyyyyy’. I released another laugh, leaning forward to steal a quick peck from his lips. “I’m joking, my love. You know I love you because you’re the sexiest, funniest and all round best person in the world.” My lips ghosted over his, allowing me to detect the subtle darkening of his eyes as lust overtook him. 

                                                ---------------------

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” I asked for what was probably the fifth time in the last thirty minutes.

“Yes, woman, Christ.” Harry replied in fake exasperation. 

“Alright, alright, I just don’t want you calling me, crying, because you didn’t bring enough knickers.” I smirked, stepping out of the apartment. 

“Don’t wear knickers. Imma man.” He grumbled in return, delivering a playful slap to my bum before locking the door. “You don’t have to take me to the airport if you don’t want to, honey.” 

“But I do want to.” I grinned, getting into the car as he loaded up the boot with his numerous bags. As he reached out for the passenger door’s handle, he gasped.

“Wait, hang on one sec, I forgot something.” He said, holding his finger up before jogging back to the door, unlocking it and disappearing inside before I could chastise him for his forgetfulness. Not two minutes had gone by before he reemerged, locking the door once more. To my surprise, though, his hands were just as empty as they had been when he left the car moments before. When he entered the car I shot him a questioning look. “What?”

“What did you forget?” I asked, pulling my seatbelt across my body and fastening it.

“Oh, nothing, realised I actually did have it already.” Harry said, his lips quivering slightly. In the last four years I now knew this to be a tell-tale sign that he was trying his utmost to keep the smirk that was fighting its way onto his face at bay. Of course I wanted to dig deeper, get a truthful answer from him, but I knew we were already running out of time to get to the airport on time for his flight. 

“Okay... you weirdo.” I giggled, starting the car and backing out of the driveway.

                                               ---------------------

The lump in my throat was growing every second I watched the five boys (well all young men now) checking off their things with the tour manager. 

“Alright, I think we’ve got everything. Let’s hit the road, again!” He spoke, quietly chuckling to himself as he put his clipboard away after a final chat with Zayn. 

“It’s actually on the road again.” Louis sarcastically remarked, pulling his rucksack onto his shoulders before hugging his sister Lottie. Harry and I exchanged a look and laugh before he approached me, pulling me into a hug.

“I’ll call you everyday.” He repeated the words from last night into my hair as he squeezed me as hard as he could without hurting me. 

“I love you so, so, so, so, so much!” I spoke, head nestled into his neck. 

“I love you more, angel. I’ll see you soon, yeah? Keep my side of the bed warm for me.” He pulled away, eyes momentarily scanning over my face, noting the well of tears in my eyes I was refusing to release in front of him. His lips pressed to mine, and even though it was but a few seconds, the kiss we shared held so much passion and love I felt my heart race. Pulling away, we looked at each other once more before he dropped his arms from my body and retrieved his bags. “Bye, love.” Despite the wink he shot in my direction, I couldn’t help detecting the slight break in his voice now.

“Bye, baby.” 

Before I knew it, the whole tour party of was gone and out of sight, just leaving us loved ones that had come to wave them goodbye. 

“God, I still can’t believe it, every time they go.” Louis’ mum piped up, receiving a hum of agreement from the rest of us. “So proud of them.”

“Yes, so, so proud.” Liam’s mum replied.

                                               ---------------------

The silence that greeted me as I unlocked the door was no where near as comforting as the silence Harry and I shared the night previously. This silence was almost eerie, confirming that, yes, I was alone once more. I sniffled back the tears that I had finally allowed myself to shed in the car on the way home, wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve. 

Slowly, I made my way up stairs, pushing open the door to our bedroom. It seemed far less chaotic than it had been for the last couple of weeks now that it was relieved of Harry’s many bags. I missed the mess now; it had told me that he was still here. Without turning on the light, I trudged to the bed, flinging myself onto the duvet, laying like a starfish on the covers as I let out an exaggerated huff slash groan. I glanced up in the direction a small rattling noise came from. On the pillow was an object I couldn’t quite make out in the dim light of the room; it certainly hadn’t been there earlier when I left the room to take Harry to the airport. Maybe this was what he was being so secretive about then. Pulling myself up, I flicked on the lamp beside the bed, discovering a CD with a sticky note attached.

‘For when you miss me and may forget how much I love you, here are all the songs that remind me of you (I’d know, seeing as I wrote them about you ;))

All my love, H xxxxx’

Another wave of tears hit me as I stared at his scrawl across the pink paper. How could I miss him so much already? Shooting up from the bed, I clambered out of the room and into the office where the computer was. I dropped into the chair, fiddling with the CD before slotting it into the machine. My heart seemed to skip with anticipation, my eyes darting all over the screen as I waited for it to load. Finally the songs came onto the screen; I was surprised to see how many of them there were, but I couldn’t help the grin on my face at the first four.

                                              ---------------------

Stole My Heart

Under the lights tonight, you turned around And you stole my heart, with just one look When I saw your face, I fell in love Took a minute girl, to steal my heart tonight With just one look, yeah Been waiting for a girl like you

Harry’s PoV

“So remind me how you know this guy again?” I questioned, leaning forward to push my head between the driver’s and front passenger’s seat. Louis huffed out a breath, shaking his head in annoyance. 

“He’s just a friend, mate. Does it really matter how I know him? It’s free alcohol. You should be bloody grateful seeing as you’re fresh out of the womb.” Niall snorted at Louis’ reply, earning a punch to the leg from me. 

“No need to be snarky.” I muttered, watching as the car pulled up to a large house that already looked like it was breaking at the seams with too many people. 

“He’s just butthurt that he and Caroline broke up. Mate, you were punching. It was gonna end at some point!” Zayn chimed in. The five of us hopped out the car, making our way up the steps and into the house. 

“Best behaviour, everyone, Simon said we could do some good networking here. There might be some people here we could need.” Liam said, the four of us completely ignoring him as we pushed through the crowd. Almost immediately we lost Niall - no doubt already in search of some alcoholic beverage. I decided not to join him, knowing full well that Zayn was right. I’d never tell him that though! I was definitely feeling a little low after the short rendezvous with Caroline Flack came to a somewhat abrupt end, and if I went straight to the drink like Niall, it was probably not going to be pretty. Instead, I followed Zayn who was talking to a group of three that he already seemed to know. 

After nearly half an hour though, the conversation was getting a little boring, and I was certainly struggling to keep up the façade of interest. I cleared my throat, gaining the attention of my peers. “Um, sorry, just gonna excuse myself, gonna get a drink.” I muttered.

“I’ll follow, be right back.” Zayn agreed, quickly following me. “Oh my god, did you hear them? How on earth can someone complain about not having enough rooms in a 7 room house for like twenty minutes?” He questioned, a laugh escaping his lips as we were out of earshot of the trio.

“I mean, if you fill half of them with your weed plantation it’s definitely going to affect the potential of the others, isn’t it?” I joked. “Now where the hell is kitchen?”

“I think,” Zayn spoke half the sentence, nodding his head in the direction in front of us. Together we continued pushing through the crowd of people that somehow seemed to have multiplied even in the short amount of time since our arrival. “Please don’t start growing a weed plantation in your house, Harold.” Zayn teased, finally entering the kitchen. “Ah the others are here.”

“Lads!” I heard Louis shout as we appeared. I didn’t answer Zayn’s joke because, leaning against the fridge was a girl. God Harry, that is not just ‘a girl’. I’d never seen anything that could even come close to her beauty. Just looking at her face I could feel my heart rate increase tenfold. Her brown hair was slightly waved, pushed back over one shoulder, accentuating her high cheekbones. She wasn’t wearing anything that was particularly noteworthy, but she made the simple outfit look like it was being modelled for the runway. Suddenly I noticed that I had yet to speak; that in fact, no one had said anything because Zayn had become a little shy with the presence of this stranger. I tried to adopt the most upbeat, unfazed tone.

“Hi!” As Liam introduced us I felt myself move forward towards her. I stuck out my hand. What the fuck am I doing? Who shakes hands at 17 - especially when they’ve just met the most beautiful woman in the entire universe?! Her hand slowly slid into mine; the softest, most delicate hands I’d ever felt - and that’s including my own mother who it seemed applied Cath Kidston hand moisturiser every waking moment. I thought quickly, moving down and placing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Y/N.” I smiled, making eye contact for the first time. 

Wow.

Never in my life have someone’s eyes felt like they were looking straight into my soul. Her cheeks flushed a pink shade, causing mine to match.

“And you, Harry.” She returned, maintaining the eye contact. 

Shit, Harry, this is deep. You can’t fall in love this quickly, can you?

When I got home that night, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. She clouded every thought, her touch still seeming to cause flames to run over my skin. As I sat on my bed, I grabbed the scrap of paper that was beside the bed from a piece of junk mail I’d opened this morning. Rummaging around I found a half blunt pencil, scribbling less than ten words onto the crumbled paper: 

When I saw your face, I fell in love.

                                              ---------------------

They Don’t Know About Us

They don’t know about the things we do They don’t know about the I love you’s But I bet you if they only knew They would just be jealous of us They don’t know about the up all nights They don’t know I've waited all my life Just to find a love that feels this right Baby they don’t know about, they don’t know about us

It must have been my continuous sniffles that prevented me from hearing that the front door had opened and closed, allowing Harry back into the apartment. My arms encircled my shins, pulling my legs up close to my chest as I sat on the little bench by the window in our bedroom. 

Things had just gotten too much as of late. With three new projects of mine coming out this year, with Harry working what felt like around the clock with the guys in the studio to produce another album, the press seemed to think it was their role to shit over everything. At every opportunity media outlets took it upon themselves to dig their way into our private lives we tried so hard to keep just that: private. 

“Baby, what are you doing up here? I thought you had an interview on the phone at 6? Why are you in the dark?” All of Harry’s questions felt like a tonne of bricks, causing more tears to well up in my eyes, and eventually cascade down my cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong? What are the tears for?” Not a second later he was by my side, kneeling down beside the bench, hands pulling on mine gently.

“I’ve had enough.” I cried, allowing him to pull my body around so he was kneeling now between my legs.

“Enough of what, my love?” His voice was soft, gentle, matching the feel of his caresses over my hands.

“I know we’re not s-s-supposed to r-read about ourselves in the n-news, but-” My hiccups became too much, completely cutting me off.

“Shhh, lovie, take a breath, yeah? Calm down, it’s okay. I’m here now.” The look in his eyes broke my heart; his pupils were swimming with concern and anxiety at finding me in this state.

“They were talking about how you’re really close with all of these women, like Cara and Caroline and all of that... And you know that picture that paps took of me like three weeks ago and I was crying because of something stupid on the phone outside of the set?” Harry nodded in confirmation, not wanting to cut me off in my flow. “Well according to them that was me crying about you cheating on me with all of these girls and how I felt trapped in this relationship and all that. They said I was calling someone to find another place to live for a bit or something. I know it sounds stupid, Harry, trust me, I know; because I know you’d never cheat on me, and I know they’re just you’re friends, but at the same time, this constant bombardment from the press is just so tiring! I just want to go outside and not be followed.” By this point I’d slowly sunk to the floor, tears continuing to flow freely from my eyes; but he was there to hold me. My head rested on his shoulder, nose pressed into his skin whilst his hands ran soothingly up and down my back.

“I know it’s hard, baby.” Harry spoke softly, his breath washing over the side of my face. “But it’s our life, yeah? We’ve just gotta live it the best way that we can and fuck them and what they think. They’ve got no idea what goes on behind closed doors; they have no idea how much we love each other; they’ve not got a clue what stupid stuff we talk about in the middle of the night when we can’t sleep. But trust me, I’ve waited too long for this to let them come between them. You’re the love of my life.” My heart fluttered at the end of his mini rant, a small smile playing on my lips.

“Really?” I croaked, lifting my head enough to catch his gaze. The previous expression that had evoked such sadness within me was now replaced by one that filled me with delight; he looked so in love, his eyes were shining in the darkness of the room, his lips only inches from mine.

“Yeah, of course. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, baby. What we have... just feels... right. You know?” I nodded in agreement, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips.

“I’m so in love with you, Harry.” I muttered.

“And I’m so in love with you.” He finished his declaration with my name.

The rest of the evening was quiet, peaceful; he sat beside me as I lay in the bath, his fingers intertwined with mine. It didn’t feel weird at all to be lying in front of him completely naked, he knew everything about me; every curve and bump of my body, every thought in my mind; everything.

“Wanna know something funny?” Harry asked gently. I nodded, swirling my free hand in the cooling water. “I was trying to write a song for you... well about you, all day and I was struggling so much,” He chuckled, looking down at our hands. “The boys were starting to take the piss, saying I wasn’t a real songwriter because I literally sat there for hours and didn’t write a single word. But in the fifteen minutes we’ve been here, I think I’ve got something.”

“Can I hear it?” I asked hopefully, sitting up a bit to lean my head on the side of the tub, mirroring the positioning of his. 

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat a little, shaking his head as if he were about to belt it out, but in what must have been the softest I’d ever heard his voice he smoothly sung: 

They don’t know I've waited all my life Just to find a love that feels this right Baby they don’t know about, they don’t know about us

                                              ---------------------

Strong

Think of how much love that's been wasted People always trying to escape it Move on to stop their heart breaking But there's nothing I'm running from You make me strong

“What are you even talking about, Harry?” My voice was hoarse, not from shouting (because that was something I refused to do), but from the hours and hours we’d been going at each other in this fight. “You’re taking this way out of context and trying to put words into my mouth!” Exasperation and frustration were clear in my words as my hands sat on my hips, sending Harry a slight glare as he stood on the other side of the living room.

“I don’t think I am, love,” The pet name in this context seemed a little sarcastic as his voice was definitely louder than usual, but not yet shouting. I think he’d exhausted himself an hour or so ago. “I think I’ve hit the nail bang on the head.”

“All I said was that I would appreciate more time with you; that’s all! What I didn’t say is that I don’t think you should be going out with your friends and reducing the amount of time you spend on tour.”

“That’s not something I can do, Y/N! I’m not in control of that! I can’t just go to management and say ‘oh yeah, my missus has got the hump, can we just cut out some of those dates?’“

“Harry, please!” Now that he was starting to get away with himself, clearly becoming more and more angry by the minute, I needed to clear the air. “That’s not something I’m asking from you.” I repeated, my voice cool, calm and collected. “I’m just asking you to consider spending some more of the time you have in England at home. You’ve been out nearly every night the last two weeks with various people-”

“I’ve always invited you to come too!”

“Harry please don’t interrupt me.” I begged.

“You’re being unreasonable.” It was clear to me now that he was definitely not prepared for an adult conversation, so I decided it was a good time for me to go upstairs and give him time to cool down. 

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, I’m gonna leave you.” Before I’d even made it four metres to the stairs, Harry’s hand had grabbed my arm; I was about to say something about man-handling me when I caught his expression. 

He looked broken, eyes filled with fear as his lips were parted. “Please don’t leave me.” His voice had absolutely no hint of anger anymore, just pure terror. 

“Leave you? No, Harry, I meant leave you alone to calm down. I was just... going upstairs.” I trailed off, eyeing him in confusion. His hand let go of me, both palms cradling his temples. 

“Fuck,” He breathed. 

“Why would you think I’d leave you?” I asked, stepping closer to him as he started pacing around the room. When I received no answer I called out his name.

“That’s just how it happened to my parents.” His voice was so quiet I almost missed it. My heart sunk.

“Hey,” I walked over to him, allowing my arms to go around him as I rested my head against his chest. I could hear his heart thumping against his ribcage frantically. “That’s not what’s going on here.” I explained. “It’s just a little fight, yeah? Nothing we can’t come through.” His arms were tightly holding me against him, his cheek against the top of my head. 

“I just thought you’d leave before something happened.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, just to leave before I broke your heart or something.” He muttered, sounding almost like he was too scared to even say it. 

“No, Harry. No.” I shook my head, tightening my arms around him. “I love you so much, too much almost.” I let out a little laugh. “I wouldn’t do that to either of us.”

“Would be a waste.” 

“Yes, a waste.” I agreed, looking up at him. “I’m not running away from this... from us. I never want to do that.” I reassured. 

Hours had past; apologies had been exchanged, promises made and kisses traded. I walked out of the kitchen, holding two glasses of wine to find him hunched over the journal I’d brought him for Christmas last year. 

“What you writing, superstar?” I teased, sinking into the sofa beside him. Without words, he tilted the pages for me to look at his writing:

But there's nothing I'm running from You make me strong

                                             ---------------------

Night Changes

We're only getting older, baby And I've been thinking about it lately Does it ever drive you crazy Just how fast the night changes? Everything that you've ever dreamed of Disappearing when you wake up But there's nothing to be afraid of Even when the night changes, it will never change me and you

The night had been absolutely beautiful. Harry had arranged to take me out to a fancy restaurant for our fourth anniversary, wining and dining me like he was trying to make a good first impression on an initial date. 

We walked the short distance from the restaurant back to our home, fingers laced together, the warmth in our bodies from the, perhaps too much, alcohol we’d had with dinner. 

“Thank you for tonight, lovie.” I smiled up at him, his features somewhat shadowed by the darkness, but subtly illuminated by the various street lamps. 

“It was my pleasure, baby. Thank you for the best four years of my entire life.” My skin flushed before I leaned up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

 “How is it that you can still make me blush and feel all gooey inside after all this time?” I wondered aloud. Harry shrugged, a smirk on his lips as he turned into our driveway. 

“Just a god really, aren’t I?” He shot me a wink, letting go of my hand to unlock the door. I laughed, shaking my head at him. 

“I can tell you one thing that’s never changed.” He raised his eyebrows at me in question, holding his arm up to keep the door open. 

“After you,” He muttered, watching as I ducked under his arm and into the house. 

“You’re still a cocky bastard.” 

“I can assure you, madam, my parents were married.” I spun around, looking at him before we both burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Stop it! You’re still 17 I swear!” I chortled, kicking my heels off by the door (a problem for me to sort tomorrow). 

“Yeah, but you love it though, don’t you, sweetheart?” His lips were centimetres from my ear, hand squeezing my bum playfully. 

“You’re such a flirt.” I countered, a wide grin on my face. 

“Just for you.” He winked again, taking off his jacket and hanging it up before mirroring my actions with his own shoes. 

“You know what else is for you?” I asked, attempting to adorn my best sultry tone. 

“Hmm?” He hummed in return, eyes flickering over my body. 

“All of this.” I muttered, gesturing to my body. “These,” I continued, my index finger playfully stroking down my breasts. Suddenly Harry was advancing on me; but I was faster. I let out a small shriek, spinning around and running up the stairs. 

“Hey! Come back, you pest!” Harry shouted after me. I could hear his footsteps chasing after me. “You’re gonna pay for that!”

“Thank you again.” I muttered, lips slowly trailing over his naked torso, the sheets pulled up under my armpits to cover my own bare skin. 

“I’d do anything for you.” He smiled, watching as my lips made their way from his pectorals, up his sternum, to his neck and eventually to his lips. 

“You’re the love of my life.” I replied, laying my head against his skin after our kiss. We lay there in silence for a few minutes, just soaking in each other before I heard him softly humming a tune I’d not heard before.

“What’s that?” I asked curiously, propping myself up on my elbow.

“Just thought of it.” He replied, turning his head to look at me. “I wrote some lyrics the other day, and I think they’d go with that.” I looked at him in a way to encourage him to go on. He playfully rolled his eyes at me before clearing his throat, gently singing the words to the tune he’d just been humming:

But there's nothing to be afraid of Even when the night changes, it will never change me and you

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #one direction #one direction imagines #fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Cameo in Sir Yaksalot

We’re having a mini-post about a cameo for this entry, and it’s the longest and most involved cameo yet. Plus, it’s animated by TMS Entertainment, which is always a delight to see.

Let’s take a look at “Sir Yaksalot”.

This has nothing to do with Pinky and the Brain, but I thought I’d point it out anyway since I find it delightful. Back in the late 1970s, TMS Entertainment animated the Lupin the 3rd “Red Jacket” anime series. In this episode the very first populated scene has an appearance by Jigen, who is one of the characters in that anime. I imagine this easter egg flew right over the heads of most of the western audience back in the 90s. It’s so charming that TMS made reference to their old work all these years later.

If you’ve never watched this Lupin the 3rd anime, have a few out-of-context bizarre and funny moments from the series to get a taste of it. It’s a delight.

Anyway, the basic run-down of this episode is that it takes place in Camelot, where Sir Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table live. All is pretty peaceful until a dragon starts attacking the place, burning down houses, and roasting people alive in the street.

…Like so.

But hey, that doesn’t have anything to do with our duo of mice, right?

Well, I hate to have to spoil the whole twist to the situation here, but it’s kind of important to do so for the analyzing purposes of this rewatch. So what’s the twist?

The dragon is actually a mecha assembled and piloted by Pinky and the Brain.

I’ve gotta say, this is actually quite bizarre for the duo to do. Brain’s plans are nearly always non-violent. And even if the odd plan involves violence or lasting harm, Pinky is quick to admonish Brain for doing so.

But now in this episode we have them terrorizing a kingdom, burning down houses, burning folks left and right… What’s going on here?!? I mean, I guess the part where they’re roasting people is moreso in a cartoony character-is-just-blackened-with-soot-and-they’re-fine kind of way, but still.

OH LORD, IT’S HEADED FOR US!

Anyway, the “dragon” defeats the knights of the kingdom and begins trying to break into the castle.

We’re going to skip a large part of the story here as it doesn’t involve the mice directly. All you need to know is that King Arthur asks Merlin to conjure up a brave and powerful knight to slay the dragon…and Merlin’s magic summons the Warner Siblings instead. Eventually, the Warners agree to do their best to get rid of Camelot’s dragon problem.

Meanwhile, the dragon has gone back to the kingdom at large to continue the rampage. I guess the castle door was too much of an obstacle for some reason?

Oh no, they’ve spotted something…

BOYS, NO! What the fuck?!?

I guess…I guess you could say that since this is actually a mecha that we’re looking at here, this old man would just be held hostage inside the belly area and our duo is just doing a really good acting job at the moment. However, this is still something that’s really, really out of Pinky and Brain’s usual modus operandi. Maybe Brain’s the one doing all the work at the moment and Pinky’s somewhere else in the mecha, distracted and unaware of the chaos happening? That’s the only way this could make any sort of sense to me, and having Brain working by himself without Pinky there do second-guess him and be his conscience usually results in Brain getting more carried away and having his morals slip a bit.

“Comedy! Dragon comedy! The best dragon comedians in all of Camelot!”

Oh thank goodness for your distraction, Yakko!

“Right here, free peasant with every drink! Oh yes, right this way, sir!”

“Hmm?”

The dragon goes right on in. Curiosity got the better of Brain, I suppose.

“And now, dragons and drag-ettes, the Camelot Comedy Cabaret presents the funniest dragon in all of Camelot: Henny Dragon!”

Oh my lord, Yakko, that dragon kigurumi is adorable!

“Ah-haha! Thank you, thank you! You’re too kind!”

“Hey, how about that lady in the lake? I mean, how long can she hold her breath?”

Aww, Wakko has one too.

“Hehehehehe…”

All right, this is totally not Brain at the reins anymore. He’s not one for these kinds of jokes. I’m guessing Pinky got curious about what was going on and Brain let him have control for a little while?

“Candy? Gum? Dynamite?”

And there’s Dot in her own costume! You look very cute, sweetie.

The dragon shakes his head in refusal, but—

“On the house, sugar.”

The dragon’s all blushy and he mumbles something unintelligible and waves in thanks. Yeah, that’s definitely not Brain controlling the mecha anymore.

“How ‘bout that King Arthur, huh? I’ll never forget the first time we met—“

“—but I’m tryin’.”

Oh boy, the dragon’s laughter is getting more intense and…umm. Hmm. I think we all know where this is going.

“I’m slayin’ ‘em.”

[snerk] Thanks, Yakko.

“Hey hey! What’s green and stands in the corner?”

“A naughty frog.”

We’ve got full-on belly laughs here, folks. It’s only a matter of time now.

“Naw, really, you’ve been a great audience. We’re outta here!”

Welp, here we go.

Yeah, sorry. This one’s all on you, buddy.

HOLY SHIT! That’s much more violent an explosion than I was expecting!

See you, space cowboy.

There’s the reveal. How did Brain (with some help from Pinky) assemble a mecha like this in medieval times? He’s just that good, I suppose.

This junked mecha is giving me Five Nights at Freddy’s vibes and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“Ah hehahe—‘naughty frog’! Narf! AhHAhaha!”

There’s our boys! Man, TMS makes them so adorable. Look at Pinky’s smile! He’s so precious. And Brain is, too, even though he’s so frustrated right now. ‘Lil grumpy-gus…

“Hysterical, Pinky.”

BONK!

“Zort!”

“…Mice?”

“But WHY?!?”

Honestly, King Arthur? Same.

“We were trying to destroy Camelot in yet another attempt to take over the world.”

W-were you, now? I… Listen, I know you’re not one to think about the details at all, Brain, but this is on a whole other level.

“Come, Pinky. Back to the drawing board.”

“’Stands in the corner’… ‘Naughty frog’… Ah HAHAHAHA!”

SMACK!

“They’re Pinky! They’re Pinky and the Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain--!~”

SPLAT!

That’s it for the cameo. It sure was…something. I honestly don’t know quite what to make of it. The whole Pinky and the Brain twist doesn’t really work unless you make some leaps of logic to try and puzzle out who was in charge of the mecha and when, and it’s an overly aggressive and violent plan…which is very rare for the two mice.

At least the animation was a joy to look at!

#Pinky and the Brain #PatB #Sir Yaksalot

[theelliottsmiths]

Could you please liveblog The Making of Rosenrot and Mein Herz Brennt.

Okay I'm gonna do Rosenrot here and then make a separate one for MHB, scheduled so nobody gets a massive wall of text I uh. Assume you pop around to check if I've answered stuff occasionally and this isn't a two ships passing in the night deal. I might schedule this one for like midday tomorrow to increase specifically your chance of seeing it as it's 00:27 BST here currently.

I have probably already done one but here's the thing, it's my favourite making of and it's been a while.

Right at the beginning chess piece Richard lurking in the sunrise smoking. Very cute, still despise the hat. Nodding roughly in time? Fun, though I'm curious as to what he was actually nodding for. To look cool? It didn't work

Oli suits the lurking in a habit thing

Paul looks so so sleepy and it's kind of adorable.

I lose it a little every time he says 'shave off my sideburns I don't know if monks have sideburns' as if he doesn't have earrings. I think he just likes it, it seems like it was the fashion to shave the sideburns and a little extra in the DDR alt scene?

Hnnnn the little noises he makes when he's getting the hood put on my HEART

On the hill just before they're shooting it sounds like Zoran is backwards somehow

Like usual, only some of the boys are allowed to look good. Schneider and Till? Beautiful. Flake and Richard. Very silly. Oli and Paul are fine.

Flakes little beanie. Tills little grin. Richard looking deeply uncomfortable. Suspicious, even. Oli masterfully blending into the background

Schneider is somehow actually more suspicious even than Richard. He has a very suspicious face in general when he's Present.

Nobody can resist fuzzy Till when he says But I wanna make friends too :( Even melted Zorans heart

I want. To rub his soft and fuzzy little head. It's so spherical.

There's something about them seating Till and Paul so they look the same size that I just really enjoy

Richard: shouldnt we have knives??

Zoran: no, you're monks! He does.

Richard: we don't kill him? :/

Paul: we burn him...

Richard, in an intrigued and distinctly positive voice: we burn him?

Flake is smiling at him it's so sweet I love to be reminded that they all love each other

I like the way Richard says 'like the inquisition?'. No real reason, just sounds nice.

Is 'in prinzip'(?) A common phrase in general or is it a Zoran thing? He says it a lot.

I'm only five minutes in this is going to be so long mobile tumblr doesn't let me add an under the cut I'm so sorry

When he talks to other Germans Paul's accent is so detectable. I adore it, it's like the bubble writing teenaged girls use on posters.

The chainsaw. I always forget the chainsaw. Paul being Paul, it's the most fitting choice. Chaos gremlin.

SCHNEIDER AND THE PUPPY

Richard looming over the children in the seesaw like the grim reaper waiting for one to fall off and crack their head on something hard

Olis sleeve wine is genuinely the funniest thing any of them have ever done. He has a penchant for doing robot movements and it's gotten to a point where I wonder if he's an android. A factory runaway because he was slightly faulty and about to be switched off. He ended up staying with Richard and Schneider because Richard understood and schneider didn't notice.

'dont bother asking me any questions, enough questions have already been asked' he says in his little beanie. Owns my heart. If the film thing is remotely true I want to know what Richard thinks, being so into films himself. He's smirking a tiny bit

God, he looks uncomfortable about the kiss.

Hey so anyway what is that guy doing behind him? Cleaning? Because he's using a paintbrush to do it and now I'm questioning whether most of the whipping was real...

I mean, later on you can physically see a welt forming in Paul's shoulder and they're all clearly in a bit of pain but that doesn't mean it's all real... Unless he's, like, painting on some ointment?

I adore this whole chunk of till practicing the murder scene, he's so... Disarming. Like hi yes I'm large and have a knife but you see, I'm actually small and silly look at my fuzzy head I'm v v approachable see my goofy pointy tooth smile? And my high voice and nice accent

Why is Zoran dressed as a monk too

You go here, and i—oop—make like this and then I get the knife and *stab sound*. I hit two, three times

Have you ever really payed attention to the way he makes his T sounds? It makes sense that it's different to the standard because teeth but this

Schneider looks so much like a plague doctor... Kinda into that.

I don't like that Zoran doesn't use Cătălinas name

Richards hair refuses to lie flat. The smoke floating up and then clicking into a straight line always catches my attention

Flake avoiding eye contact is, as the kids say, a major mood. Did he not understand Zoran or was he ignoring him til Oli got his attention? Was he already going deaf in one ear by that point? He looks like, and I mean this in the most loving way, a Muppet when he's looking directly at her. I think it was purposeful

Till giggling when Zoran tickles him with the rose. I do not understand why he says their relationship is ambiguous when they're... in bed together.

Hhhhhh god till looks so good in the flagellation lesson though. Soft sweet chumby boy. I like how visible his scar is.

Paul is always so into the violence and chaos isn't he? I like that he's singing the song but specifically it's the guitars, not the melody. And then theres Flake, the amateur masochist. The sudden camera eye contact always gets me.

A thing I really love about the whole self flagellation thing is that Paul is right there with till the entire time. He hurts himself almost as much as till does, he's there assisting when till is experimenting (sidenote...he does look good though huh), he's across the way where they can see each other in the circle (Richard is directly across which, I don't know, I feel like it's intentional). It seems like he's supporting him. Also that he's just a chaos gremlin and likes to be where the action is.

I've gone into so much detail about their whipping styles in the past

Schneider must be really relieved they didn't really use any of the clips during the whipping where he looks like a sock. He does not look mean he looks like a sock puppet with no hand I'm sorry but it's true

I do like the way Schneider and Paul talk about it though. They got a lot from the experience, it seems. I'd like to hear their thoughts on it now.

'Till, don't defend yourself!' ...the wriggling is cute

Flake and Richard having a little smile :) but Oli and Schneider, deadly serious.

Richard and Till... Should wrestle. Between this and Haifisch it's clear it'd be beneficial. Mein Teil does not count, it should be one on one.

I wish I knew what Till says as he gets up, I'm assuming hes joking about Richard beating him up?

Richard and paul are so careful beating him up. Paul especially is very careful to just softly jostle him. Also, the softest ear pinch

Oli: grinning, happy with their work

Paul: looking serious, not enjoying it at all

Richard: 😬, not remotely a fan, experiencing physical pain just seeing it

Oli heads off Paul's complaints perfectly, it's so practiced. He must have to do it regularly, Paul complains just for the fun of it.

-17° and he has Till topless on his back. Unnecessary. Its so cold the screen doesn't work.

I like to think they tried to drag him not-on his back

I just... I really Like Rosenrot and the making of.

#me rambling #rosenrot #rammstein #when soft fuzzy rosenrot till comes on screen i can feel my pupils dilating