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bullet-prooflove · 2 months

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LongDistance!Series - Part Three: Home - Manny x Reader

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @theesirenteller @wnbweasley @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @skyesthebomb @delightfulbelieverwerewolf @redpool @trublu2u @fleureeee @thiashazzywriting @lauraaan182 @hatersaremymotivators @fanfic-n-tabulous @ravennaortiz @just-a-throw-away @yousigned-upforthis @kabloswrld @keyweegirlie @@pansexualhailstorm @wabi-sabi1090

Part One: Melina - Manny x Reader - Manny's daughter wants to meet you.

Part Two: Club Business (feat: Hank Loza) - Manny finally sits down with Hank Loza to discuss his relationship with you.

Another postcard, another country, another city.

It’s Italy this time, Verona.

In the past few weeks, Manny’s received one from both Milan and Pisa.

He looks at his fridge, inundated with the evidence of your adventures and he wonders what he’ll do when he runs out of space, where he’ll put them all then. It occurs to him that he’s thinking in the long term, not months but years down the line. You out there exploring the world, him here managing his club. It shouldn’t work but somehow it does. He’s the stable presence in your life, the grounding force and you’re his wildness, the part of him that remembers how to live.

“Put them in a scrapbook.” His daughter Melina suggests as she perches at the kitchen table, carefully cutting out a picture of an elephant from a magazine he’d picked up.

“That’s not a bad idea.” You say from the phone propped up against the saltshaker on the table. “You’re going to have to help him choose one though because his taste is a little…”

Manny knows you’re pulling a face, it’s in the way Melina laughs.

The three of you have been video chatting regularly since the initial introduction over a month ago. You’ve become as integral to their routine as breathing. Manny looks up from chopping peppers before handing off a slice to Melina, she crunches it between her teeth.

“Orange is his favourite colour.” Melina says with a sigh, picking up one of her colouring pens to show you. “He thinks it goes with everything.”

“It does.” Manny argues, rolling his eyes before he washes his hands in the sink. “It’s bright, it’s uplifting, who doesn’t want that in a colour? It’s you two that are wrong, who likes the colour blue, it’s dour, depressing.”

“Relaxing, soothing.” You correct him, shaking your head. “What will we do with him Melina?”

“Alright, alright.” Manny says, picking up a hand towel and drying his hands as he steps around the breakfast island. “If you two are done judging my colour choices, we still need to get Melina’s homework done. The two of you were talking about India and the elephant sanctuary.”

“That’s right.” You agree, straightening your shoulders. “Ok kid, what other questions do you have?”

He cooks dinner while the two of you talk. They’re having pasta tonight because Melina’s decided she wants a taste of the Mediterranean, thanks to a conversation the two of you had yesterday about how much you love Italian food. He’d tried to bargain it down to pizza, but she’d given him that look and reminded him he’d already promised that as their Saturday treat so pasta it is.

“At least she’s trying new things.” Sam had shrugged when he’d told her. “She could be eating chicken nuggets all the time like that kid Jeremy at school.”

Small blessings, he thinks as he watches the water simmer. He turns it down a little before he approaches Melina’s chair, his hands come to rest on her shoulders lightly before he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“Mi Nina.” He murmurs. “Dinner’s almost ready. Go wash up, ok?”

Melina complies slipping out of her seat and heading to the bathroom. Manny picks up the phone, a smile tipping up at the edges of his mouth.

“Thank you for that, I know it’s late there.”

There’s eight hours time difference between Italy and Yuma. It’s six o’clock here and almost two am your time. You’d been photographing the afterparty at the Parma Tattoo Nerd Fest and just gotten back to your room when he’d called.

“It’s cool.” You tell him, running a hand through your hair. “You know it takes me a while to wind down.”

He can tell you’re tired, he’s been noticing it a lot recently. You’ve been working yourself into the ground, chasing the work where you can get it. It’s the nature of a freelance career. You take the jobs when they come in. Your skills are in high demand, you’re well known in the Expo circles for the quality of your work and your reliability. Some creatives were flakes but you, you’re dedicated.

“So, I’m going to take some time off one I’ve finished up in Fiuggi.” You tell him, toying with the silver stacker rings on your fingers. “The last couple of months have been intense and I need to take a break.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” He tells you, leaning on the breakfast bar as he holds the phone between his hands. “You need to take some time for yourself Mami, rest and relax. Working that hard, it’s not good for you.”

“I’m going to book a flight back to the States, I need to make a stop in Joshua Tree, drop some of my stuff at my storage locker…”

“Storage locker.” He repeats because he fully expected you to say apartment.

Something clicks into place then, something he hasn’t considered until this very moment, and it breaks his fucking heart. When he thinks back over all the conversations you’ve had he realises you have never once mentioned an apartment, or a house or anything resembling a home. The storage locker is literally the first place of permeance you’ve brought up. Up until now it’s been hotel rooms and Airbnbs.

“Mami…” He says quietly, lowering his voice so that Melina doesn’t overhear. “Where is home for you?”

“I…” You trial off, your eyebrows furrowing as you contemplate the question. You glance back up at the camera on your phone and the look in your eyes it kills him. “I’ve never really thought about it until now… I guess I don’t have one.”

It’s the nature of the foster system he thinks, moving from place to place, never settling long enough for a home of your own. You’ve emulated the pattern over and over again without even realising it. He sees the moment it dawns on you, something shatters deep inside and it resonates over the six thousand miles that separates you. He wishes that he was there right now, that he could wrap his arms around you and hold you close, that he could take away the anguish he sees in your features, but he can’t. Instead, he places his hand over his heart as he speaks his truth.

“It’s with me Sara.” He tells you. “Your home, it’s with me.”

***

You’ve been travelling for over eighteen hours by the time you make it to Phoenix. It’s ten o’clock at night and you are bone achingly tired, you’d tried to catch a couple of hours on the plane, but the truth is you were too excited to see Manny. You’d called him during the two-hour layover in Atlanta to let him know you were back in the country and that there were no delays with your connecting flight.

“I can’t wait to see you.” He’d told you, the tone of his voice sending a rush of heat surging through your body.

“Me too.” You say, a smile gracing your lips. “It feels like it’s been a lifetime.”

He still looks as good as the day the two of you first met, black jeans that hug his lower body just right, that khaki green shirt buttoned all the way to the top. When his eyes meet yours, a small smile graces his handsome features and something inside you just lights up. You’re in his arms in an instant, his aftershave filling your nose as he holds you close. He smells like leather, lavender and patchouli, scents that make you think of home.

“It’s good to have you back.” He whispers into your hair, and you nod because right now there’s all this emotion rising up in your chest and you just can’t speak.

It’s been a journey over the past few days, facing up to the reality of your patterns, the ones that have been ingrained since childhood. You realised it’s time to change, time to put something permanent in place and you want that to be with Manny.

He draws away, his palms clasping your face. His thumbs chase away the tears that leak down your cheeks, his forehead coming to rest upon yours.

“Hey, hey.” He soothes, his lips brushing over yours. “You’re home now.”

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nbmsports · 11 months

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Yiddish Is Alive and Well in Melbourne, Australia

“Mir kumen on, mir kumen on! Un fest un zikher undzer trot!”Late on a recent Friday night, dozens of voices joined in this Yiddish anthem — “We are coming, we are coming! And our step is firm and true!” — and soared from a conference center among gum trees and kookaburras outside Melbourne, Australia.Today, Yiddish is most commonly used in ultra-Orthodox communities in places like Brooklyn or Jerusalem. But in Melbourne, snatches of it can be heard on certain streets, around multigenerational dinner tables, on stages and in classrooms.And one weekend a year, Australian speakers of Yiddish come together at Sof-Vokh Oystralye, or Weekend Australia, for 48 hours of total immersion in the language of a thousand years of Jewish life and culture that, before the Holocaust, was spoken by 13 million people, mostly in Eastern Europe.For some of the singers at this year’s retreat, in late May, Yiddish is the hard-fought language of everyday life. For others, it evokes a long-ago childhood in an immigrant neighborhood in Melbourne. For many of the tiniest participants, including some who had already been dispatched to bed, it is the language of the classroom, sitting easily alongside Hebrew and English at the world’s only secular primary school where it is a compulsory daily subject.At Sof-Vokh, attendees in beanies and scarves emblazoned with the insignia of Australian football teams played Dungeons and Dragons, basketball and chess; smeared creamy cheese into blintzes in a stainless steel-wrapped catering kitchen; and played games in which they impersonated animals and translated gibberish into poetry — all in Yiddish.From a makeshift Twister game set up in the hotel’s foyer, a tumbling child let out a loud “Oy vey!”Beyond the lighting of candles and blessings in Yiddish over bread and wine on Friday night, there were few signs of organized religion. Yet the preservation of the language has, for the founders of the event and others in the Jewish community in Melbourne, become an almost holy crusade.In 1995, when Melbourne’s last Yiddish newspaper closed, Freydi Mrocki, a musician and a teacher, fell to the floor of her dining room, weeping, she said. “That’s when I decided Yiddish would die over my dead body,” Ms. Mrocki, 63, said. “I gave my life over to Yiddish, in the same way that some people give their life to God.”Along with Dr. Doodie Ringelblum, she co-founded Sof-Vokh in 2004.“Yiddish is our contribution to world culture,” said Dr. Ringelblum, 60, “and Judaism is our contribution to the richness of human life.”Dr. Ringelblum and his wife raised their three children to speak Yiddish as a first language. But with few other Yiddish-speaking families in Melbourne, and scant secular resources — as well as the occasional recalcitrance of his teenage children — passing it on has been “horrifically difficult,” he said. “The two words that are spoken most in our family are ‘redt Yiddish’ — ‘speak Yiddish.’”Many of Melbourne’s present-day Yiddish speakers, including Ms. Mrocki and Dr. Ringelblum, descend from a wave of Jewish refugees who settled in the city between 1938 and 1960, giving Australia the largest proportion of Holocaust survivors of any country beside Israel.Hania Joskowicz, who will turn 100 in February, moved to Australia in 1951 with her husband and daughter.She spent six years of the war in a labor camp, unaware that the Nazis had murdered her parents and two of her three siblings. It had been a “nothing life,” she said in a recent interview at her Melbourne home. “In every minute, you’re dead. Every second.”But in Melbourne, she found ready community in the neighborhood of Carlton, living among fellow Holocaust survivors and other new migrants, and picking up Greek and Italian alongside English.“It really was shtetl Carlton, back then,” said Arnold Zable, 76, a writer who captured the community and area in his book “Scraps of Heaven.”At the Kadimah, a Jewish cultural center and library in Melbourne, Ms. Joskowicz and her husband attended Yiddish theater, dances and other events. She recalled the shock of suddenly encountering a close friend from before the war there. “I fell down, for happiness,” she said.As Melbourne’s last generation of prewar Yiddish speakers fades out, the language comes to life for most present-day speakers in settings like Sof-Vokh or in classes, as well as through Melbourne’s thriving Yiddish music scene.This has been the case around the world, said Rivke Margolis, a professor of Jewish studies at Monash University in Melbourne. “There’s no indication, at all, that Yiddish is ‘dying,’” she said.At Sof-Vokh, she guided a rapt crowd through a monologue by the writer Aaron Zeitlin, in which a Yiddish-speaking migrant to the United States muses on his assimilated family before noting, stricken, that no one will say Kaddish, the Jewish mourners’ prayer, for him when he dies.Over time, Melbourne’s Jewish population moved slowly from Carlton to the city’s present-day “bagel belt” south of the river, where the Kadimah eventually relocated. At 111, the organization still puts on plays in Yiddish and teaches the language to people of all ages.Around the corner is Sholem Aleichem College, a secular Jewish primary school named for the acclaimed Yiddish writer, where about 300 students learn in English, Hebrew and Yiddish.At a lunch at Sof-Vokh, Helen Greenberg, the school’s principal of 17 years, laughed as she chatted with former students, and greeted those still in her charge.“Their intonation is sensational,” she said, of her students’ proficiency in Yiddish. She added, “They don’t just see it as a language, they see it as part of their identity.”At the school recently, in a bright, modern classroom, children of 3 or 4 fidgeted through a Yiddish-language acknowledgment of the Aboriginal inhabitants of the land, before joining together to rattle off the days of the week, starting with “montik.”The school is now independent, and Israeli flags hang on its walls. But it has its roots in the Jewish Labour Bund, a 19th-century Eastern European socialist workers’ union that espoused Marxist and anti-Zionist values and today survives only in Melbourne, along with its youth group, SKIF.The Bund’s political philosophy, though still socialist and unaffiliated with Zionism, has shifted over time toward a focus on “Yiddishkeit,” a catchall term for Jewish culture that extends to the promotion of Yiddish language, and “Doikayt” — supporting Jewish communities wherever they are.During the pandemic, many of Melbourne’s Yiddish institutions saw an uptick of enthusiasm in online activities that has since filtered into the physical world. In March 2022, the Kadimah presented a modern Yiddish-language adaptation of “Yentl,” by Isaac Bashevis Singer, which sold out its two-week run at one of the city’s top theaters, and won multiple Melbourne theatrical prizes.Late on Saturday afternoon at Sof-Vokh, a small group led by Joshua Reuben, 27, and Tomi Kalinski, 71, pored over two different Yiddish translations of the “Uluru Statement from the Heart,” a 2017 petition for reparations by Aboriginal leaders that has led to a forthcoming referendum on constitutional reform.A clamor from the dining room grew louder as they reached the end of the passage: “We invite you to walk with us,” Mr. Reuben read, in Yiddish, “in a movement of the Australian people, for a better future.” Source link Read the full article

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wilfywarfy · 2 years

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JUST FOUND OUT THAT THERE'S AN ITALIAN FOOD FEST IN MY CITY??? AND I DIDNT KNOW ABOUT IT UNTIL TODAY???

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theharpermovieblog · 7 months

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#HARPERSMOVIECOLLECTION

2023

www.tumblr.com/theharpermovieblog

🎃HALLOWEEN LIST 2023🎃

I re-watched City Of The Living Dead/AKA: The Gates Of Hell (1980)

More Italian Horror for the list because it's just so chock full of gorey goodness.

A suicidal priest opens the gates of hell and several people must race to close them.

Director Lucio Fulci has made some honest to God great movies. Most recently I watched his film, Don't Torture A Duckling, and it was a smart and interesting Giallo thriller, which no doubt inspired future filmmakers. But, it's Fulci's dips into pure horror, his gore-fests, which are what he's best known for. Films dealing in Mysticism, zombies and some of the grossest and goopiest violence of the 1980's.

City Of The Living Dead is the first part of Fulci's Gates Of Hell Trilogy. Followed by The Beyond and The House By The Cemetery. While The Beyond is the best of the three in my opinion, this film is a deeply memorable one. When you see a woman endlessly vomit her entrails it tends to stay with you.

Fulci's films are heavy handed. The spooky stuff, the gore, it's all "full frontal" on screen and met with zoom-ins and zoom-outs and dramatic camera work. His style is a staple of Italian Horror now, and along with Argento's brightly colored films and poor dubbing, are what one thinks of when they think of Italian horror films. A group of foreign made films which act almost as an umbrella genre, mainly incorporating mystical horror, zombie horror and Giallo horror.

Granted, this movie doesn't have the best story or the deepest characters. Nor is it Fulci's best work. But, it's great if you're looking for pure atmosphere and gore. It's one of those horror movies that just works based on sheer ridiculousness. Gut puking, brain squishing, worm smearing ridiculousness, all centered around Dunwich Massachusetts and an ancient evil brought about by a demonic priest.

It's New England setting and it's premise offer up a little lovecraftian feel, which is always a good thing in my opinion.

And, it's paced rather quick, with the deaths and effects coming often.

Great one to add to any Halloween list.

#city of the living dead

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norwegianfriedokra · 9 months

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Italian Schlager a go-go, with a smattering of historical Leipzig

As the beginning's of Fall starts to tease the northern hemisphere, here I am pondering once again. I haven't written a blog entry in a while, and there have been many a'happenings, thus here I am.

This summer was busy and yet also filled with relaxation and adventure. Sven and I were on the go again, this time in east Germany, particularly Leipzig and Berlin. After that we headed south into the Czech Republic. However the whole thing started with a BANG, at the Zelt Musik Fest in Freiburg in Southern Germany.

At the Festival we had tickets to one of Sven's favorite bands, "Roy Bianco and the Abbrunzati Boys". It had been his birthday present, and he had to wait half a year to attend. It was a blast. I already like the band too (they call it Italian Schlager), but the concert experience was electrifying. The crowd was like corn on a hot pan, and the band's presence delivered a unique experience. After the concert we visited with Sven's sister a bit, enjoyed some delicious fried fish, then headed out to Leipzig, our first stop.

Leipzig is historically a very important city in Germany. Located in southeastern Germany, it has been the home of many protests over the years, often prior to wars with the most recent prominent protest happening right before the wall fell. In October of 1989 on a Monday morning over 120,000 east German citizens walked the streets in protest of the east German government. Interesting side note, many of these protests were somewhat brought about after the Tiananmen Square incident that had happened earlier that year, in June of 1989.

Leipzig is also famous for the historic Battle of Leipzig, where Napoleon was defeated in October of 1813. We briefly visited the monument which exists there…it's HUGE.

In Leipzig we visited a friend of mine called Felix, he is a "Meister Tischler" (Master Journeyman Cabinet Maker/Carpenter). He happened to make my wonderful desk, and currently works privately as a carpenter and cabinetmaker. He, as a Meister Tischler, had to learn historical techniques as well, so that he can repair old furniture, windows and doors in ways appropriate to the era in which they were created. You can view his projects here Tischler Meister Felix Kessler

He also happens to have chickens and lives in a small village outside of Leipzig, on what is called a 4-walled farm (Vierseithof).

Image courtesy of ernst-stiftung.

This type of building unit is common throughout Germany, Denmark, Austria, as well as some areas of Poland and the Czech Republic. There are four long walled units, typically with two stories. One side would be for servants the the main owners of the land, and served as housing. The remaining three sides consisted of livestock stalls and storage for food for both the people living there and the animals they cared for. Often the animals would spend time in the courtyard of the buildings, and the courtyard was otherwise used as a slightly sheltered workspace.

Okay, enough about history. Visiting with Felix was great. We had some delicious Spanish Tapas at a local soccer club, and otherwise wandered the city. Afterwards we headed out to Berlin!

#travel #germany #enoughabouthistorygettothegoodstuff

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jesse-eisenberg-interview · 13 years

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Talking comedy and bank heists with Jesse Eisenberg and Nick Swardson

Actor Jesse Eisenberg and comedian Nick Swardson are an unlikely pair. Eisenberg is an Oscar-nominated actor for “The Social Network.” Swardson has a devil-may-care slacker reputation and a stand-up routine called, “Seriously, Who Farted?” Eisenberg is currently in Italy shooting Woody Allen’s next movie, “The Bop Decameron.” This fall, Eisenberg will make his playwrighting debut with the dark comedy “Asuncion” that is due to open Oct. 27 off-Broadway at the Cherry Lane Theatre.

Swardson is a veteran of Adam Sandler pictures and has been working with the comedian for eight years. Together they wrote Swardson’s next movie, “Bucky Larson: Born to Be a Star,” due out Sept. 9. Swardson also can be seen in the TV series’ “Reno 911!” and “Pretend Time.”

On this day, they are together to promote their latest film, “30 Minutes or Less,” yet another entry into this summer’s R-rated raunch fests. In it, two wannabe criminals (Swardson and Danny McBride) kidnap a pizza delivery guy (Eisenberg), strap a bomb to his chest and force him to rob a bank. Aziz Ansari, of TV’s “Parks and Recreation,” co-stars. Ruben Fleischer, who also directed Eisenberg in the vastly superior “Zombieland,” is behind the camera.

Eisenberg enters the interview room at Boston’s Liberty Hotel first. Reserved and polite, he introduces himself with a handshake. Swardson enters with commotion and a burp. He has to wash his hands. Now, they are wet. He can’t find a napkin. Finally, he finds one. After Eisenberg asks about Mayor Tom Menino and comments on the city’s Irish and Italian cultures, Swardson rolls up the wet napkin and throws it at Eisenberg.

Once the manic Swardson settles in, we spend the next 20 minutes talking about their movie and laughing a lot. Swardson only drops four F-bombs. Eisenberg, none. At times, they make my job easier, taking over to ask each other questions.

Jesse, your costars – Nick, Aziz and Danny – are all comedians. Did you feel any pressure to be funny? And, Nick, did you feel any pressure working with the guy who should have won the best-actor Oscar?

EISENBERG: Oh that’s very nice. All I had to do was focus on my job, which was kind of a dramatic role in a way, even though the movie is framed as a comedy. You know, my role is a guy who has a bomb strapped to him and is forced to rob a bank. And the more serious I take my tragic situation the funnier it is. And a lot of the comedy comes from these two regular, lazy guys – an elementary school teacher and a pizza delivery guy – forced to rob a bank and the anxiety and earnestness in which they treat their plight. So I wasn’t concerned with trying to be funny because I thought it would oftentimes compromise the seriousness of my character’s situation.

SWARDSON: I didn’t have a lot of scenes with Jesse. So I didn’t have a lot of time to be intimidated by Jess and his acting magic. I was really focused on trying to ground the character and play it as real as I possibly could. I’m known for mainly playing such crazy characters that are really flamboyant and insane. I was really excited for this role, to ground it as much as I could and not have to worry about always having to come up with a joke.

Both actors revealed that a good chunk of the dialogue was improvised, including a scene in which Eisenberg’s character reacts to a Facebook conversation by saying “I don’t do that sh** anymore, I’m off the grid.”

EISENBERG: That was me improvising, but not because of the movie I was in about Facebook; more just because that’s just what I thought my character would think of himself. . . . He is a guy who rejects the world. He is kind of empowered by this sense of loneliness and righteousness. But it was not a joke because of the movie. Had I known it would be taken that way I don’t think I would have said it because you don’t want to take people out of the movie; you want them to experience the character.

SWARDSON (to Jesse): Facebook is so commonplace and you can make a reference like that and it doesn’t feel specific to the movie. It’s like everyone is part of it. It’s not like you making a tongue-in-cheek joke. It is something that that character would say.

EISENBERG: It’s like referencing Linkedin.

SWARDSON: Or the laser disc.

Jesse, were you glad when the awards season was over and Nick, what did you do for the Oscars?

SWARDSON: I just coached Jesse. I did his hair and his makeup and I just got him ready and picked out all his dresses.

EISENBERG: He sewed my suits together.

SWARDSON: Yeah, I made his suit. All of it. I was relieved, very relieved when it was over.

EISENBERG (to Swardson): Did you watch the Academy Awards?

SWARDSON: I watched them wasted at Danny’s house.

EISENBERG: No, do you watch them in general?

SWARDSON: Yeah, always. I love movies. I’m a huge movie fan. I love going to movies. I see everything.

EISENBERG: Do you feel like the awards tend to discriminate against comedic movies?

SWARDSON: Yeah, but I mean comedy is so, so subjective. You can’t really do awards for comedy. I don’t believe in awards, anyway. But I think it would be tough to give awards out for comedy. I would have said ‘Step Brothers’ was the best movie two years ago. But so many critics are like ‘this movie is stupid,’ and it has a 40 percent rating on RottenTomatoes, but to me that’s one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen. So it’s hard to have an awards show for something like that.

EISENBERG: Interesting.

Jesse, since you were nominated, you’re now a voting member of the Academy. That’s pretty cool. And, so, Nick, I guess you have to keep on his good side just in case a best fart joke ever becomes a category.

SWARDSON: Vote for me for this movie, Jesse. Fu**!

EISENBERG: You’re already throwing a tantrum.

SWARDSON: I better win best fart joke in standup. That’ll bum me out if I didn’t.

No pun intended.

SWARDSON: Ha, ha. I get it. The stand-up title [“Seriously, Who Farted?] is supposed to be an inside joke, because I just wanted to have people who seriously would talk about the special and the album to have to say “Seriously, Who Farted?” seriously. You know, I always get flak for being like the “oh Swardson is such a stupid comic and a frat-boy moron.” But it’s like I was in on the joke when I thought of that title. For that reason to kind of make fun of these critics.

So it’s intellectual?

SWARDSON: It’s not intellectual, but there is a method to the madness. It’s not just like ‘Hey, farting is hilarious.’ (pauses, then adds) But farting is hilarious.

Nick, you and Danny are best friends in the movie. Jesse and Aziz are also tight. Did you guys know each other before you started filming?

SWARDSON: I didn’t know Danny at all and I had to go be his best friend. Reuben gave us a few days to hang out and luckily we are both great people. We got along really well and we became very close and I consider Danny one of my good friends.

EISENBERG: Often times it has been my experience that it can be better not to know the person at all. Sometimes when you act with your friends, which you do a lot, I sometimes find I’m distracted by knowing the person so well and them thinking of me in another way. Whereas I met Aziz at the audition for this movie and we were immediately kind of interacting in the way our characters would interact, and I think in some ways maybe that’s a little better.

SWARDSON: It is true. I’m usually in the comfort zone of Sandler and stuff, where I do act with him a lot. So it was refreshing to have a new best friend, or have some one to play off of and try to connect with.

Clearly, you guys are having a good time on screen. Were there any scenes that had to have multiple takes because you were cracking up?

EISENBERG – There was this one thing that kept getting me. At the end of the movie I ask Nick to put his flame thrower down and he sheepishly says that he can’t put it down because it’s attached to his backpack. And he just made that line up and there was something about that moment and Nick and my attempt at being serious because I’m supposed to have taken control of the situation.

SWARDSON – And that’s Jesse being intense and I kind of revert back to being an 8-year-old. It took a while to get through that take. I kept laughing. He kept laughing. But there was a lot of times. The scene where me and Danny are cleaning the pool. That took us a while. I kept laughing and laughing. Danny says, I want to start a cash business with a lot of girls. I said “Chinese food restaurant,” he says no. I said abortion clinic? He says, “no yucky.” And he kept saying “yucky” and it made me laugh so much because that’s the weirdest way to react to an abortion clinic. And I fuc**** could not for the life of me keep it together. I kept apologizing. I think on the takes they used you can see the corner of my mouth.

EISENBERG: I am so sensitive to stuff like that. If I see me in a movie I’m so paranoid that you can maybe see right at the end of the edit, like they used right up until the exact moment where you start laughing. I get so paranoid. I can tell that maybe I am laughing one frame later and I get so embarrassed.

The film is about a bank robbery, do either of you think you could pull off a heist?

EISENBERG: The thing I really loved about the plot of the movie is the characters deal with that in a really realistic way. They first look up bomb disarming techniques on the Internet. When they can’t find anything good, they decide they have to rob the bank. And they get toy guns and spray paint them. They get energy drinks to maintain their stamina. They do all the things one would have to do in the situation. So the comedy comes from those realistic reactions.

SWARDSON: I think I could rob a blood bank. Or I could rob Tyra Banks or Elizabeth Banks. I think I could have robbed a bank a 100 years ago, the 1800s, maybe. I think now it’s a little daunting with the security cameras, codes and the forensics.

EISENBERG: You also have today’s knowledge of interpersonal social psychology, so you could manipulate people more easily.

SWARDSON: Yeah, I could just Jedi everyone. Just use my own version of the force to seduce and make a lot of love.

You were both in animated films ...

EISENBERG: What did you do?

SWARDSON: I did ‘Bolt,’ Jesse. It was kind of a fuc***** big deal. (Burps) Jesse should fuc**** watch it and study his goddamn costars and learn about people. (Pause) What did you do?

EISENBERG: (Laughing so much he almost falls out the chair he’s leaning back on). “Rio.” I was Blu in “Rio.”

SWARDSON: Why would I see a movie that I lived?

SOURCE

#jesse eisenberg #30 minutes or less #2011

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badkittyknits · 2 years

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🌻🌿🌻🌿🌻🌿🌻🌿🌻🌿🌻🌿🌻🌿🌻🌿 ...up late making Zombie Kitty til I ran out of yarn...EEEK!...up early for Sunflower production...check out my handmade Italian Cheshire cat mug...you can get yours at AlleyCrafts ...find Zombie Kitty and these sunflowers coasters: Saturday October 1st Forty-Fort Otherworldly: 2nd Annual Paranormal Craft & Oddities Fair October 6th-9th Bloomsburg Fairgrounds 40th Annual Covered Bridge & Arts Festival (OFFICIAL) October 16th Forty-Fort Autumn Days Craft Fest October 29th Dickson City Ultimate Trunk or Treat and Halloween Marketplace #badkittyknits #slowfashion #bohovibes #boho #bohocraftysouls #bohostyle #bohochic #bohohippie #sunflowers #sunflower #sunflowerlove #sunflowerlovers #bohohippiechic #hippie #hippiestyle #hippievibes #bohovibes #coasters #crochetsunflowers #sunflowercoaster #makersgonnamake #bohodecor #festivalseason #festivalfashion #festivalvibes #cheshirecat #handcraftedpottery (at Forty Fort, Pennsylvania) https://www.instagram.com/p/CjIcyAlOnqN/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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suteiina · 3 years

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those are real aprons…

#jojo’s bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba fanart #vento aureo #vento aureo fanart #guido mista #narancia ghirga #naramis #art #drawing #i was at my city’s italian fest #and came across these.. abominations

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sciogli-lingua · 2 years

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Famous Italian tongue twisters

Loyal to my username, I’m here today to teach you some Italian scioglilingua! Our word for tongue twister is a slightly more optimistic one when compared to its English counterpart, literally meaning tongue loosener or tongue untier.

Before I begin, a disclaimer: of course these were all passed along by word of mouth from one person to another for generations, so there will be variations. These are simply the ones I remember from my childhood, the way I remember them. Enjoy!

Apelle, figlio di Apollo, fece una palla di pelle di pollo, e tutti i pesci vennero a galla per vedere la palla di pelle di pollo fatta da Apelle, figlio di Apollo. -- Apelles, son of Apollo, made a ball out of chicken skin, and all the fish came to the surface to see the ball made out of chicken skin by Apelles, son of Apollo.

Apelles was, in fact, not the son of Apollo (at least not to my knowledge), but both a renowned Greek painter from the 4th century b.C. and a Gnostic thinker answered to the name.

Sul tagliere gli agli taglia, non tagliare la tovaglia! La tovaglia non è aglio: se la tagli, fai uno sbaglio. -- Cut the garlic on the cutting board -- don’t you cut the tablecloth! The tablecloth isn’t garlic, if you cut it, you’ll make a mistake.

This tongue twister is meant to practice the infamous /ʎʎ/ (and single /ʎ/) sound. While it’s notoriously tricky for foreigners to get right, it’s no walk in the park for Italians either -- which is why you’re likely to often hear approximations of it in everyday speech, ranging from a single /ʎ/ in all cases or sometimes even something closer to an /l/ in the North to /j/ or /jj/ in the Central and Southern regions.

Trentatré trentini entrarono a (or in) Trento, tutti e trentatré trotterellando. -- Thirty-three Trentines (= people from the city of Trento) entered Trento, all thrity-three of them trotting.

Trento is a city in the North of Italy; disappointingly enough, its denizens mostly don’t go trotting around.

Li vuoi quei kiwi? -- Do you want those kiwis?

A longer version adds “E se non vuoi quei kiwi, che kiwi vuoi?” (”And if you don’t want those kiwis, which kiwis do you want?”

Tigre contro tigre OR Tre tigri contro tre tigri -- Tiger against tiger OR Three tigers against three tigers.

Basic and pro version.

Se l'Arcivescovo di Costantinopoli si disarcivescoviscostantinopolizzasse, vi disarcivescoviscostantinopolizzereste voi? -- If the Archbishop of Constantinople renounced his position of Archbishop of Constantinople, would you renounce to your position of Archbishops of Constantinople as well?

This can go on for a while: some longer versions manage to add a couple more “de-archbishopizations”.

Sopra la panca la capra campa, sotto la panca la capra crepa. -- On the bench the goat lives, under the bench the goat croaks.

“Croaks” as in “dies”, only more colloquial.

Se oggi seren non è, doman seren sarà; se non sarà seren, si rasserenerà. -- If today the sky isn’t clear, it will be clear tomorrow; if it isn’t clear, it will get clearer later.

This tongue twister is an apocope fest, which gives it an old-timey feeling. Notice that some final vowels are dropped (seren = sereno, doman = domani): such a proceeding, a.k.a. apocope, was frequently used in poetry and in song, because it effectively shortens the word of a syllable (sereno has three syllables, seren has two), which was useful for rhythmic purposes.

Dietro il palazzo c'è un povero cane pazzo; date un pezzo di pane a quel povero pazzo cane. -- Behind the building there’s a poor, mad doog; give a loaf of bread to that poor, mad dog.

Cut to middle schoolers giggling: this tongue twister, as a matter of fact, is just an elaborate trap to get a person to swear.

Una rara rana nera sulla rena errò una sera, una rara rana bianca sulla rena errò un po' stanca. -- A rare black frog wandered on the sand one evening, a rare white frog wandered, a little tired, on the sand.

Used to torture everybody with an “r moscia” (”weak R”, the common Italian name for rhotacism, or the inability to trill your Rs -- it’s a thing among Italians as well!).

Orrore, orrore! Ho visto un ramarro marrone cadere nel burrone! (OR: Ho visto un ramarro verde su un muro marrone!) -- The horror! I saw a brown lizard fall down the ravine! (OR: I saw a green lizard on a brown wall!)

Fun fact: ramarro apparently translates to “green lizard” -- but I had to leave the green out for the purposes of this tongue twister.

#langblr #italian #tongue twisters #long post #vocab #mine #excuse my rambling #you can read the whole thing or just skip my Very Informative Notes and stick to the tongue twisters #both are good

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stephspurs · 3 years

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

hey besties!! here is part 8! Part 8 see's Amelia in a change of colours, her friendship with Jorgi explored more, an awkward Chelsea player and a cheeky Villa boy. Please enjoy & send me your thoughts! Love always, Steph xx

Part 8. | parte otto

word count; 1569 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Wednesday 11/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

Landing in the rarely-sunny but always wonderful London town, Amelia was swiftly picked up from the airport by a man in a blacked out Mercedes van and driven away to her new club-appointed accommodation in the royal borough of Kensington and Chelsea. The 24 year old couldn’t help but feel a sense of home resonating through her body. Yes, Italy was also her home for the last 3 years, but there was something in the air in London that really made her believe that this is where she was meant to be.

Whilst happy that her quintessentially-British townhouse was a mere stones throw from Stamford Bridge and her family home just on the other side of the park in Holland Park she was still a 30+ minute commute, without traffic & one way, from Cobham. Beggars can’t be choosers, at least this way she was close to the hustle and bustle of London City, as well as her family and old friends.

A few days had passed since her talk with Fede, her swift departure from bella Italia saw only a small gathering occur at her apartment with some of the juventus boys on the eve before her flight. Constant check-ins from La Cosa Nostra whatsapp group chat, of course the word had spread to the rest of the Italian national team before she had even returned home from Fede’s place, meant that she was never left alone to her thoughts for too long.

Keeping the promise he had made when she phoned to tell him the news, Jorgi was knocking on her front door at 7:30am the following Monday morning, ready to drive the both of them to Cobham for Amelia’s first full day of work. He was the only person who knew she was taking this offer, other than the professional staff at Chelsea FC who had to organise her contract, so it was very much a nerve-wracking drive to the suburban training ground.

“Sapevo che stavi bene con il blu Azzurri, ma il blu Chelsea è un'altra benedizione che mi è stata conferita” (i knew you looked good in Azzurri blue, but Chelsea blue is another blessing bestowed upon me) Jorgi exclaimed as she opened the door to his car and slid in, having stopped right in front of her house in a no-park zone.

“Morning Jorgi, Thanks so much for picking me up - i’ll sort out a car this weekend i suppose”

“It's not a problem, I'm only a couple of streets away anyway so it's not out of my way.”

The pair caught up on the past couple of weeks without each other, speaking on the Fede situation and Amelia’s feelings. The best thing about Jorgi was how he was able to see both sides of the story. He valued Amelia's opinion and feelings as much as his long-time friend, Fede. He knew how hard it was for both parties to come to an amicable separation & he was making a mental note to call his italian pal to thank him for letting the girl go.

Amelia’s first day at Cobham was heavily administrative, spending a lot of time sorting out paperwork, meeting the team of staff she would be joining, getting her uniform, sorting out her office. After a quick bite to eat with the head analyst, Paolo (she just couldn’t seem to escape the Italians altogether), she collected her leather bound notebook and followed her colleague to the first team wing of Cobham. Whilst she was strictly working with the first team, she had expressed interest early on & stipulated it in her formal acceptance, that she wanted the opportunity to work with the academy players and the freedom to dip into the talent pool of Chelsea youth, to assist in perfecting her tactical plays.

She couldn’t deny that the blue of her uniform was the perfect shade to bring out the blue in her more-often-than-not grey eyes, she felt comfortable in it, she felt part of the team. Pushing open the door ahead of them, Paolo stood to the side like a true gentleman and gestured to Amelia through the door first.

______________________________________________________________

Walking in, I noticed that the scene in front of me was similar to the first time I met with some of these players. With their backs to me, facing the front, listening to every word that Tuchel was saying to them. I snuck in, stood to the side and waited for my introduction which came very shortly after.

“I want you all to meet the new tactical analyst that the club has appointed following a very successful european campaign this past summer, Amelia White” Thomas directed towards me, and just like that, a slight bit of deja-vu settled in as i watched 30+ sets of eyes turn to look at me. Some were happy to see me, some were polite and offered a small smile, and just one set looked a little shocked and very guilty.

“I trust you all will treat her with the respect that you show me, Paolo and all other members of this professional staff. We had to fight tooth and nail for this girl to join us and I can’t express how lucky we all are to be learning from her.” Tuchel dismissed his team, Jorgi pushing through the chairs to get to me.

“Amelia! What a surprise! Why didn’t you tell me about this!” Jorgi rushed over to me and wrapped me in a hug that I didn't return. Less than impressed with the boy's antics and sarcasm.

“Oh be quiet, you drove us both here today.” I spoke with a smile and rolled my eyes.

“Always the trouble maker Jorgi!” Mason Mount spoke from behind him.

“Amelia, nice to see you again! Can’t believe you didn’t tell us in the group chat!” Mason continued as he greeted me hello.

“Haha yeah, it all happened very quickly & to be honest, my decision wasn’t final until a couple of days ago. I had a few opportunities and I had to weigh up my options, Chelsea were willing to go a bit above the other clubs so it became obvious. Besides, someone once told me I would look good in the Chelsea blue” That someone also being the person who avoided my messages, and who is currently avoiding my eyes.

Later that evening.

“As if I deserved to know you picked the blues on sky sport?” Jack questioned the girl over facetime that evening, keeping their friendship tradition alive and cooking together.

“It all happened so quickly Jack, I was in talks with a few clubs and there was a bit of a tussle and negotiation stage and then I just had to pick one. Chelsea offered me the opportunity to foster the youth team talent and no one else was willing to cross-contaminate their professional staff” Amelia hurried down the phone, afraid that she hurt the brummie lad’s feelings.

“Calm down Mils, it's fine! I’m only playin wiv’ya. I’m happy for you - and me too, now I can come visit ya and have a place to stay in the city” He joked back to her. Jack had a certain way of calming the girl down, he reminded her a lot of Fede. He could read her before she came to terms with her own thoughts and feelings.

“Are you trying to tell me that you, with all of your friends and all of your money, need to rely on little old me for a place to stay in the city?” The joking tone went back to normal with the two flirtatious friends.

“No, I'm just saying that I'm happy you’re in the city. Ya know, it’s only a 2 hour drive. I could easily come down on a Friday after training and be back before a Sunday game…”

“2 hours is far too long to be in the car just to spend the day with me”

“That's where you’re wrong, it would be two nights and one whole day. Besides, 2 hours in the car is better than having to fly to get to you. I was prepared to do the latter anyway before your big move back to London” Oh did her heart swoon inside her chest, a quick blush spread across her cheeks and a little chuckle left her lips - unable to find the right words to say back to him.

Amelia knew the dangers of the situationship, this was exactly how it happened with Fede. She couldn’t help that she was naturally playful and flirtatious, she often didn't know she was doing it. Normal conversations to her often appeared like a hardcore flirt-fest to anyone who happened to be around the girl. She didn’t want to cross that line with Jack, she knew better than to do that, especially with how she hurt Fede in the end. She didn’t know where she was going to be in a few years, nor where he was going to be.

What she also recognised in the older lad that Fede also possessed, and she would be surprised if he didnt considering he is a professional football player, is that he was determined. Too determined that sometimes it was more about the chase and the challenge, rather than the aftermath or the reward. She knew Jack wouldn’t give up on her and would always be there for her. Was it bad that she enjoyed it?

Part 9. | nona parte

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

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Hi Steph!

Love you ♥️

Can you and your followers maybe help me out? I'm writing a story where John is Canadian, what are some Canadian dishes that he'd be easily scandalised over if done wrong? You know, in this joking way like when we butcher some Italian dishes for example and you get an Italian village throwing pitchforks (all jokes fam)

I think poutine is Canadian? What are some do's and don'ts?

Thank you :3

Hey Nonny!

AHHH what a fun question! Ahhhhh, funnily enough, a lot of our cuisine is very American, BUT the one I was going to suggest WAS the poutine hahahah. It’s legit one of my FAVE foods, and my city has a Poutine Fest every summer when we’re not in a pandemic, LOL, and it’s just the best thing ever.

It’s the one that is ALWAYS make or break for me personally! It differs by region and nowadays, because of the ease of “buy everything in a can” for food, but a poutine can be greatly affected by what type of the three main ingredients you use.

A proper “original” Canadian poutine (pron. POO-TEHN) is made with fresh potatoes skin-on, gravy made from beef broth (dark brown, THICK gravy... this REALLY REALLY matters), and cheese curds (NOT shredded or chopped up blocks of cheese). BUT because not everyone’s tummies can tolerate ALL THAT HARD TO DIGEST FAT AND DAIRY, obviously these days, any poutine is good, as long as it’s got good fries, hahah. Poutine Fest has trucks that sell “hamburger” poutine and “mac and cheese” poutines (I’ve had both, and they are delicious), so really, it’s all about what you like. But yeah, IF you can eat cheese, get it with curds.... it’s NOT the same without the curds. I know many Canadians judge a poutine by the curds you have in them. It’s because they melt and get SUPER stretchy, which is why it’s fun!! This website here, actually, has a pretty good rundown of how a good Canadian poutine should be made :)

These days I make my poutines with bagged frozen fries, St. Albert’s Cheese Curds (one of the local cheese farms that sells in-store), and St. Hubert canned Poutine gravy (very subpar, but it’s the best of the canned gravies for poutine), topped with bacon bits, green onions, and a dash of salt. TOTALLY not an every day snack, but it’s nice to treat myself once in awhile. Really though, there isn’t a RIGHT and WRONG way to make poutines, but I CAN say that Americans make very.... subpar poutines. Except New York Fries. Theirs is really good.

Ah, hmm, what else? Timbits (doughnut holes) are the perfect snack. Popular “group” snack, since you can order them in Party Packs.

Maple syrup, very important! The best syrup comes from sugar farms, costs a lot, but SO worth it. There’s a BIG difference between pure maple syrup and whatever fructose crap sold in bottles on the store shelf. Canadians have “maple season” from February to April where you go to a sugar shack (cabane à sucre), pour hot maple syrup onto the snow to make maple taffy / candy and eat it. Best thing ever. Every Canadian kid who grew up in Northern Ontario of my generation has gone to at least ONE during a school trip.

And another one I am REALLY fond of and miss, are Persian Buns. It’s COMPLETELY a local thing in Thunder Bay where I grew up, and when I was a kid, you made sure you had money to buy a Persian on Persian Day at school lest you look like a LOSER. It’s literally a cinnamon sweet roll with strawberry sugar icing on it. They were the best, and I miss them so much.

AHHH sorry, I got super nostalgic there. That last one is completely not an all-Canadian thing, but it’s very VERY localized.

OH!! BEAVERTAILS. Americans call them Bear Claws / Paws, we call them BeaverTails, they taste better, and they’re shaped like a beaver tail, LOL. Staple of Canadian ice skating winters on the Rideau Canal. We actually have stands here where I live all year round, but yeah, people go NUTS for them. It’s literally a pastry with cinnamon sugar, sometimes with additional toppings (see the link above) and they’re HUGE, like the length of your forearm and about an inch thick.

OH!! A Tourtière (pron. TOUR-TEE-AIR, but faster and roll the ‘R’ because French people talk fast and all our R’s are rolled LOL), which is a meat pie made with beef and pork. Some Québecois will not be happy if you make them wrong, LOL. Traditional French dish my family has on Christmas Eve.

OH. NANAIMO BARS. One wrong mess up in a recipe will ruin them. Trust me, I did this once, EEEEEE.

Montréal Style Bagels. The best bagels you will ever get, tastes like heaven, that’s why they’re shaped like halos.

OH! And Canadians are VERY VERY proud of our craft domestic LOCAL beers. Wherever John lives in your story, look up the local brewery, because that shit is important to some Canadians, and it will make the story more believable. Same goes for wines, especially if your John is from the Niagara region. They’re popular for their wineries and wine tours. And Canadian beer is better, and I don’t even like beer LOL.

Hee hee! I was just scrolling to see if there’s any other I have a comment on, and I actually found this great article about Canadian things you HAVE to try, so yeah, these are all staples of Canadiana! <3

Food Network Canada also has some here too! I have lots to say about all of them minus the seafood and the Caesar, but yeah, all of it is delicious, and just makes me proud to be a Canadian! <3

AND finally, some a lot of the best-known Canadian cuisine comes from the French Canadians and from our First Nations People [see here for some make-at-home recipes] (bannock bread is AMAZING!!), so have a look see at that too – these are the cultures I grew up with and currently live around, so they’re the ones I’m most familiar with. I know that there’s regional food out west, in the Territories, and out east that I’m unfamiliar with, but do some research on Canadian food, it’s all very unique and amazing.

As I said, a lot of Canada has a lot of “local” things, so many of us make things in our own ways, and we’re pretty easy going about it all, because it’s food and we love food. But yeah, I think poutines are the biggest one. Most Canadians who love poutine will tell you every other poutine EXCEPT a French Canadian poutine is inferior, LOL.

If any of my fellow Canadians have anything local to their region to share, or has some words about poutine because it is very divisive, please share LOL.

This was such a joy to write, and now I want Persians. :D

#steph replies #little canadian things #happy posts #i LOVE talking about being canadian #Anonymous #look i didn't bring up bagged milk aren't you proud of me all??

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mcheang · 4 years

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Lila's mother decides to speak out against the incompetence of Paris's so-called "Superheroes" after Lila goes on another lament-fest. The focus isn't on her personally though, the focus is on the public backlash as the media goes nuts over an Italian diplomat insulting Paris's beloved heroes, and the Italian government frantically trying to do damage control. Then Lila being Gabriel's "muse" is discovered, and now Gabriel has to do damage control over his... lack of support for the heroes.

Ignorance is not bliss, it’s dangerous

Hmm...I believe I wrote something similar in Blind And Foolish. Here’s the link: https://mcheang.tumblr.com/post/189582138105/blind-and-foolish

This happens after Lila claims to have to missed school again because of akuma attacks. Actually she just has another model shoot with Adrien and is allowed to be excused for class because of work. But Mrs Rossi doesn’t know that because then she would want to meet Lila’s boyfriend even more.

The daily news was thriving over a recent scandal. Apparently the Italian diplomat, Mrs Donna Rossi, had decided to generously propose to her Parisian colleagues that Italy could send in military aid to help take care of the akumas and bring down Hawkmoth. After all, they clearly need help if their police force had decided to let two incompetent heroes playing dress up fight their battles.

As you can imagine, this was a grave insult. The Paris police force was perfectly competent, thank you very much. It wasn’t their fault their enemy had superpowers. And only Ladybug could purify the akumas and fix the magical damage. Of course the teens would be given the lead since this was their speciality. And how dare Rossi say their heroes were incompetent. Ladybug and Chat Noir solve their akuma problems in less than 6 hours a day, usually less than 2 hours if the reports were anything to go by.

Mrs Rossi was astonished by the backlash she received. She reminded the Parisians that swarms of akumas have been plaguing the city for months, to the point that schools have shut down.

Response: what swarms?! Scarlet Moth was only for one day! And since when have schools been closed? They have only ended early and nothing more! Classes resume the next day!

Mrs Rossi faltered, but continued on. “Except my daughter has been confined to our house because her school was closed. Her principal was akumatized for months, too!”

When they learn Lila’s school is Dupont, there were snorts all around. Everyone knew Dupont was infamous for akumas, and they knew it was never shut down because they have walked past it daily and seem students going about their business. And everyone knew Darkowl had debuted at night...after school hours. And he was defeated before dawn. His akumatization never even affected school attendance...

The meeting was dismissed shortly and Mrs Rossi was humiliated as the Parisians angrily stormed out. Honestly, was this who they wanted to work with? An ignoramus who dares to insult their security?

News managed to leak out. The class was horrified by what Lila’s mother had said. Lila was trying to do damage control when her mother confronted her, having checked with the principal. They had both agreed that Lila would be expelled for her actions. Well...at least Lila doesn’t have to placate her class anymore...and at least she’s still got her modelling career.

Except while the Italian ambassador is pleading and apologising, promising that Donna and her daughter would be sent back at once, it came out that Donna had said such things because her daughter was a compulsive liar, a fact she had recently just found out.

As such, people are angry at Lila for insulting their heroes!

Doing research on Lila, people recognize her as Volpina and Gabriel’s latest muse. As the public currently hate Lila, they also dislike anything associated with her. Didn’t Gabriel once say in Heroes Day that Lila wasn’t a real hero? Why was he hiring this hateful hero hater then? Gabriel was responsible for Bubbler and Simon Says... is he trying to sabotage the heroes? Only putting on a public front all the while?

Gabriel quickly fired Lila and did his own damage control. He claimed after the events of Bubbler, he had decided to be more open towards Adrien’s friends. He met Lila Rossi and she seemed like a nice girl. He gave her the opportunity to model as a chance for Adrien to have more friends while working. And as for Simon Says, who wants to be hypnotized on TV? It’s a basic invitation to make a fool of yourself in public.

Donna Rossi was fired and was ordered to return to Italy with her daughter immediately before they do anymore damage.

Lila was enraged her reputation and modelling gig were ruined, but at least she could start over in Italy anyway. There were no more opportunities for her in Paris anymore. Her one regret was that she never defeated Ladybug.

Lila was wrong about starting over. While Donna was scolded and fined for causing an international dispute for her careless and negligent handling of the situation, she did decide to deal with her daughter’s compulsive lying by sending her to a correction school. Down there, the Teachers made sure everyone knew what the students were infamous for. Once everyone knew Lila was a liar and that she was supposedly responsible for some huge scandal, they decided to check it out. After that, Lila was mocked by her classmates for not hanging out with her celebrity friends and immediately volunteering her for grunt work since she loves to help out.

Lila was furious, but this time, there was no akuma to help her vent.

As for the Italian government, they tried to make amends by donating large sums of money to the Parisian police force. (I’m not sure if this is correct procedure, but hey, this is fanfic!)

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #lila is exposed #lila salt #ml salt fic #lila gets exposed #lila bashing #donna rossi #mrs rossi

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baekhvuns · 2 years

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Manifesting Canadian concerts for you! Skz only announced Seoul and US so we'll see how worldwide their tour will be... there's a kpop fest happening in Germany, I wanted to go, see Kai, Oneus, Enhypen, Idle etc. Dream is performing as well, but nah </3 Now they announced another one in London, but it already looks messy from the organisation point of view just like the German one.

As I'm writing this message Hwa posted bucket hat photos... why are they hiding ughhh, I'm tired, I can tell his hair is black anyway but I need to see how short it is. 😭 but his eyes! 🤩 Anyways, let me act normal for a second lol.

So, I'm glad you agree on Hongjoong especially! I may take criticism for the other choices but JOONG IS LONDON! I spent years of my life there and it just screams Hongjoong: eclectic, rebellious but also elegant, London is my fave city and I think Hongjoong fits there perfectly with his unique mind, fashion and creativity.

Seonghwa - Paris - I mean come on, yeah Seonghwa has typical British vibes, but he also IS Paris embodied; beautiful and a bit intimidating, Paris is called City of Light and Seonghwa is our star/torch, so it just makes sense

Yunho - Lisbon - I had to assign him a bright and colourful place, Lisbon is a bit underrated, but such a cool and laid back place!

Yeosang - Vienna - our statue, our prince, he fits the elegance of an Austrian city, but there's more to Vienna than sophisticated buildings it has many pretty green spaces that match Yeosang's fairy vibe, hahaha

San - Amsterdam - ngl we struggled with San, but decided to go with Amsterdam, since it's a very fun place, but also more lowkey and San seems like a loud introvert so I think it makes sense; Amsterdam feels both like big city and small town and Sannie is our small town boy living in a big city, uwu

Mingi - Berlin - Berlin is modern, but also traditional, entertaining and calm at the same time, I think Mingi's fashion sense fits Berlin as well

Wooyoung - Madrid - fun and wild, Woo just suits Spain imo, he's loud, warm and welcoming just like Madrid

Jongho - Rome - Jongho likes Vincenzo so of course I had to, he would definitely enjoy Italian operas as well, I think Rome is great for him since he's a bit of an old soul + loves football and Italy is really into football - DV 💖

HELLO

thank u!!! 😭😭😭 BFAMDS IM ALSO KEEPING AN EYE ON THEIR TOURS IN CASE + nct too!! omg omf 😭😭😭 u wOULDVE SEEN KAI 😭😭😭😭😭 AHH I HEARD ITS MESSY BC THEY ANNOUNCED THE TICKETS FOR KAI LATE RIGHT??? jBDNWDB U SHOULD DEF GO DESPITE THE DISORGANIZATION maybe it’ll be fun dbb

i did not think of his hair colour change bestie YOU HAD ME ZOOMING IN ON ALL ANGLES TO SEE SOMETHING 😭😭 san’s bleached his hair???? blond sullet needs a comeback,, also is it just me or do koreans rly suit blond hair??? ive always wondered how natural they look in it its rly fascinating <3

HE IS ABSOLUTELY, 100% LONDON!!! omg it’s also my favourite city!!! i love the whole rebellious edge with regality from the royalty + history,, the art and the eccentricness,,, it rly fits him so well that i have a few fics for him that are solely based in london!! something about these two scream made for each other

THIS IS SO VALID HES LITERALLY PARIS W/ R&B SONGS WITH HEAVY BASSES,, HIM at fashion shows, the opulent vibes + penthouses + ofc the lights and the city of love 😭😭 + the sweets and everything it rly fits him so well, ironic bc everyone loves paris and it’s the same for hwa!! i think budapest can also suit him, it’s super elegant

Yunho - Lisbon - I had to assign him a bright and colourful place, Lisbon is a bit underrated, but such a cool and laid back place!

LISBON IS ABSOLUTELY SO SO STUNNING it gives me like travel dreams au’s where u find yourself lost in a city and yunho somehow happens to stumble upon u and u two backpack together >>>> the trams and the general warm vibe rly rly fits yunho !!!!

bESTIE ur hitting the mark with everything here, veinna’s architecture and yeosang combined PHEWW he’s like the, like u said, sophisticated prince aura,, it’s so stunning, the details on the buildings + yeosang royal au wHEN

omg omg that explanation makes me agree !!!! amsterdam does feel small but so huge and the food 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼

YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK SAN COULD BE GREECE OR VENICE AS WELL,,, like the beaches, the stunning sunsets and the ancient temples, the hot weather and the water !!! the padada for him 😭😭😭

Mingi - Berlin - Berlin is modern, but also traditional, entertaining and calm at the same time, I think Mingi's fashion sense fits Berlin as well

if we base it off fashion, i think mingi can def also be milan !!! it’s the fashion and design capital and he would really suit well to that!!

i don’t know mich abt berlin but with ur reasoning it does sound suited for him as well, the calmness and the modern yet still traditional roots

Wooyoung - Madrid - fun and wild, Woo just suits Spain imo, he's loud, warm and welcoming just like Madrid

100%%%% I KNEW THIS WAS COMING I COULD FEEL IT IN MY BONES it fits his aloofy side, the hot weather with fun and wild and since woo likes football he would def suit this!! so much colour and warm!! absolutely 10/10

FBMWDBWMDHWK YES PLEASE my mind just thought of a au- italian opera’s omg jongho would absolutely love that,,, u rly put all of them with such good cities that for their personalities so well, this jongho and the old soul wow this one i got chills bc it rly does correlate with rome and italy itself,, it’s the calmness of him and the quietness in a garden somewhere in tuscany mayhaps,, just peacefully FBWMDJSN VINCENZO YES

#✉️ : ask #dv 💖 anon

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blackhakumen · 3 years

Text

Mini Fanfic #795: On Their Way to Isle Defino! (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

10:23 a.m. at the Smash Town's Airport.......

Coco: Got everything you need for the vacation, bud?

Tails: (Place his Traveling Bags onto the Baggage Scanner) I think so. (Turns to Coco and Wave) You think you guys are going be okay without me for a few days?

Coco: (Smiles Brightly) Oh relax. I'll be just fine~ (Covers the Side of her Mouth While Pointing at Wave Beside Her) Can't say the same for Wave though, but I'm sure we'll manage.

Wave: ('Scoffs') Please. I'll be more fine than this twerp here wishes she can be.

Coco: (Rolls her Eyes While Crossing her Arms) Says the nagging workaholic.....

Wave: (Glares at Coco) Says the bratty little know it all!

Coco: (Glares Back at Wave) Hey, don't blame me just cause I'm more smarter and cuter than you!

Wave: The only thing you're good for is being a pain in my neck!

Tails: (Sighs Once He Sees his Two Friends Glaring Intense at Each Other) Okay.....Better question? Do you think you guys can try not butting heads with one another too often while I'm gone?

Wave: (Turns Back to Tails) Relax, shorty. I can assure you that we won't be at each other's throats 24/7. Though, considering how immature the little twerpette really is, I can't say the whole process is gonna go that well in hindsight.....

Coco: (Went Back to Glaring at Wave) Are you kidding me right now!? I can be a lot more mature than you think, you know?

Wave: (Starts Rolling her Eyes) My point exactly......

Coco: Yeah? Well, your "point" is clearly an absurd proposition.

Wave: You know, now that you mentioned it....(Went Back to Glaring at Coco as Well) I'm starting think the absurdness part describes you perfectly.....

Coco: Right back at you, sister!

Tails: (Sighs Once More While Seeing Coco and Wave Are at Each Other's Throats Again) Can't say I'm surprised by this outcome really.......(Smiles Softly) I really am gonna miss you guys though.

Coco: (Walks Over and Hugs Tails Lovely) We'll miss you too, Tails. Please don't worry too much about us, alright?

Wave: (Walks Over and Gently Ruffles the Top of Tails' Hair) She's right, kid. Just focus on enjoying your vacation with the other once you get there. We can take care of ourselves just fine. (Starts Whispering in Tails' Ear) Still not sure Coco could do that on her lonesome self, but.... it's whatever.

Coco: (Glares at Wave Yet Again) You know I can still hear you right!?

Tails: (Smiles Sheepishly) I'll just take your words for it.....

.................................................................

Samus: (Putting her Bags onto the Baggage Scanner Before Turning to Chun-Li and Li-Fen) Think you two lovely ladies are gonna be okay in the big city while I'm gone to paradise?~

Chun-Li: (Giggles Softly) I'm sure we'll be just fine, Sammy. (Gives her Girlfriend a Playful Smirk on her Face) Try not to let anyone fall head over heels for you while you're there, 'kay?~

Samus: ('Heh') Please. Like any of them would come close as being as amazing as you. (Smiles Softly) You're the only woman who stole my heart, remember? I love you-

Chun-Li: (Immediately Rushes Over and Hug Samus Lovingly) I love you too!~ I'm gonna miss you soooo much, Sammy~

Samus: (Chuckles Lightly While Hugging Chun-Li Back) Right back at you, beautiful~

Li-Fen: (Rushes Over and Hugs Samus' Leg) I'll miss you too, Momma Samus!

Samus: (Chuckles Lightly Some More) I know you will, kiddo. (Lowers Herself Down to Li-Fen's Level) You think you'll be able to take care of your mom for me while I'm gone?

Li-Fen: (Happily Nodded) Mmhmm. I'll protect mommy with the Power of Kung-Fu!

Chun-Li: (Smiles Sheepishly at Samus) I've been teaching her a thing or two about it ever since the first day of my retirement.

Samus: Is that so?~ (Smiles Brightly at Chun-Li's Daughter) I'm proud of you, kiddo.

Li-Fen: (Smiles Back at Samus) Thank you. (Suddenly Begins Gasps Loudly Once He Noticed a Familiar Person at the Baggage Scanner) Uncle Foxy!!

Fox: (Noticed Someone's Calling his Name After He Place his Bag at the Scanner) Hm?

Li-Fen: (Rushes Over to Fox and Hugs Him on the Leg) I'll miss you so much.....

Chun-Li: (Joins in on the Hug Fest as Well) Me too~ Be sure to take care of Sammy once you two get to Isle Defino together, okay?

Samus: I think you got this whole thing reserved, babe. (Place her Arm onto Fox's Head With a Smirk on her Face) I'm the one who always takes care of dumb-dumb ever since we first met.

Fox: ('Sigh') As much as I hate to admit this, she kind of has a point.....

Samus: (Raised an Eyebrow at Fox) "Kind of"?

Fox: (Turns to Samus) Come on. You can't deny the fact you're more chaotic out of the two us.

Samus: And you're too reckless for your own good. Do I REALLY need to remind you all the times I saved your happy little ass?

Fox: ('Sighs in Defeat') No.....

Samus: (Kiss the Top of Fox's Head) Thought so.

Chun-Li/Li-Fen: (Giggles Softly at the Duo's Banter at One Another)

..............................................................

Hat Kid: (Rushes Over and Hugs Shadow's Leg Tightly)

Shadow: (Looks Down at Hat Kid) Hey, what's wrong? (Lowers Himself to the Girl's Level) Are you sad that I won't be able to join you on your vacation?

Hat Kid: (Sadly Nodded Before Hugging Shadow Again)

Shadow: (Sigh While Smiling a Little) Hey now. It'll be a while for the both of us to see each other again, but that doesn't mean you're entirely alone. You get to spend time with mother, father, Sonic, and everyone else in the family who loves you very much

Hat Kid: I know. (Snuggles onto Shadow While Still Hugging Him) But I'll still miss you though.....

Shadow: (Chuckles Lightly) I know, kiddo. (Hugs Hat Kid Back) I'll miss you too.

Rouge: (Watches Shadow and Hat Kid From a Distance with a Bit of Tears in her Eyes) ('Sniff') Have you ever witnessed something....('Sniff') So sad yet so precious at the same time, Omega?

Omega: Toy Story 3.

Rouge: (Giggles Softly While Resting her Head onto Omega's Metal Shoulder) Yeah. That movie made me tear up sometimes too.

...........................................................

Peach: (Sighs While Walking Next to Mario) Mario, are you sure going to Isle Defino is a good idea?

Mario: Yeah. It seems like a pretty relaxing vacation for the family to enjoy to me.

Peach: I know. I just..... don't want it to be a constant remind of everything you've been through during your time there. You know, like the whole painted town fiasco and you getting arrested for something you clearly didn't do.

Mario: (Gently Grab Peach's Hand) I know, dear, but I'm still certain it's gonna be a great experience for all of us together. (Smiles Brightly) And besides, all of that happened a long time ago. I'm sure the town folks forgot all about it a long time ago, you know?

Peach: ('Sigh') I guess you're right. (Smiles Softly at Her Knight in Shining Armor) As long as you and everyone else are happy, then that's good enough for me. You think we got everything we need for the trip?

Mario: I'd say so.

Back at the Smash Mansion.......

Rex: (Looks Around and Sees the Entire Mansion is Empty) Hello!?

One Airplane Ride to Isle Defino Later......

Almost everyone was amazed at how Bright and vibrantly beautiful the island they've arrive at truly is.

Blue Pianta: (Happily Greets the Smash Family) Welcome, Everyone, to Isle Defino! (Turns to Mario) Ah. And has been a while since we've seen you again.

Mario: Oh. (Chuckles Lightly) You guys still remembered me?

Blue Pianta: Why, of course we do! (Eyes Suddenly Turns into a Dark Shade) How can we forget the man who carelessly turn our island into a darkness?

Mario: (Eyes Widened at the Sudden Mode of Tone) .....Oh. I uh...('Clears Throat') See that....you still remembered all of that as well..... B-But you also remembered that I restored it back to the way it was, right?

Pink (Lady) Pianta: (Smiles Brightly at Mario) And we are all eternally grateful for it too. But that doesn't excuse your heinous actions in the slightest, you careless, low life of a plumber....

'Silence'

Ren: Geez..... Holding a poinless grudge much?

Bowser: (Immediately Burst Out Laughing) AHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! (Fell Down on the Floor While Laughing Even More Loudly)

Peach was about to launch herself at the two Piantas with anger in her eyes until Daisy and Samus grab hold of her, much to her struggle.

Daisy: Easy, girl! Don't let them get to you like this.

Samus: Daisy's right, Peach. They're not worth it right now. We're on vacation, remember?

Peach: (Tries Breaking Free with Little Prevail) No! Let me go! I only wanted to talk to them is all!

Samus: With your fists and legs?

Peach: YES!

Mario: (Watches the Whole Thing Going Down with his Brother By his Side) Luigi?

Luigi: Yeah, bro?

Mario: Something tells me this vacation is gonna be a lot stressful than I thought it would.

Luigi: Yeah, but....(Smiles a bit Sheepishly) I'm sure it can still be fun experience, right?

Mario: Yeah. (Hopefully.)

And with that, the Smash Family's vacation in Isle Defino begins.

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@cyber-wildcat

@26shann

@ma-lemons

@princekirijo

@italian-love-cake

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callmeelle22 · 3 years

Text

Blue Dream III

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 4, 559

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything; It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i... she feels… (Read below or on the AO3 link on the chapter title.)

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Anything

Maybe I should kill my inhibition

Maybe I'll be perfect in a new dimension

On the Saturday the week after Barry’s impromptu visit, Iris finds herself down on Main Street about half an hour after 10 in the morning. Nearly the entire 8 blocks of the street are sectioned off, with a plethora of white tents set up on both sides of the street. She glances on as she makes her way down the sidewalk, as people set up books and jewelry and clothes; beer and wine and harder liquor; food and sweets and other treats.

It’s the setup for Central City’s Fall Fest, one of a multitude of fests in the city that Iris calls home. It’ll be open to the public in a few hours and, like usual, Iris will make her way up and down the blocks a few times, holding a beer in one hand and something fried on a stick in the other, a couple of bags filled with things she doesn’t need in the crook of her elbow.

Now, though, she steps into the alley that leads to the side door of Golden’s, an Asian and American fusion restaurant and bar owned by the parents of her best friend, Linda Park. She gives a heavy-handed couple of knocks and only moments later, Linda opens the door to let her in.

Iris first met the other women when they were in the 7th grade. Iris’s parents had divorced several months prior to a new school year and for reasons not then known to Iris, her dad had gotten full custody of her and six-year-old Wally. They’d moved into a new house on the other side of town and that had meant a new school for her. Linda had sat beside her in their homeroom/advisory class and the girl with beige skin and long dark brown hair was constantly scribbling something in a notebook. Iris had discovered that they’d been stories, usually with families as the starring characters. By then, Iris had begun to write in her own notebook—musings and wonderings about the neighbors she’d just met, about what it meant to be the oldest child of divorced parents. They’d bonded over their writing; well, that and being two of only a handful of girls at the school with skin darker than the pale and spray-tanned skin of their classmates.

For over a decade, it’s been Iris and Linda. Through the messy stages of puberty and their even messier interactions with high school boys; through late-night study binges and even worse interactions with college boys. Through the drug addiction that took Iris’s mom and the car crash that had put Linda’s older brother on life support until he’d succumbed to his own injuries, they’ve navigated it all together.

Now, life gets in the way. Linda, almost immediately after undergrad graduation, had begun shopping around a number of short stories and personal essays she had written until, finally, a publisher had bit and opted to publish them as an anthology. A few years and too many nights spent locked in a room later and Linda’s book is a New York Times bestseller. Iris’s own success story is pending. In addition to completing her graduate degree (which, at 26, she’d started late, after taking some time off and working at a local newspaper), she runs a blog, one she’d started by accident. Her middle school musings had become pointed interviews and, with the classes she’d taken in college, had gotten the necessary skills to begin writing up her own human interest stories. It’s amazing, she’s learned, what people will tell you when they can hide behind the face of someone else. What a Life You’ve Lived is growing in popularity, making some money too, and it’s starting to become more than just a hobby for Iris.

Neither Iris nor Linda is ever truly free; but in a concentrated effort to make time, they brunch at least twice a month. This morning, it’s at Golden’s (where Linda is working as a bartender while she writes her next book) because her parents want them to try out new menu items. When the door shuts behind them, Linda turns and gives Iris a hug, wrapping her arms around her neck. Iris returns it, smiling into her hair, her familiar lavender scent a warm comfort she didn’t know she needed.

“I’ve missed your beautiful face,” Linda says, squeezing her hard once before letting her go.

“Yeah?” Iris asks, mouth lifting in a smirk. “Is it because you’re tired of looking at Daniel’s beautiful face?”

Linda rolls her eyes. “Never, though I’d rather put my eye out before I tell him that.”

Linda has been dating her boyfriend Daniel Ngyuen, nerdy engineer and man ridiculously head over heels for her, for a few months, after they met at a book signing hosted by Linda’s parents.

“You’re ridiculous,” Iris tells her, and Linda preens in response.

Something in Iris tightens, a faint film of green clouding her view for all of a millisecond. She’s ashamed she even had the thought, that she feels anything but happiness at the light in her friend’s chocolate brown eyes or the glow in her cheeks. She’s not jealous of Linda, of course she’s not. But Iris can’t help but find some envy at the feeling of contentment that so obviously surrounds her friend and the juxtaposition of her own drifting existence.

It’s almost tangible, these differences, at least to her. Iris can see the confidence practically emanating from Linda’s dress-clad form, the long-sleeved maxi dress and tall sandals, her wavy shoulder-length hair, making her look a little like a goddess. But Iris imagines that’s what it must look like, to be at the start of a career you’ve always wanted, to have the love of a man you’re secure in, to just...know your place, your purpose.

And maybe Iris is being dramatic. She supposes she looks as put together as she’s always thought she needed to be in her light denim jeans, pale pink cropped sweater, and tan block-heeled sandals. She’s been wearing her natural hair out this week and the wavy curls are piled up in an artfully messy bun. Still, even if Iris can’t touch on why she feels so scattered, like all of the pieces that make up the whole of her are floating aimlessly around her body, she cannot deny that the feeling is there, taking up space in her head like the songs she latches on to keep focused, maybe I should pray a little harder, or work a little smarter.

They walk through the restaurant, bustling with the waitstaff preparing for the 11 am opening. Golden’s isn’t an overly large place, only able to fit about 50 people at a time, but Iris thinks it’s a part of the charm. It’s decorated in dark brown wood and bright white and gold light fixtures; the tables and booths are spread out in a way that allows for privacy, making customers feel as if they’re in their own little worlds.

Linda leads them to their usual table, one actually tucked into a little alcove where only the Parks and their guests are allowed to sit. At the table, there’s already a carafe of juice too close to red-pink to be orange juice, along with a bottle of champagne. Outside of the wine and marijuana Friday nights and the occasional party or club, Iris only really indulges in alcohol when she and Linda have these brunches. They slide into the booth and Linda immediately reaches for the champagne.

Over the next couple of hours, Iris is reminded of why, regardless of her own issues, she loves his woman. They laugh, sharing stories of Iris’s students and the customers who come into Golden’s. They get on each other’s nerves, making jokes and ribbing the other any chance they get. At one point, Linda’s parents come out, her honey-skinned Chinese mother Xuan and her dad Theo, Chinese and white with skin like baked sugar cookies, and Iris blinks adoringly up at the both of them, always lost in their beauty—both tall and elegant with ridiculous cheekbones.

“It’s sickening,” Linda mutters as she watches Iris watch them walk away, “how you look at them.”

“I’ve had a crush on your parents for as long as I’ve known them,” Iris replies. “If they ever want a thre-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking statement,” Linda gripes and Iris howls in laughter until Linda points out the attractiveness of Iris’s own father. “You know I’d always hop on the chance to be your stepmom.”

“And I’d happily sabotage your wedding day.”

“But it’d be worth it when I got to climb on top of Daddy West during the honeymoon.”

Iris throws a strawberry at her.

She hears him before she sees him. She’s been at Fall Fest for only about twenty minutes after leaving Golden’s, full and tipsy, walking through the steadily filling streets. Of all of the festivals in Central City, of which there are several (seasonal fests like the Fall and Spring fests; food fests like the Food Truck and Italian Food fests; cultural fests like the Juneteenth and Hispanic Heritage fests), the Fall Fest is one of her favorites. It’s during the best time of the year, when the sun is still blazing but the wind cuts through the heat. When the leaves have begun to drift off trees and dance onto the ground, changing into the shades of yellow and orange and red that only nature can paint. When the booths run the gamut in what they sell, from cooked and packaged foodstuffs, to clothes and jewelry, to dance or golf lessons. It’s the one festival, besides the Pan-African Celebration, that their entire family would attend, even for a few years after the divorce. Her parents would take off work and put aside their differences to spend time together--until Wally had felt too old and her dad had needed too many more work hours and her mom had gotten too lost; and then Iris had started coming with Linda and then, this year, alone.

But she doesn’t dwell—she tries not to dwell these days—and besides, she’s just heard him.

He doesn’t sound any different in the light of the day. In her head, she keeps hearing him as he is in the throes of passion, when his voice is more of a throaty curse, when it’s a rumble against her heated flesh. Here, out here with children screaming from their blocked-off sections and ladies laughing as they smell through candle selections and men arguing from the faux sports bars set up at random tents, he should sound like anyone else. He shouldn’t even be heard over the music coming from the speakers they can’t see—down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; do do do down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; i hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will—or the sheer noise that’s true for events like this. But he is.

She looks up, ignoring the woman still trying to convince her to buy a bottle or three of perfume, and she sees him, right at the booth beside hers. He’s with two other men, one shorter with light brown skin and dark brown eyes and black hair pulled back in a ponytail; the other only a bit taller than the friend, with skin darker than Iris’s, glasses, and a short afro. Iris vaguely thinks that the three of them together are some sort of setup for a bar joke. They’re dressed similarly, in pants and t-shirts, though Iris’s eyes catch onto Barry’s hunter green chinos and white shirt, the beige pocket square matching his desert boots. All three of them have relatively full beers in their hands and Iris is looking at the cup in Barry’s hand (or rather, his fingers wrapped around the cup) for about three seconds before it jerks, beer spilling out. She looks up to find he’s looking back at her too, muttering “Iris,” in surprise.

She watches her hand and smiles back at him, a bit awkwardly, stepping away from the booth where the woman has already moved on to a new customer.

“Hi Barry,” she responds, walking over to them. She spares a glance at the other two, the Black man looking at her curiously, the Latino man a bit more humorously. “Fancy seeing you here.”

It’s not her smoothest line, but Iris thinks she might be in shock. When he’d left her, again, before she woke up on Saturday morning, she’d found his number written in tiny handwriting on the notepad on her desk, the unimaginative “call me” scribbled beneath it. She hadn’t. She’d thought about; oh had she.

On Monday, she’d debated calling him up to grab a coffee during her break. On Wednesday, she’d gotten an email about a new story and she’d wondered, for a moment, what he might think about it. But then she’d thought of his sweet mouth telling her “I wanted to know if it was as good as my memory,” and she had decided that he likely wouldn’t care about her days.

Now, he gives her a thorough once-over, probably remembering, and Iris feels a flush of heat run through her that she knows has very little to do with the warm late September sun.

“Iris,” he says again, his voice a touch higher than normal. His companions look at each other, eyebrows raised.

“Iris,” the long-haired one repeats, laughter coloring his tone. “I’m Cisco.”

“And I’m Chester,” says the one with dark skin, and they both stand there looking at her, grinning like loons until Barry cuts in.

“Alright, stop being weird.”

They don’t. Barry rolls his eyes and pushes past them to stand in front of her. Even with the heels she’s wearing, she has to stretch her neck a little to look up at him.

“Hey,” he says, this time lower, a soft breeze on her skin.

“Hi,” she repeats, just as softly.

The sounds of the carnival don’t disappear so much as they become muted, such as if she were submerged in water or if there was a rushing in her ears, because everything becomes background noise save for the concentrated sound of his voice.

“You didn’t call,” he says to her.

“I—” she starts, but she’s got nothing to say, not anything that won’t make her sound needy or desperate.

“Hey Barry,” Cisco calls.

“Yeah?” Barry answers, but he doesn’t turn away from her. No, he’s looking at her still, assessing her almost. He’s trying to figure something out, she decides, or at least that’s how it seems, what with the way he stares so intently, blue-green eyes pouring into her, bringing up images of them staring up at her from between her thighs, bringing out impressions that feel like more than lust, like more than just two people who’ve only ever bared their bodies to each other.

“We’re gonna go to another tent,” Chester says. “Catch up with you later.”

“Alright,” is the reply, those eyes glittering like the sea in the afternoon sun, still fixed on her. There’s a slight frown to his mouth, and when he speaks again, she can’t tell if he’s reached his conclusion or not.

“Walk with me?”

She nods before she even thinks about it. “Sure.”

They start back down the path. The booths are in abundance this year; it’s a bigger festival than she’s seen before. For a while, they don’t talk. They walk side by side, arms brushing every so often, stopping at booths that catch their attention. For him is a booth with a variety of multi-piece puzzles, some featuring landscapes and gardens, others of the solar system or space. For her, it’s one selling notebooks, beautiful leather-bound journals. She stops, enthralled, picking up one in coral-colored leather with rose-gold edging.

“We can also engrave the name,” the sun-tanned woman with pale blonde hair behind the tent says. “Or you can order custom colors.”

Iris nods, murmurs, “these are really nice,” and continues flipping through the heavy cream paper in the coral notebook. These days, much of her writing gets done on her overused Macbook; it’s just easier that way. But when she writes, for herself—little anecdotes about her day, her feelings spelled out in poetry—she does so in notebooks like these.

“You’re a writer,” Barry wonders and it’s a statement as much as it’s a question.

“Yeah.” She looks up at him and nods. “I’m actually getting my master’s in journalism.”

She puts the journal down once she notes the $40 price tag and thanks the woman as they walk off, Iris looking back at the notebook with longing.

“I also run a blog,” she tells him, and the words tumbling out of her mouth are a shock.

“Really?” he looks at her in surprise. “What’s the site? Is it popular?”

It’s not like she’s embarrassed of her blog or anything, but it feels different, to tell people she knows about her work. Because it’s one thing for strangers to read what she types out in earnest, and in tears and in vulnerability, but it’s something altogether different for people she knows to do the same. They aren’t her stories, not actually, but they are always her words, always her emotions she puts into them, and it feels too, too telling somehow.

“It’s growing in popularity,” she tells him, because she’s the one who opened this can of worms. “It’s called What a Life You’ve Lived.”

He hums, like that means something to him, but before she can ask what, two kids come barreling through the aisle. Iris tries to step out of the way and she slips, her heel catching in a small crack in the asphalt. Her knees buckle, but before she can hit the ground, Barry’s arms are around her. One of his large hands holds onto her, pressed against the bare skin of her belly, and then she’s pressed fully against him.

It’s absurd how much she likes the feel of him—the slim but corded muscles in his arms, the apparent strength in his fingers; and she likes the smell of him too, the faint hint of his laundry detergent mixed with the heat of the sun mixed with the citrus of his cologne. It’s another moment (™), which doesn’t make sense because he’s only just caught her from falling. But he’s looking at her like there is more in her gaze besides the brown of her irises, the flutter of her lashes. It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i...she feels…

“Are you alright?”

Barry’s voice is quiet, too quiet for the energy they’re surrounded by. And maybe she doesn’t even hear it as she does read the movement of his pink mouth.

“Yeah, I am.”

He straightens, then, and gives her a half-smile. “You know, Iris, if you wanted to fall all over me, you could have just called.”

He likely had been trying for levity, but it’s pointed, right there at the end. She steps away from him and he lets her, his fingers sliding along the small of her back until they’re no longer on her skin. It leaves her cold

(only that can’t be true, because it’s far too warm out)

and she watches as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“I was waiting on your call, Iris.”

They've moved into a corner where the direction of the festival booths turn right. Straight ahead of them is a 21+ section; it features a stage where performances will begin around 5 as well as a number of makeshift bar stations. There’s a similar set-up with kid-friendly activities on the other side of the festival. Barry’s friends are standing at one of the bar stations talking to two women, both with chestnut-brown skin and long kinky hair. Iris’s eyes shift to take in the rest of her surroundings, to the sound of people laughing and the couples holding hands and the families who seem elated to be together on a day like today.

When she turns back, Barry is patiently watching her, head tilted to the side, expression thoughtful, like it always tends to be.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Barry suggests “We can walk around some more. And once we get sun-tired, I can take you to this spot that I like nearby and we can talk. Maybe about why you didn’t call.”

She licks her lips, pulls the bottom one between her teeth. She hedges, long enough to tell herself that this would be a foolish endeavor, that she should just say no, that he’s nice and cute and what harm would it do. But, really, when he asks, those cyan eyes gleaming and his cheeks faintly pink and his face so goddamn hopeful it almost makes her look away, she really has no other choice.

“Okay, sure.”

She doesn’t tell him why she doesn’t call.

What she does is tell him about her dad and how she’s always been in awe of him, of his grace and his strength and the lessons he’d taught her. She tells him about Wally, who’s brilliant and searching, trying to figure out his way (not unlike her, though this she doesn’t say). She tells him about Linda, her sister in all of the ways that count, who’s always with her, even when she isn’t. And when he asks, because of course he does, she tells him about her mother who was beautiful and kind, all the way until sickness took her away.

She tells him this because he tells her first, about a larger-than-life father whose proximity to wrong-doing bureaucrats had landed him in prison, and an easy-going mother whose life had ended because someone else had been desperate for the money in her purse.

They do indeed walk around ‘til they’re tired, until around 6. Then Barry takes her to a little American bistro where they pride themselves on grass-fed meats and homegrown vegetables. They devour burgers the size of their heads and a mountain of fries that deserve their own table. He stuffs her with food and a piece of pie after, and he asks her some questions. He wants to know her favorite color and the television show she’s currently watching and if she’s always wanted to be a writer: yellow and Bridgerton and only since her parents’ divorce, when she’d needed to know that hers was only a unique story—or maybe she had needed confirmation that it wasn’t. She wonders about his dream job, his favorite hobby, the one thing he wishes he could do: forensic scientist, which he is, amateur theater, and getting his dad out of prison. That opens up a space for more convolution than should be allowed on a first date, and so she asks him more about amateur theater.

After, he walks her back to where her car is parked past Golden’s. When they get there, he listens for the sound of her car alarm, and then he turns her around, pressing her back against her car door. He walks closer, a hand at her waist, the other reaching up to cup the back of her neck, thumb circling lightly around her throat.

“Thank you for dinner,” she whispers. “I had a really nice time.”

“Yeah?” His mouth ticks up, that half-smile that is somehow both charming and a little bit maddening. “Enough that I might get a kiss?”

She tilts her head as if in thought, even as she gives in to her desire to touch him too, reaching up to finger at the faint moles dotting her cheeks. She only barely nods her acquiescence when he closes whatever distance is left and kisses her. Iris is always surprised by how warm his mouth is, by how sweet he tastes. He tastes like the apple pie they had earlier, but also like early sunset coffee on cool fall mornings and like how slow sex in the middle of the night feels.

He’s gentle in some ways, his mouth moving slow against hers, his tongue licking into her mouth like he’s trying to find life inside of her. But he’s a little rough too, squeezing at her waist so he won’t fondle her in the middle of the street, tightening his hold on her throat, only a little, but enough that Iris begins to feel the action in the throb of her sex. They kiss, eyes closed, her own fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, her hips thrusting against his in time to the flick of his tongue across her bottom lip, until she feels the swell of his dick against her belly and her loud moan tears him away from her.

“Fuck Iris,” he all but growls, licking his lips as he looks her over, a little wrecked. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it, playing with the soft strands of his hair, until she notices it’s all messy, matching the state of his swollen mouth, his wrinkled skirt, the heavy dent in the center of his pants. She wonders what she looks like.

“Get in the car, baby.”

Wide-eyed at the endearment outside of sex, Iris does as he tells her to, sliding in and buckling up before he closes the door. When the purr of her engine starts, he motions for her to roll her window down. She does, waiting as he plants his elbow on top of the car, bending his lean frame down so that his face is level with her.

He smiles softly at her. “Go out with me next Sunday.”

She bites at her lip, if only to give herself another moment to breathe. Because this date would be moving beyond a two-night stand, beyond an impromptu date, far beyond kissing on the side of the street.

“What time on Sunday?”

“Early afternoon,” he says and leans in even closer. “I’ll pick you up.”

She nods before she can talk herself out of it, even if she knows that she should. Barry motions for her with a crook of one of his long fingers, and it makes her think of what’s been playing in her head, of down for the ride, down for the ride; you can take me anywhere, and when she comes to, he places a sweet kiss on her mouth.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says, pulling away slowly.

And then Iris watches him—his strong and assured walk, his compelling and commanding aura—until she can’t see him anymore.

Do do do down for the ride, down for the ride

You could take me anywhere

I hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will

#westallen fanfiction #strangers to lovers #iris west #barry allen

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