#like most of those shows were so obviously faked because the acting was fucking terrible but the cullens are actually just Like That ™️

[twilightofficial]

I'm like on a kick of watching the worst mtv shows from the early 2000's (hence the NEXT post lol) and like the way the Cullen's could've been on all of them is hilarious. Proof they are trash

#like most of those shows were so obviously faked because the acting was fucking terrible but the cullens are actually just Like That ™️ #alice going feral on my suoer sweet 16 in crazy party planning mode #charlie gets bella and edward on parental control to try and get her to break up with eddie and the two dudes he chooses for the dates are #Jacob and Mike #edward 'pimping' bellas ride by making it unusable so she cant go see jacob #Rosalie and Emmett just dominating on Real World

[nashibirne]

DESPERADO - 3

Helen and August are back. Sorry it took me a while to write the next chapter but our holidays got in the way of writing. Anyway, here it is and it's getting a little steamy. I somehow struggled with writing the smut this time, it was somewhat hard to find the right balance in their dynamics but I think it turned out fine in the end. I hope you like it, too. As you know, writers live off validation, so comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated 💜

Pairing: Augut Walker x OFC (Helen Nichols)

Summary: August has survived the fight with Ethan Hunt and the fall from the cliff. A few lucky coincidences saved his life and he ends up with a woman that saves him and gives him shelter in her little hermit hut. He is at a turning point in his life. What is he going to do?

Word count: ~ 3.1 k

Warnings: Description of injuries, smut, NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal sex

NO BETA! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

Credits: I don’t own August Walker and anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claim Helen: Rooney Mara

You can find parts 1 and 2 and my other fics on my masterlist.

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc

Let's go...

***************

Desperado

Oh, you ain't gettin' no younger

Your pain and your hunger

They're drivin' you home

Freedom, oh freedom

Well that's just some people talkin'

Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone

From Desperado by The Eagles, Lyrics: Don Henley, Glenn Frey

"She's dead. She died in an accident. She was gone. I stayed."

No matter how hard August tried to find out more about Allison, there was no way to make Helen tell him anything else but these simple basics. She'd worked hard on building a protective wall around that part of her heart and her mind, she had closed off the grief and the feeling of guilt and she wasn't willing to hand over the key to her memories to a random stranger who was lying about his identity.

Besides August's futile attempts to pry into Helen's past the next two weeks were quite harmonious. While Helen had decided to ignore the fact that Austin Peters was a fake persona to avoid any kinds of complications, August had decided to accept the inevitable and to be a nice houseguest and he grudgingly let Helen take care of him. They soon got used to the fact that her help made them share pretty intimate moments and August had a hard time granting her access to his personal space, letting her literally touch him everywhere when she had to treat his wounds or help him get dressed and undressed, but he also watched her blush and shy away from him with fiendish joy.

It made him feel better about his face that his body obviously still had a significant effect on Helen and he couldn't deny that seeing her running around in her underwear or imagining her standing in the shower naked had a certain effect on him too. And it wasn't only physical, he really started to like her. She was smart and tough but also witty and cheeky sometimes, and it was hard for him to admit to himself that he enjoyed her company. Stockholm syndrome for sure, he tried to tell himself but in the back of his mind he knew the truth.

He had no idea that Helen felt the same and that her aloof manner was mostly facade. Behind the mask of indifference she was growing warm feelings for him. Warm, foolish, irrational feelings for a man she actually knew nothing about and who was involved in an FBI investigation. She blamed her hunger for interpersonal interactions and warmth that resulted from her self-chosen isolation for these surfacing emotions and did her best to ignore them.

What was really bothering Helen most after only a few days was the sleeping situation. Despite the fact that the there-is-only-one-bed-trope was everything from hot to romantic in theory it was only leading to back pain in reality. August kept on offering to sleep on the couch but she wouldn't let him. He needed a comfortable place to sleep and her sofa was hardly big enough for her. A tall man like him wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep on it. So after 14 nights she decided to do something about it. She had made a call in the morning, August had heard her muffled voice from the kitchen when he was in the bathroom, and now a car was driving up to the hut. He started to panic.

"Who's that?"

He looked at Helen and she gave him a shrug.

"A friend. He's bringing me a folding bed, called him this morning. I'm not going to survive another night on the couch."

A car door was slammed shut with a thud and foot steps were coming closer to the front door.

"He can't come in, Helen", August whispered, giving her a pleading glance. She raised an eyebrow.

"Why's that?"

"He mustn't see me. Please."

Helen eyed him up and down and when it knocked August held his breath, his heart racing. She turned to the door without another word and August grabbed a large knife from the knife block before hiding in the corner of the room that wasn't visible from the entrance. Helen flinched when she realized that he'd armed himself but after taking a deep breath she opened the door with a nonchalant smile.

"Naseer. Hi. That was quick."

"Hi Helen. Yeah, it sounded urgent on the phone and you can't sleep in a broken bed so I thought I better bring you the folding bed as soon as possible."

August tried to imagine the man who belonged to the pleasant, warm voice. His English was very good but he clearly wasn't a native speaker. Someone from the village he guessed. From the village he would have erased without batting an eyelid just two weeks ago. His stomach twisted at the thought and it filled him with anger that he seemed to evolve something like a conscience lately.

"That's really kind of you."

He could hear the smile in Helen's voice.

"Let me help you unload it."

"No, I'll go and get it. Just tell me where to put it."

"Just put it here on the porch. I'll take care of it later."

Naseer gave Helen a funny look and she knew he was thinking she was acting strange but she could hardly let him walk inside the hut where August was awaiting him with a knife. She watched her only friend walk to his truck, grabbing the bed from the loading space and carrying it to the house.

"It's no problem to carry it inside", he said when he was standing in front of Helen again. "I could also fix your bed. I built it, it shouldn't be hard to replace a broken part."

He built it? The guy built Helen's bed? August started to wonder what kind of friend he was and why the question bothered him so much.

"No! No, that won't be necessary, Naseer."

Christ, woman, don't talk so fast. Her nervousness was showing in her voice and August was worried he might really have to use that fucking knife.

"Really, it's fine...I'm quite busy right now. In the middle of a creative phase...you know...kissed by the muse."

Good girl, back on track. August's heart rate went back to normal.

"You're working on your book again? That's great, Hel."

Hel? He rolled his eyes, annoyed and impatient.

"Yeah, it really is. My agent is pretty relieved too, my writer's block made him quite nervous. But I'm working almost non-stop on it...so yeah."

She shrugged with a sheepish grin, feeling terrible for lying to him.

"Is that why you needed all those supplies? Because you don't want to leave for grocery shopping in the next few weeks? Your truck was loaded when we met the other day."

"Exactly."

"I see...well…"

"Yeah…"

"I better get going then. Let you work in peace…"

"Thanks for stopping by, Naseer."

"Anytime. You know you can always call me when something's wrong or when you need help, right?"

"Of course." Her laugh sounded fake and nervous and for a moment she thought Naseer was going to ask her what was going on but he only gave her a worried look before he left. Helen let out a long sigh of relief, turned around and closed the door behind her.

"He's gone. You can put that away." She pointed at the knife August clung to, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

"What?" He looked at her angrily, putting the knife back in the knife block. "I just wanted to be prepared."

Helen let out a snort. "For what? Naseer attacking an injured stranger?"

"I don't know him."

"But I do. He's a friend and you made me act rude without a reason."

"A friend, huh? Hel?" August said in a mocking tone wiggling his eyebrows. He tried to be cheeky and make her laugh to ease the tension but he knew it was a stupid move as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Yes. A friend. Austin."

She was still being deadly serious and stressed his false name pointedly crossing her arms in front of her chest. August didn't know what to say or do to keep the situation from escalating so he just shrugged.

"Fine."

"Fine? That's all you have to say? For fucks sake...tell me why you didn't want Naseer to see you. Explain to me why you armed yourself with a knife, hiding in a dark corner of my house. My fucking house, goddamn…in which you found shelter..." She was furious now and he made a step towards her, his hands raised up in surrender. "Okay, listen, Helen."

"I'm all ears."

"As I said, it was just taking precautions. I'm a mistrustful person, made some bad experiences in the past and got hurt too often."

"Bullshit." She shook her head. "Don't try to tug at my heartstrings. Just tell me the truth."

August took a deep breath, he was getting frustrated and annoyed by her insistence.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, okay? Let's just leave it at that or…"

“Or what? Are you going to kill me?”

Her voice was full of sarcasm but her eyes showed him that a part of her was scared of him, wondering what he was capable of. The logical answer to her question would have been yes. His answer should have been yes, but when he said no, when he denied it, August meant it. He wasn't going to kill her nor would he ever hurt her.

“No, but I still can’t tell you.”

She could tell by the expression on his face that he was torn. He wanted to open up to her, but he felt like he couldn't.

“Just give me something. A little part of the truth to help me understand who you are, where you’re coming from and what you`re up to."

“That’s not so easy, Helen. You might not like what you’re going to hear.”

He gave her a shrug and something that was supposed to be a smile.

“I don’t care. August.”

He blinked repeatedly. “Sorry?”

“Yes...August.” She rolled her eyes. “I know that you've been lying to me from day one."

He got up and started to pace the hut, still hobbling a little, though his ankle was much better. He wasn’t really worried just debating with himself. After a while he stopped by the window, staring outside. “You're right. My name is August. August Walker.”

"Thanks, but I already know that much", Helen snapped.

"How did you find out about my name?" He asked as calmly as his fluttering nerves allowed it, turning around to look her in the eyes.

"Why did you lie to me?" Helen threw him a challenging look.

"How much do you know?" August was not willing to leave his questions unanswered.

"Why. Did. You. Lie. To. Me?" Helen shouted at him.

"It's none of your fucking business", he yelled back.

Helen laughed out loud.

"It's none of my business? Are you kidding me? I saved you. I let you stay in my house, sleep in my bed, I treat your wounds, I take care of you, give you shelter, I've helped you in every possible way, no matter how many of my personal boundaries have been transgressed and now you're seriously telling me that it's none of my business that you've lied to me all this fucking time?"

"I've never asked for your help."

His voice was calm, his facial expression blank and stern but his eyes were blazing with emotion. His stare was so intense it made Helen shiver.

"You ungrateful ass", she whispered, stunned by his audacity. "You took all I had to give without saying thank you only once. And now you're…"

He was right in front of her with two big strides, his lips crashing on hers with unexpected passion. Helen was too surprised to think about her reaction. She instinctively kissed him back, granting him access, letting him deepen the kiss, allowing his hands to explore her body. 60 seconds later she was in control of herself again. She pushed him away, staring at him dumbfounded.

"Shit. What are you doing?"

"Expressing my gratitude."

He gave her an outrageously sexy smirk and it took Helen just a split second to grab him by his shirt and pull him close again to kiss him feverishly. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. She wanted him now.

August pressed her against the wall with his huge body, caressing her tits through her clothes while kissing her neck. She moaned and started to tug at his shirt. He took it off in a hurry and Helen got rid of her top and bra. When they kissed again she let her hands run over his chest gently, making sure not to hurt him. She pulled away and looked at him, at his scarred face that was still so handsome now that the wounds were healing and the swelling had gone down around his eye. August averted his eyes, burying his head in the crook of her neck again, withdrawing from her gaze.

"Turn around", he mumbled, taking her by her waist.

She did what he asked her to do but when she heard him fumble with his belt and the sound of his pants hitting the floor behind her back, when his hands tried to pull down her sweatpants impatiently, she turned around again. She reached up and cupped his face with her tiny hands, running her thumb tenderly over his burnt skin.

"Listen, August. This is not going to be a quickie, okay? You want to express your gratitude? Great. I like this. But do it properly. Fuck me rough, if you want to, fuck me hard, but don't you dare to hide from me. Look at me. Kiss me. Give me the feeling of being wanted. Pretend it's more than just some kind of job."

He looked at her with an unreadable expression, hesitating for a moment. He opened his mouth but instead of saying something he pressed his lips together with a nod. Helen smiled at him before stripping naked slowly.

When he kissed her again he took his time, enjoying the sensation of holding her naked body close to his now. She was surprised by his tenderness, by his gentle touch and the delicate kisses he covered her body with and blown away by the passion that soon erupted from deep within him. It was just a small step from long, slow kisses to making out like two hungry predators.

He lifted her up easily and carried her to her bed where he laid her down on her back carefully. He climbed between her legs and looked at her.

"Ready to get fucked like never before?"

She smirked. "Big words. I hope you're not all mouth."

"You don't like my mouth?" He started to kiss her belly, licking her skin, leaving a wet trace that led down south where his tongue met her soft pubic hair.

"I love your mouth."

Helen moaned when he kissed her pussy and parted her folds with his tongue.

"Yeah? You like my tongue too?"

He started to tongue fuck her and she grabbed his head, pressing his face closer to her sex.

"Shut up and eat me out."

She threw her head back when sucked on her clit.

"Oh fuck…" She moved her hips slowly to the rhythm of his actions, rolling them with intense motions, burying her fingers in his thick, curly hair. "Just like this...yes."

Her moans got louder and louder and his dick was so hard it hurt, leaking precum. He knew she was about to come but she stopped him before she climaxed.

"Lay down", she ordered and so they switched positions. August had always been a dominant lover but being bossed around by her was a great turn on. He loved how determined she was, it was incredibly sexy how she was chasing her high, not even trying to hide that she wanted to fulfil her own needs most of all. She was starved, desperately in need of this, of him. In this moment she needed him, she wanted him, she allowed him to give her what she was craving.

Helen was kneeling between his legs now, grabbing his dick. "I love your cock too." She grinned at him before she started to suck him off with a devotion that was new to him.

She turned him into a whimpering, panting mess soon, her lips and her tongue working their magic on his dick, and just like her, he grabbed her head to have some kind of control over her actions. He made her take him deeper and she took him deeper.

"Good girl. Taking me so well."

His voice was raspy and she locked eyes with him, her gaze telling him that she liked to be praised. August groaned when she slowly pulled back, licking his length one last time.

"Fuck, Helen...I need to feel you."

"I'll make you feel me."

Saliva was dripping from her swollen lips and he almost got off just by the sight of it. His saviour, his saint had turned into a shameless whore and he was willing to worship and adore her for being his dirty, little slut.

"Yes, you will."

He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her onto his cock. She sighed with pleasure when he entered her tight cunt, stretching her wet pussy and as soon as she got used to his size she started to ride him, rolling her hips slowly in a rhythm that was giving them both the greatest pleasure. August stroked her tits, caressed and kneaded them and she supported her body with her hands on his chest. She picked up speed and when August pinched her nipple she came with a hoarse shriek, her whole body trembling with ecstasy and lust.

Helen bent down to kiss him and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly while thrusting his hips. He fucked her without restraint now, his thrusts hard, fast and deep. He railed her mercilessly until his intense orgasm swept him away. He let out a long, satisfied moan and loosened his grip on her body.

He kissed her again but she seemed to be in a rush suddenly and rolled off him and went to the bathroom. August was kind of surprised and sobered to a certain degree when he heard that she was taking a shower. She either couldn't stand after-sex-cuddles in general or she really thought that he had just done her a favor to thank her for her hospitality.

He wondered how many times he would have to fuck her till she was willing to fall asleep in his arms afterwards.

*****

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #august walker smut #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc

[omiscurls]

omi doesn’t like flowers

sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader fluff

 cw: the reader has a little sibling, i hope nobody minds, there’s one line of very slightly implied nsfw, you won’t even notice

meant for kiyoomi’s birthday! happy b-day to my favorite boy <3 

one of the first things you’ve learnt about your boyfriend, even before your relationship started, is that he rarely shared personal information with anyone. he’d go as far as put up a fake birthday on his social media to avoid the awkward wishes and tons of yet another gifts from fans he so didn’t like going through. apart from that, there was a lot of weird things going on with birthdays, in his opinion: for instance people automatically thinking about zodiac sign or assuming other things, insisting to have a party, (a surprise one was his biggest nightmare) and a whole lot of other stuff he found appalling.

so it was just simply easier to say his birthday is “mid november” and get on with his life as if he didn’t just straight up lie. and truth be told, many times had you heard that “oh, in summer” or “right before christmas” before you got to know the truth. it wasn’t that easy on its own, but ever since his first little white lie, you knew he wasn’t true with you, and kept insisting, until he finally pulled you to the side and told you his real date of birth, the one only komori, atsumu, and, as he used to say, “unfortunately” his family knew.

march 20th was the date, and since you wanted to tease him, a grin appeared on your face before you mumbled “so a pisces, huh?” and earned a glare so cold and deadly, you visibly shivered before apologizing.

the next thing you learned about him and his birthday, was that he was picky about gifts. which went well with that “i’m an old fashioned gentleman” facade, because he could just say “oh, you don’t have to buy me anything. your company will be enough” with a slight smile he’d practice for years, and people thought he was just being humble and polite. spoiler alert: he wasn’t. he just didn’t want to deal with his own pickiness, and explaining to people what precisely would he like to get was too much trouble, and took away the magic of it even for someone as blunt as kiyoomi sakusa.

it’s not like birthdays were such a big deal for him, anyway, he didn’t need any gifts or parties to celebrate the fact that he just got one year older. what was so fun about that? but like the pain in the arse you were, you kept asking him what he wanted for the occassion way before he asked you out, and he hated it, but not more than he hated the way his heart jumped at the possibility of getting something you spent your time on. 

the first year of your friendship, you got to know the basic thing: omi doesn’t like gifts. gifts make him uncomfortable, he didn’t know what to say, how to act, what to do with it... does he open it right then and there, or wait, but why would he immediately thank someone if he doesn’t even open it? schroedinger’s cat: if he doesn’t open it, it might as well be thin air inside the box.

it was confusing, and weird. you also learnt that it was all caused by the fact that no one was in the house to celebrate young omi’s birthday back in his childhood days, since his parents were working and his siblings long away in college, so he just assumed it was a holiday to be overlooked and not dwelled too much on, and got so used to it, that now it bothered him to be in the center of attention for once. 

the third thing you learnt that year: it was almost impossible to find him a good enough gift, at least from your perspective. you spent literal hours at the store, looking at the different things he might’ve wanted, but nothing caught your eye. you called all his friends, yet he hadn’t mentioned the thing he’d like to anyone, not even komori. so you decided you’d go with instinct and remembered one cold morning when he showed up to practice grumpier than usual, and when he was asked what’s wrong, he answered:

“i woke up late and didn’t have time to make coffee”, half mumbling, half actually speaking, eyes too tired to be annoyed, legs slowly sweeping one before another as if he was forced to come here. And that’s where you got your idea. 

His first birthday with you, being his 21st, had started terribly, because it was wishes from his family. He’d told you multiple times he’d rather have them forget that send those copied off the internet lines that mean less than a “go fuck yourself” 

later on atsumu insisted or telling everyone and it took poor omi more than twenty minutes to convince him not to, and as both the setter and the spiker weren’t in their top moods nor form, MSBY lost a match they had that day. so all he wanted to do march 20th 2017 when he came home was to lay flat on his couch and play with his dog’s fur while watching a crappy TV show. he most definitely didn’t expect you sitting in front of his apartment’s door, tired, almost asleep. 

he sighed, approching you and slightly nudging your foot with his, making you shake your head and look up. 

“you’re back!” you said with a smile, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“and you look like a homeless person” he responded upsentmindedly, avoiding you to reach the door lock. only after you got up did he see a small package you held behind your back. “it’s not a right day to be celebrating me, y/n” he added, opening his apartment’s door and letting you in with a hand gesture. you went inside, not for the first time ever, but every time the feeling was the same, intimidating and cold. 

“why do you think that?” you said, taking off your shoes and putting them on a rack, and turning around to see him navigate you to the bathroom. you placed your bag and the gift on the floor before following his steps. 

“didn’t you see the match? i fucked up big time” he chuckled ironically, looking at himself in the mirror, and you could witness the disappointment and anger in his eyes. 

“so every time you guys win and you get the credit, you say that volleyball is a team sport, but if you loose, suddenly it’s your fault?” you smirked, but to your surprise he nodded. 

“precisely”. 

“well, regardless, it’s a minor set back. you’re still the best they make” you tried to cheer him up, but only received an eye roll in return. “aaaand, you’re a birthday boy today!”

“don’t remind me” he sighed, walking over to the kitchen to see what he can make for dinner for himself and his uninvited guest, meanwhile you grabbed your gift and walked up right behind him, tapping his shoulder lightly. 

“happy 21″ you whispered, a slight, soft smile on your lips, as you handed him the package. he looked at you with a tired look in his eyes. 

“you know i’m not the biggest fan of gifts” 

“just open it, grumpy face” you whined, and he gently took it from you, placing it on the counter and carefully unwraping it, to see a thermal mug. he sent you a questioning look, before you explained “you were complaining about not having enough time to drink coffee before leaving, right? well now you don’t have to drink it before leaving” 

there was silence for a long while before he looked up from the mug and gave you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. “that’s so thoughtful of you” he said, and laughed a tiny bit, probably to cover his emotion, which obviously didn’t work “thank you.”

omi likes thoughtful gestures. 

over the second year of your friendship, as he and his career gained more recognition from the public, he was “forced”, as he’d reffer to it, to share such a personal information that is his birthday date. the managers always claimed that it’s not a big deal, that it’s just gonna be added to the oficial page and his wikipedia, but judging from the amount of gifts atsumu, bokuto and hinata always received, he had his reason to doubt that. 

and as it turned out, he was right. 

because starting from march 10th, his personal mailbox as well as the oficial MSBY’s mailbox has been FLOODED with different things that he really had no energy to go over. and so, he invited one of his best friends to help. 

so it was late at night on march 19th, and you were both sitting on the floor of his apartment, a mess of ripped wrapping paper all around you, loads of different stuff laying on the table, as you still had a lot of things to open. 

“what even is the point in sending presents to someone you’ve never met? i mean less to them than their neigbour’s dog and yet i’m the one getting gifts? this is messed up” he kept on complaining, opening another package. 

“it’s called being famous, sakusa-kun. you mean very much to people you’ve never met, because your journey to where you are now inspires them to keep going on their path until they reach their dreams” you said with a smile, confident it’ll ease his worries, but it didn’t. 

“don’t know if i consider being in the Jackals my dream, though”

“you mean, you don’t think being a key player in a division one team is not a dream come true?” you asked, shocked. 

“no, no, of course i think it is, i’d never thought i’d reach this far, but, there’s more things to be done, it’s not like i’m an accomplished person just yet” 

that, you found interesting. 

“really? than what are your dreams, sakusa?” you asked in a low voice, eyes fixed on his face, as he focused on reading a letter in his hands. 

“national team” he murmured “MVP, a golden medal, a legacy that goes beyond just me” he opened up as if it was nothing, as if he was talking about his grocery list “but that all wouldn’t mean a thing if i were there alone, though. i’ve received plenty awards and mvp’s over the few years that i played, but i guess what would really matter, and make everything else worth remembering, would be... having someone be proud of me, i guess”

you felt your heart getting soft and fuzzy at the confession, wanting to respond, before he handed you the note he was silently reading. 

“this is a poem, y/n, a POEM! what the hell, i don’t even understand what’s going on there” he whined, throwing his head back to rest on the couch seat, as you giggled, reading the note. 

“it’s nice” you said in a high-pitched tone, pushing down a laugh. 

“it’s too... sophisticated” he uttered, looking at you, a tired look in his eyes. “that’s my mother’s thing, to be sophisticated, i like simpler wishes, they’re easier to believe” 

omi doesn’t like fancy words.

you nodded, but before you could say anything, your phone rang, and both of you looked at the screen. the hour on display marked midnight, and as the alarm ranged, the words “omi’s b-day!!!” appeared on the screen. he smiled subconsciously, noticing how you always address him as “sakusa” or “sakusa-kun” but the notif in your phone stated “omi”. 

“looks like it’s the 20th already, birthday boy” you grinned, turning off the alarm. 

“don’t call me that, what am i, six or something?” 

you decided to ignore the comment, and smiled at him warmly before speaking, almost under your own breath:

“happy 22, sakusa. i wish you only to be here to hear me say happy 23 next year. and say so with pride.”

his eyes appeared foggy and glossy, but it was probably fault of poor lighting and tiredness. 

“why stop at 23?” he asked, before standing up, and offering you his hand to pick you up, too. 

omi likes very real wishes. 

over the third year of your friendship you became very close. ever since that night on his living room floor, both of you couldn’t wrap your minds about anything other than each other. neither of you oblivious idiots found out what it was about, but day after day and month after month it was harder and harder to spend time apart. 

before he could notice, sakusa always tried to find you in the crowd before serving, and that’s how he always used up most of his time. once, he even heard ushijima complain “how much longer are you going to take? be a man and beat me without your good luck charm!” 

his good luck charm, huh?

you kinda liked the sound of that. 

you also found yourself texting him every random thought that came to your head, sending pictures of everything, becasue you wanted to share as much of your life as possible, meeting up whenever you could and facetiming whenever you couldn’t. 

it all started to go downhill when atsumu, bokuto and hinata started noticing. noticing the way he’d smile at his phone, the way he’d wink, smile, tease, joke, speak, even the way his eyes wondered when left unfocused, and a dreamy look covered his vision. 

and they started to tease, and joke, and make his life all more difficult, just because “omi has a crush!”

because he didn’t. right? he didn’t have a crush on you, for sure, and it only annoyed him, how childish they were about it, how insufferable. they got on his nerves so bad that he stopped responding to all the messages, stopped smiling, joking around, and all, just to prove his point, 

his point he knew was no longer standing. 

and so atsumu would ask, after one of their practices, “hey omi, is your lucky charm picking you up? some birthday dinner, maybe?” he’d nudge his side with an elbow, raising his eyebrows. 

“i don’t know” he mumbled “and stop calling them that”. the brunette kept looking for something in his bag, just to avoid atsumu’s tiring, curious glance. 

“fine then, how about your significant other?” he continued teasing. it’s not like sakusa would hate that scenario, of course he wouldn’t, yet his mind kept spiraling - what if you came in and heard that? what if you assumed he was calling you that behind your back?

what if you didn’t feel the same?

“stop butting in my relationships for once, miya! how many times am i supposed to tell you i’m not in any way romantically involved with them? i don’t even like them that much!” he lied, straight in his best friend’s face, fed up with all the jokes and smirks behind his back, and judging from atsumu’s shocked expression, and the color running away from his face, it worked. 

“what, don’t you have anything to say to me now?” he kept going, before atsumu shook his head, and pointed behind kiyoomi’s back wordlessly. the spiker raised an eyebrow, turning around to see you, in the flash, eyes wide open, a tiny little package in your hands, wrapped so neatly in colorful paper, with a little bow tie at the top. 

even from a distance he could already half see, half imagine tears prickling your eyes before you smiled sadly, dropped the box from your hand and let it fall to the floor, and began walking out of the gym room. 

“no, no no, y/n, wait!” he started shouting out, but your ears seemed deaf to his pleas, as he ran up to the door you just walked through, leaving atsumu alone, but with a condescending smile. 

“i don’t like them that much my ass, omi-kun” he whispered to himself before walking over to grab his things. 

meanwhile sakusa ran out to the reception room of the stadium, but as it turned out, it was filled with fans waiting for them all to come out, so they could wish him happy birthday, and it seemed impossible to get through the crowd and reached you, especially considering you were already at the exit door. 

he looked around himself and noticed all the people, how many of them were there, and how close to him, and got paralyzed in place, wanting to move, or disappear, that’d be for the best, and yet he couldn’t even move one foot. 

soon enough he felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back inside, his savior apologizing to the public.

“sorry guys, we have one more thing to go through! he’ll be out shortly” atsumu laughed off, before closing the door and handing omi the gift you left. 

the spiker mindlessly opened it, only to find out a spotify code inside, put in between a glass frame. he took out his phone from the bag and scanned it with his app, gasping audiably when the page loaded. 

lay back in the arms of someone by smokie showed up on his screen, and a smile crawled up his lips before he remembered how badly he fucked this up a second ago. 

he narrowed his eyebrows before looking up to find the blond setter’s eyes. 

“atsumu” his friend’s eyes widened in surprise upon hearing his first name, instead of surname “is there a back exit from here?” 

atsumu miya smirked. 

“bet ya there is, mr i-fucked-up-big-time” he answered, theatrically offering his hand, before taking the lead. 

you on the other hand, came home peacefully, although hot tears were streaming silently down your cold cheeks as you entered the apartment’s door and looked at the calendar, showing the date of march 20th. in a sudden wave of aggression you ripped it off, knowing that there’s nothing to be so pressed about: he had no duty of feeling the same way towards you, why would you even expect it?

you went on with your day, ordering takeout for dinner, snuggling up on your couch and rewatching a series, not granting your thoughts access to yourself, and it was really going well, until you heard the doorbell ring. 

“nobody’s home” you yelled, assuming it was either atsumu or bokuto on their way to cheer you up, and they’ll probably let themselves in as soon as they hear your voice, but that didn’t happen. instead, the doorbell kept on ringing. “ugh, just come in!” 

they didn’t come in, so you lifted yourself off the couch and walked over to the door, opening it and gasping a tiny bit when instead of your dumbass friends holding McDonald’s you saw a one hundred and ninety two centimeters tall figure of a man, struggling to catch his breath, leaning on your doorframe, his black coat unbuttoned, cheeks red, eyes puffy and hair in a mess, not even gelled into place as they always are. 

“can i help you?” you asked in a cold manner, voice sending daggers into his poor, confused heart, as he finally looked up to meet your glance, an apologetic look in his eyes when he tried to form a sentence. 

“i think i can... no, way, i think i might...” he kept struggling, to which you only rolled your eyes, waiting for the continuation of that sentence. 

“spit it out, sakusa” you stated, sending shivers down his spine with how annoyed you seemed. 

yeah, spit it out, sakusa, he thought to himself before taking a breath and finally speaking up correctly:

“i think i might be in love with you.” 

your eyes widened for a second as you tried to find evidence of honesty in his expression, tone, voice, because you definitely didn’t believe his words. 

his heart dropped when you scoffed. 

“i don’t need your pity” 

that’s when it hit him:

omi doesn’t like to spend his birthday without you. you make it not only bearable, but fun. 

in fact, he never wanted to spend it without you again. and as that realization made it’s way into his brain, he caught you closing your door. 

“i respect you too much to pity you” he spat out as he placed his hand in between the door and the frame, making you unable to close it, even if you wanted to. 

and there was the honesty you looked for. 

“then why—” you started to wonder, but he shook his head before interrupting, a helpless look across his face.

to lay back in the arms of someone

“i’m afraid of... of this, okay? i’m afraid of falling in love, if this is any explanation for you. it’s like... you make me feel as if i’m on the top of the world” he laughed nervously, making you raise your eyebrows, before continuing “and it’s fucking scary to imagine falling from that high” 

you give in to the charms of someone

his glance wondered all over your face to find crumbs of understanding, scared you’d laugh his confession off, a grimace of worry replacing the insecure smile painting his lips, and he was just one step away from shouting “i’m telling the truth!” at you, but you cut him off by opening your door fully, and welcoming him inside with a warm smile on your lips, and a reassuring sentence on your tongue.

happy 23rd, kiyoomi

“i think i might love you back”

omi likes feeling loved. 

the next year flew by on both of you pushing each other’s limits, challenging each other like the both of you always needed, being there for each other, finding out how nice it feels to have someone there. it was coming home with a sore throat after a night of yelling “one more point, omi-omi!”. it was carefully intertwining your pinkies together while shopping without even realizing. it was awkward dates, because the label “date” always changes the atmosphere. it was taking weird selfies, it was having to part for out-of-town games and facetiming from hotel rooms. it was butterflies in the stomach and a ball of fluff in mind. 

it was everything. 

the first year of your official relationship flew by in no time, kiyoomi finding new joy in his birthday since now it was really a day to be remembered, marking your anniversary. 

and just as you got home to his apartment after dinner, ready to unpack all the fanmail once again, the janitor of the building stopped you. 

“sakusa-san, there was a flower delievery for you” he sighed, going towards a locked shelf and coming back with a bouquet, at which kiyoomi stared for a whole five seconds before you decided to take it. 

“thank you for taking care of it” he muttered with a slight bow, you pushing him to go up the stairs. “who’s it from?” he’d ask you a minute later, halfway through the staircase. 

“don’t you wanna check yourself?” you asked, but he frantically shook his head. 

“check it for me, please”

omi doesn’t like flowers.

you nodded wordlessly before checking a card. 

“well if i’m not mistaken this is your surname” you furrowed, struggling to read the handwriting. in your defense, the kanji for “sakusa” are quite complicated. 

he looked over at the text before admitting “yeah, that’s from my aunt, she insists on sending those ever since i got into MSBY” he finally got to his door to unlock it “kinda sad how she didn’t even bother writing a text before” he chuckled, making you want to throw the flowers away. 

you knew he considered them worthless if that’s the story behind the nice gesture. 

the apartment door remained opened, but he didn’t enter, you almost stumbled over him, focusing on the note, and glanced over to see what caught him attention and prevented him from going inside. 

“this is your surname, for a change” he stated, showing you a buffy envelope over his shoulder, but didn’t let you take it when you tried. instead he opened it himself, a neatly wrapped package inside, with a note at the top:

i wore glowes making it! i swear!

there was a typo in gloves, and the writing style could use a little work on it, but that didn’t affect kiyoomi at all, as he was hypnotized with his package after noticing your surname on it. he carefully opened it, to find a keychain, made from cubes, as the ones used in different boardgames, on every one there was a letter or a number, together forming the writing “kiyoomi 15″ with a heart at the end. it was all on a black string, and almost shined with how many times it was wiped before sending. after holding it in his hand for a while, he noticed another card at the bottom of the package, taking it out and reading out loud:

“please take care of my sibling. happy 24th!” he uttered in sheer amazement, as he grazed his fingers over the delicate ornament, before wordlessly going inside the apartment. 

you followed him, closing the door behind you, worried about his reaction about your little sibling’s present, only to find him crouching before his couch, his training bag laying there as he tried to attach the keychain to the it’s zipper, smiling when he managed to do so. 

before he got to turn around to face you, you managed to take a photo of him smiling at the newest addition to his training gear, and send it to your family with a caption:

omi likes personalized stuff. 

over all the years of knowing kiyoomi, you’ve learnt so much about him, his life, his habits, everything. you knew him inside and out, and so he knew you. you’re laughing at your confusion and fear while you were buying his first birthday gift, as you sit on the floor in your shared apartment, plotting his 25th, biggest yet gift, as if he isn’t about to walk through the door, coming back from practice. 

it’s almost ridiculous, how you struggled, wondering if he’d even like a gift, when right now you have a whole list in mind:

although omi doesn’t like gifts, he likes little thougtful gestures. he doesn’t like fancy big words, but likes real, honest wishes he can really take to heart. he doesn’t like spending his birthday without you, he likes feeling love, doesn’t like flowers, but does like his gifts personalized and touching. 

you realize all the moments in your relationship made you know his every emotion and expression, but you’ve never seen your precious boyfriend cry, ever. 

and you decide to change that. 

you’re gonna make him something that’s gonna mask all the memories of his birthday being forgotten, walked pass by, pushed into the back, and not properly celebrated. that’s gonna outshine every single gift he’s ever got. that’s gonna make him so happy, he’ll cry.

an idea pops into your head as you get a pen and start writing. 

dear kiyoomi,

_______

“dear kiyoomi” you get to hear him say a couple of nights later, he reads it out on your plea, with a smile across his lips, as you, atsumu, bokuto, meian and hinata, as well as omi’s older siblings and komori and osamu sit at the table, a cake and two traces of his favorite cupcakes are taking all the space possible.

omi’s voice is colored with a couple of glasses of wine, so it’s easier to him to relax and genuinely grin at the paper as he’s reading, all part of your plan. 

“when i first met you, the first thing i found out is that you’re a private person. not that i was freaked out or anything, but you did have, and probably you still do, a heavy aura around you that may have flustered me a tiny little— a tiny little bit? smiles, your hands literally shivered” he stopped to comment, making you roll your eyes at him.

“zip it and keep reading, birthday boy”

“... a tiny little bit, i agree. nevertheless, the first thing i actually felt, was that you striked my soul as someone weird. thanks, baby” he interrupted again, but you urged him to keep reading. “... weird in a way that made me feel like i’ve never felt before, the kind of safe and terrified at the same time. terrified of what, you might ask? well, kiyoomi, here i’d like to quote you. you once told me that me loving you is like i had the power to break you, and you loving me back was like giving me a map with all the points to strike at. well if that’s the definition of love we’re going for here, than i not only give you a map, i’ll grant you a whole GPS. the trust you put in me every day to not take advantage of what you’ve given me is inspiring, and hence, i surrender every single point of ressistance i’ve held against you, i’m yours to snap at a wish, and trusting you that you won’t do it is something i can spend my life believing in.” 

at this point kiyoomi had to stop and take a deep breath and a sip of his wine before continuing, clearing his throat a bit, chocking back his emotion. 

“... throughout my years by your side, i’ve memorized everything there is to memorize about you and gifts. you generally aren’t a fan, but you like them carrying a lot of thought, dedication, you like them meant exactly to you and to you only. you don’t want pointless blabbing and overused sentences, you enjoy sincerity. you need love radiating from them in order to truly acknowledge them as something special. now, the last thing i know is that you don’t like flowers, but i hope you won’t be too angry with me and with what i’ve prepared for you. enjoy, signed, your smiles” he finished, looking up at you, already moving towards the counter, grabbing a bouquet from behind it. 

he watched in amazement as you handed it to him, taking it in his hands, realizing that- 

it was a bouquet of origami flowers. 

“please, y/n, this is so—” he tried to find the right words, but once again, nothing came to mind as he watched your careful work from every side possible. 

“shh, there’s a special thing to them” you explained, sitting back in your seat, exactly in a straight line from him, watching every single change in his expression as he tried to find what you meant. 

he realized every flower had a little card sticking out from it’s center, and pulled the first one, the closest one to him. 

“the first reason i love you” he read in a weak voice, chuckling nervously again before he found the courage to read it out loud “you make me feel protected” 

he looked up at you with such a gentle and caring note in his eyes that you almost didn’t want to encourage him to keep reading it, but you did. 

“two. you don’t smile too much” after that he raised an eyebrow, but read the next one “three. ...but when you do, you outshine the sun itself. four. you memorized my coffee order within the first two times we’ve been to a caffee. five. you got supplies to redo my coffee order without going to the— hey i swear i didn’t mean anything bad by it!” 

“that’s literally the reason they love you for, idiot” atsumu laughed, urgining him to keep reading with a hand gesture. “come on, this is adorable”

“six. you have a playlist with songs that remind you of me. yes, i know this, omi, we share a spotify account. seven. you claim you don’t like interacting with people, but let a little girl propose to you with a cereal ring in the park.”

“this is too cute, omi is a softie” bokuto whined, hiding his face in his hands, but sakusa only slapped them off. 

“am not. eight. you keep a mental score of all the times you won over ushijima. nine. you take way too much pride in beating atsumu in service aces”

“true that!” atsumu shouted, hiding behind his glass. 

“ten” sakusa shook his head. “you don’t enjoy PDA, yet gave me the kiss of the century when i met your mother, just to annoy her. eleven. your childhood photos are too cute. twelve. you blasted hopelessly devoted to you the morning after we— i’m not reading that, idiot!” he half laughed half whined, in a high-pitched voice. 

“omi-san knows how it’s done, apparently” hinata wheezed, komori accompanying him. 

“did i ask?” he rolled his eyes and went back to picking lines from the flowers. “thirteen, you tug the corner of my sleeves when you’re stressed in public. fourteen, you have me saved in your phone as your good luck charm. fifteen. you put my head on your chest when i can’t sleep at night, to calm me down. sixteen. you make me laugh when i’m sad. seventeen. you almost never intent to make me laugh, yet always do. eighteen. you always make sure i’m carrying all the emergency items all me at all times. nineteen. you make me call you when i get home from a party, if you aren’t there to pick me up. twenty, you always insist on picking me up from wherever i am, because you’re worried about me. i mean yeah, what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i weren’t?” he genuinely asked, half of the guest shaking their heads. 

“come on, five more to go, you adorable, clueless idiot” motoya pat his back and looked over his shoulder to see your careful handwriting, before sakusa hid the message from him. 

“twenty one. you make me not worry about my future. twenty two, you try to do all your little morning rituals in advance when you leave, so i don’t miss you too much. i still do. twenty three, you’re never afraid to be bluntly honest with me. twenty four, you always ask if you can hug me when i’m low or crying. and twenty five—” he stopped more suddenly than anywhere before, eyes visibly watering before he dropped his head down and his it in his arms. 

“what’s on there?” several guys asked over themselves, as omi kept laughing slightly, hiding tears in the sleeves of his fitted shirt. 

“you’re gonna be the death of me” he murmured into the material, making everyone laugh, including you, who decided to walk over to him and hug him, resting your head on his, taking advantage of the fact that he was sitting and you could reach it. 

after a moment of weakness, he showed his red and slightly puffy face, two trails of tears fitting his smiling expression as he struggled to say 

“twenty five. you make me prouder and prouder every day.” he kept laughing through his tears, really trying to hide his emotion and failing miserably. “you really did try to make me cry on my birthday, didn’t you?” he looked up to you still embracing him. 

“i suppose i did”

“well then, i’m gonna outshine you” he said, shifting in his seat in order to get up, wiping the last remains of tears from his face. 

“what do you mean?” you asked, met with his confident smirk. 

“you’re gonna see in a bit, trust me” he huffed, dusting off his pants’ material on the knee level, and reaching over to his pocket, in his hand a tiny, little box. 

with a little more than an origami flower. 

#haikyuu sakusa #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #hq fanfic #hq prompts #hq scenarios #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #fluff #hq fluff

[buchananbarnes1991]

Unus Annus Sentence Meme Starter

“Hey buddy buddy buddy buddy!”

“Our long time colleagues are 419 hours a day deny you here!”

“Peoples dream, must first be full of blood!”

“When we arrived in my backyard, we stopped the fire.”

“We quickly eliminated the enemy, and the fight was depressing.”

“Boy am I hungry!”

“Zip zap zop!”

“I don’t know if this was your idea, but we’ll roll with it.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time like, ‘hey I’ve got an idea.’ when we told you it weeks ago.”

“With the guidance of a guardian angel, you can do anything.”

“What am I teaching you how to do?”

“You don’t need to make it! I’m making it!”

“Have you washed your hands? You should wash your hands.”

“You can have the knife when you need the knife.”

“Close the door and never go back!”

“I want you to do something for me. Take a balloon, stretch it out..nice and wide.”

“Some of us are more gifted than others.”

“Okay, so what are we doing here? What is this?”

“I think that the way that I’d kill you is..’take you by the hands. come this way. I’ve got something to show you. just something you HAVE TO SEE.’ “

“In highschool. I dated a girl...her name was, Abigail. Very smart and driven. I was a stupid boy.”

“I still hadn’t let go, but they called me to tell me. She’d let go.”

“She looked down at the ground and then looked back up me. She giggled a bit and then said ‘Oh, don’t you know? I have feelings for Troy.’ “

“When you’re a late bloomer and you spend most of your time alone in a dark room with various ‘websites’,  it turns out that feeding my entire adolescences with perverted thoughts from various unsavory sources makes a distorted impression of the act of making love.”

“After about thirty minutes of dry thrusting, I found myself incapable of completion.”

“The first time I ever had sex, I had to fake my own orgasm..just to get it over with.”

“I too was a late bloomer. I didn’t know anything about intercourse or foreplay or anything.”

“We heard the tent unzip, her thirteen year old brother came through the tent! He didn’t see us. But, we were there. He said ‘Dinner’s ready.’ Under the protection of the sleeping bag we were replied ‘OKAY!’, He exited and I-- *giggles* exited.”

“I think that’s enough therapy for one day. Remember, it’s okay to talk about embarrassing of your life.”

“You stand here..I’m gonna take my shoes off.”

“I need to climb around you.”

“Using teamwork and trust and...t-t-t....team work, you get one person from one end of the body, all the way around to the same end.”

“You think you know us, but we only show you what we want you to see.”

“Let’s get climbing.”

“I thought we were gonna watch a movie.”

“And then I PILE DRIVE YOU’RE SPINE...paralyzed for life.”

“I AM ALWAYS STABLE. Don’t even try to unstablize me.”

“Felt like an emotional burden unloaded.”

“Death comes for all of us and we’ve gotta prepare.”

“It’s a beautiful world, with a lot of caskets.”

“I’m just thinking about America...it’s not a great time to think about America.”

“Can we see some different caskets? Can you show us some metal ones, some wood ones?”

“Let’s start with the highest! And then we’ll work down to where we’re comfortable.”

“Why is Mahogany like the universally known wood? It’s used in all the movies, everyone talks about it. If they want quality, they want a Mahogany.”

“Obviously it’s a beautiful wood, but what makes Mahogany so special?”

“With Mahogany if you look at it. If you pass your eyes to the side, it changes. It goes with you.”

“You are supposed to be buried in dirt. From dust to dust.”

“I don’t want it to be too comfortable. I’d like to stay alert.”

“I don’t know, what does it mean to be afraid? I’m not afraid of death.”

“I don’t like the feel of velvet. I mean, I’ll touch it.”

“Mmh....velvet...”

“That’s the thing! Like old production stuff was built to last, FOREVER!”

“For now you can kneel.”

“They’re Nigerian dwarf goats. They’re gonna be your yoga partners today.”

“I twisted a man into a pretzel. I could do the same to you.”

“I twisted myself into a pretzel.”

“It’s so much more fun to do a plank with a goat on your back.”

“The goats come to you. The motto that we like to have it ‘trust the goats.’ “

“Oh, wait. Wait! I didn’t know we were competing.”

“When I did hot yoga. I kicked everyone’s ass.”

“There’s a lot goatin’ on.”

“You flinchy bastard.”

“Alright, there’s a goat there.”

“I always tell people that they will fire their massage therapists because goat massages are way better.”

“Yeah, it’s real firm.”

“Ow, oh god. Your tallons!”

“Oh, tight pants..tight pants!”

“Those are quitters who think that you have to have the perfect conditions to do things but if you can do things in times of adversity that’s when you know you’re really committed to a cause!”

“Anyone want kisses?”

“It’s okay to show emotions.”

“CRY LITTLE BITCH, CRY!”

“No one’s crazy enough to do it!”

“We knew this year was going to be hell.”

“Hey! Seven days..”

“There’s always still time for things to go wrong.”

“We’ll save them for the future.”

“No, there’s no future.”

“I hope I die in a hilarious way. I hope my death can be told as a joke, like it’s so funny how I died. People can get one last joy. One last laugh.”

“I’m not afraid of death, but I am afraid of dying.”

“Okay, we only have our sixth sense to see with. Okay? Much like Bruce Willis in the show Sixth Sense, spoiler, I know it’s new. He sees dead eggs everywhere.”

“You can do it with dominoes too, but be careful with that one cause once to get a hundred or more dominoes and you spill ‘em all over, it’s gonna take all afternoon to set ‘em back up.”

“So you better fucking see with your brain or else you won’t be able to have a good time.”

“Ouch ouch ouch! That’s not an egg.”

“I think you need to go a little slower.”

“Oh...Puppies!”

“Should we turn on the emergency camper light?”

“I’m just such a neat freak.” “You know we need to try and escape.”

“What a profound man, that shot out the load that is Tony Stark.”

“This is a literal don’t show it. Oh god, all of his nudes are right there!”

“Gone gone, forever.”

“Two idiots cause ten care pile up from buttplug dropedge.” 

“Hook car batteries up to my nipples? I’ll say yes every time!” 

“I’m not a masochist. I’m really not. I’m glad I have this uninterrupted moment to talk about this. I’m not a masochist. I’m just curious.” 

“I’ve never been hit by a car, outside of my car? What’s that like? I DON’T KNOW!” 

“Sometimes, I am an idiot and..I match your intelligence level. THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!”

“We’ve been edging father time for a year.”

“Recognize my face, thank you.”

 “Oh it was terrible. You didn’t tell me about all the bears along the way.”

“Nice camel toe.

“Do you want me to get nurse Tracy?”

“When we tried to crush those melons, SHE TOOK TWO!”

“I was thinking the other night, what if the next melon is [insert muses’s name here] skull?”

“I just like doing what I’m told.”

“A man of few words, a man of action.”

“Are our faces being used as Capchas’ now?”

“Thank you god, thats’s a good idea.”

“God said we could!”

“Doesn’t matter what you do, to keep it from ending. Once it ends. It’s gone forever.”

“I don’t know you but you’re here, a lot. I guess you’re fine.”

“I couldn’t get it off, I felt like I was gonna rip your skin off.”

“YOU WERE GONNA RIP MY SKIN OFF.”

“We got all this time that we can relax! We’ve got like a week to relax...”

“Neither of us have ever been pepper sprayed. Let’s get pepper sprayed!”

“It’s burning as if there’s some hot oil.. on my eyes.”

“My eyes are okay now.”

“This fucking sucks so bad.”

“I would not recommend getting pepper sprayed.”

“When I was a young lad. All I had was my imagination and the woodland creatures.”

“You shot me twice! I get to shoot you with a paintball at some point in the future.”

“There is no easy!”

“Math wasn’t my strong suit, nor was anything.”

“He’s an idiot but he can read well.”

“Look at me in the eyes boy, you’ll never be stronger than me.”

“How do you have time for anything, do you not sleep?”

“Your shirt needs to be off.”

“I think you just want me to take my shirt off.”

“Ugh...I’m fine.”

“I need gloves, I need gloves, hang on, I gotta get gloves!”

“I don’t wanna do anything with drainage.”

“What bone would you say hurts?”

“That’s what the picture said to do, breast feed your patient.”

“Your bed’s not very comfortable.”

“THE GONGOOZLER!”

“It not over, it’s close.”

“In six hours, we’re done.”

“It’s hard to say goodbye, but it’s important.”

“Beautiful, a sailor’s dream to come across the mermer.”

“DELETE ME!! CUT ME OUTTA HERE!!”

“I’m being an asshole now.”

“It’s not hope, it’s delusion.”

“You can’t speed your way into heaven!”

“Have you ever looked at your tongue too long in the mirror and it no longer looks like it belongs to you?”

“Biology is just a constant nightmare.”

#Unus Annus #Sentence Starter

[asleepinawell]

hiii not sure if it’s okay to ask a poi question but here it goes - i recall seeing you expressing (at least some level of) discontent with what Harold has done on the show (to root, to shaw and all those hypocritical decisions throughout). would you like to share more about your thoughts on this character? tks

always okay to ask poi questions. since the fandom is pretty small these days i was going to put my answer under a read more line so people could ignore it more easily if it’s a subject that bothers them but apparently you can’t add read more lines in ask answers? thanks tumblr! so if this is a topic that annoys anyone, please, just skip it. also, while some of this is facts or based on facts a lot of stuff is obviously my opinion and therefore not canon and not the only opinion etc etc.

in general, i wasn’t crazy about the way harold treated any of the other characters (with the exception of john who he had a pretty great relationship with). for root, there was the refusal to call her root, which i found very gross and uncomfortable (like, in general you should respect what people ask to be called, but also it was linked to the traumatic death of her childhood friend and he absolutely knew that so fuck that shit). he even said something along the lines of 'john reese is what you prefer to be called' to john right in the first episode? he was okay with using reese's fake name, but not hers because he made her identity into a power game.

he also tended to be..hmm, patronizing is the wrong word (and lbr root was extremely patronizing to everyone) but more that he treated her like ‘rehabilitating’ her was his pet project or something. i mean one thing that always struck me was his ‘what happened to you’ line in bad code and then the subsequent decision to put her in a mental institution instead of, you know, jail, which is where every other perp they ran into tended to go. he saw her as broken and flawed and in need of his help which, to me, came off as hypocritical and belittling.

also, putting someone in a psychiatric institution where they get pumped full of drugs when they don’t need to be? really fucked up! even if you argue root needed therapy/was depressed whatever, that’s not what they were treating her for. they were treating her for ‘delusions’ and ‘hearing voices’ which were...real things. like, the machine was speaking to her. harold knew that. he let her get put on all sorts of medication and put in solitary confinement and oh yes also her doctor was a really fucked up dude, something harold could easily have dug up if he’d bothered. also the whole ‘killing off a woman to advance a man’s character development thing’ is, uh, a bad trope. to put it mildly. i could write a lot more about his shit with root but let’s move on.

in some ways, his attitude towards shaw bothers me most. he consistently treats her like she’s violent and unhinged because she has aspd and despite the large amount of evidence to the contrary. she is, in fact, the most cool and controlled member of the team (not counting carter) and the least likely to go off half-cocked. shaw does play into this, but mostly only with harold and only through her words, not her actions. she knows what he thinks of her. when she’s captured by samaritan, harold gives up on her very quickly in a way he would never have done for john (and probably not for root either at that point). shaw’s reaction to sim!harold in 6741 of ‘did you even look for me’ says a lot about what she thinks he thinks of her. his whole ‘binary moral compass’ line to her is also, uh, heavily projecting. shaw and carter had the strongest moral compasses of the group. by a long shot. 

moving on to the machine. so first and foremost, if you’re creating a sentient being, whether that’s having a kid or making a self-aware AI, you don’t create something with the intention of locking it up and ignoring it forever. (and he was creating her for the bush/cheney administration???? who TM pointed out was terrible if he somehow had managed to miss that. root called them something like the worst people imaginable and she wasn’t exaggerating). was it too dangerous to let TM be free from the get go? maybe! but then don’t fucking make an AI you think can destroy the world, buddy. there are a lot of reasons he made TM and none of them make this acceptable to me. once TM had clearly proven to be not a threat and trying to help he continued to ignore her and act like she was dangerous.

harold always needed very badly to feel like he had the moral high ground and not be the person who made a bad decision, which yes, is probably partly due to the trauma from what happened to nathan but that doesn’t make it okay when being paralyzed by being unable to make a decision got people killed. more than once! also, most of his morals got tossed out when they weren’t convenient. wouldn’t kill the senator to save the world because killing is bad! next episode he’s like if anything happens to grace kill all of them. cool story, still murder.

i wanna conclude this rant by talking about harold as a character vs harold as a person. meaning, harold as a fictional character who is used as a narrative device in a story as opposed to harold himself without the context of him being fictional. i don’t mind characters who say and do things i dislike. it’s very important to have characters you dislike as people imo. feels like an understatement. but lambet, for example, is a slimy asshole. the story is aware of this. he gets an ending a slimy asshole deserves. harold has a lot of flaws, and causes a lot of damage, gets his friends killed, and his stubborn refusal to budge on his arbitrary moral high ground lets samaritan take over and almost makes team machine lose. he gets a happy ending. with the woman he lied to (and caused a lot of pain and grief by lying to). root ends up dead, shaw gets tortured and fights her way back for root only to have her die which is kind of handwaved as ‘well she has tm with root’s voice good enough’, and john, after having rediscovered his will to live and have a life in the end of s4 goes right back to his whole dying for someone else thing. only harold gets the happy ending.

the show was actually pretty good at highlighting harold’s flaws and making them interesting, and then it kind of forgot that at the end in terms of story outcome. like, if harold had suffered enough to get a happy ending, then why didn’t anyone else get one? so my annoyance was with the narrative’s failure to satisfactorily conclude the characters’ arcs. (and for the record, i’m not one of the people who think he should have died. i don’t think it would have served a point. also death doesn’t equal redemption to me).

so, yeah, not a fan of him. don’t write him in my fics since my dislike would take time and focus away from writing about the people i do like. would probably be less bitter if they’d ended the show better. i was 300k words fic level of bitter. there was some post i saw going around recently about how if your found family show doesn’t end up with your found family together then you’ve kind of missed the whole point of found family and yeah, that.

#mp #asks #poi meta #don't send me hate messages or comments about this #i will just block you without responding #too tired for fandom discourse #i said at the beginning don't read if it'll bug you #so if you did anyway #that's on you #Anonymous

[laufire]

RNM 3x04

Although I’m enjoying the season so far, I gotta say, the episodes feel super disconnected, this one most of all. I blame the fact that Liz (THE LEAD) and Rosa still aren’t participating in the main fucking plot :)))

I’m still extremely wary of Rosa’s storyline. I think it makes sense for the character, and that *for now* they’re keeping it in line with it being more about Rosa proyecting/exorcising her issues than about Wyatt Long’s manpain, but. I’m eyeing it. And I really want her to be more involved in the main plot/do more stuff. Now that Kyle is in peril and Long is leaving town (which made me wonder whether he’ll become a suspect, actually), I hope that’s where she’s headed. I loved her art (it always has so much personality in it, I love how they do it) and her quote about people changing and becoming who they want to be.

I feel that with this storyline I’m doing a reverse of my usual “things I roll with in fiction but wouldn’t stand for irl” LOL. Because if I was in Rosa’s shoes I WOULD try to deradicalize someone like Long -and there’s no shortage of people like Long in my hometown, so I’m not just talking out of my ass here-, less for him and more as harm reduction and for my own morals. But this could derail Rosa’s storyline in really annoying ways. And I REALLY don’t trust this show’s track record with race. On top of that, a lot of the discourse around redemption arcs~ conveniently omits the fact that only white male characters are pressumed to get them after they commit horrible acts. Why can’t Flint, a MoC, be the one to get a redemption arc instead, for example? It could’ve been painfully easy to switch their storylines, and it could’ve been interesting since Rosa actually disliked him in high school. But the show suddenly decided to care for Long’s inner life. Because white characters (and people) are afforded more complexity by others, more good faith.

I’m not TOO worried about Kyle because it feels too early in the season to fully close that plot. But if they killed him I don’t know that I could continue with the show. I adore Rosa, but her storyline isn’t grabbing me; and I dig Michael’s family drama with Nora and the dictator, but they’re not as ~dear to me. Kyle this season was the one reuniting it all. And they can’t kill him before we figure out everything with the communicator and his father!! C’mon. Anyway. I did love him this episode, helping out; and his scenes with Michael (my rareship is sailing! xDD) were great, from their bitchiness with the radio to their perspectives during their argument. The moment Michael pushes him to take cover and then removes Kyle’s hand from his shoulder asldkfjaf. This fandom is weak for not writing me multiple pages of this rareship, js.

Speaking of rareships sailing LOL, I can’t believe after my joke post about Bert x Kyle I got a mini scene asdlfjasdf, where Bert talks to Kyle and pays a compliment to his mother. I’ve also said since then that I wanted more Bert in the show, but frankly, I wish it was for more alien/conspiracy/fun stuff (like his artisanal beer or his werewolf obsession! or get into the main alien plot!), and not an Issue Storyline that I don’t even trust the show to handle properly.

Maria and Isobel’s vision quest was fun, although I resent the fact that the Liz we saw for half the episode was a fake (seriously, BRING HER TO THE DAMN MAIN PLOT ALREADY). I don’t care much for the two of them bonding, tbh, but if it’s what Maria wants, so be it. And her moments with Kyle this season have made me more lenient towards Isobel, at least. I’m also curious about some of the elements in the quest: the first things Maria sees are Michael sitting in her bar and Rosa painting her table <33. Bert is around being attacked by racists. I also dig that either/both of them pictured Kyle in his doctor getup (with the radio).

Wrt the vision itself, I’m still on denial about the dead being Kyle lol. I’ve heard all the theories: fake death to hide the aliens (I hope that can get solved because if Kyle couldn’t for some reason continue his career in medice it would CRUSH him), and his mother (please don’t) seem the most likely options after this episode. Others are Sanders (for the hints in last week’s) or even Arturo (for Rosa and Liz’s reactions, although obviously the “Valenti” crest wouldn’t make sense there). I also don’t see how it makes sense to cover Kyle’s death if Logan killed him? Unless Max tries to heal him and leaves a handprint. Anyway, I hope none of the above die and it can be resolved. And BTW: the SPN war flashbacks I’ve witnessed in the tags with the “killing” method are. Something. I think RNM still kept the scene dramatic and the audience concerned, but man. The risk of that reference... I don’t know that it was worth it lol.

BRING LIZ TO THE MAIN STORYLINE FFS. I like what we see of her on LA in abstract, but in practice... she’s the lead ffs. One episode where she’s out and having a nice time dancing (those scenes were lovely, admittedly) like this one can be great, but after three episodes where she’s been so removed of it all? Nuh huh. Given recent events (Kyle’s attack, the handprint on her chest reacting, her resignation) I hope it changes soon. And I hope Heath can be taken at face value, because I don’t trust this show’s track record with MoC that could inconvenience its storylines (see Noah and Diego, or even Flint). Also, I LOLED at her dream in the beginning, with her imagining Max apologizing to her and expressing her own concerns about getting lost in their relationship lmfao (as if that would ever cross his mind xD).

His scenes with Kyle seem designed to get Michael out of his funk wrt his heritage, and I appreciate it (especially if it’s THIS, and not the useless or even counterproductive pep talks of anyone else Michael cares more about that does the trick lol). I’m still eagerly awaiting for development on this front. Related to that, I’ve seen the theories about Jones being his father, but. Eh. It’s not that I don’t see how it could be possible (he’s incredibly powerful and can make fire), but. To put it bluntly? I don’t think the actor can pull off what I want from the Dictator. I want someone charismatic, and preferably visibly older than Michael that actually looks like his father. Jones would be a terrible miscast on both accounts. If they bring someone else JUST for Michael it could also be a sign of him really taking over the storyline (which I’m still iffy about because of my other faves, but it’s an interesting way to see where the show is headed).

I feel they could have taken Jones to more interesting places but there’s still time. The good news is that he shaved his godawful beard AND saved a dog’s life lol. Also, am I the only one that thought he might’ve known Noah, when he grabbed his and Isobel’s picture? I’m curious about that.

#roswell: new mexico #roswell thoughts #rosa ortecho #wyatt long #flint manes #kyle valenti #guerenti #rnm bert #bert x kyle #maria deluca #isobel evans #liz ortecho #michael guerin #the dictator #mr. jones #my thoughts #talking to the void #roswell spoilers #rnm spoilers

[shima-draws]

maam you cant just say that you have a FAKE DATING AU and not tell us abt it spill

UWU

So I never thought I’d write anything Amourshipping in my entire life because I’m sure most of you know exactly how I feel about them but that’s what I’m doing for this LMAO

Anyway it takes place a couple years after the end of SM, Ash is around 18-19 and has made a big name for himself competing in tournaments and Pokemon Leagues. Gladion and Lillie are back in Alola with Mohn, and Gladion does research on Ultra Beasts with him while maintaining a position at the Battle Tree and competing in the Alola League every year. Serena is the current reigning Kalos Queen and spends her time doing showcases and performing for large audiences.

The AU starts when Serena calls up Ash and asks him if he’s willing to fake date her. For the sake of publicity and also because her manager is getting on her ass about dating some guy who’s a professional in PR videos (also for publicity and to promote her image)—this guy has also taken an interest in Serena and doesn’t know what the word no means, so the whole thing has made her super uncomfortable. Serena figures since Ash is her friend, she knows him well enough to be comfy with fake dating him and because Ash has a great reputation that won’t scar her public image (not that she cares much about that anyway!) it would be the best thing to do to get her manager and the PR asshole off her back.

Note that at this point Serena is well over Ash lol and tells him as such—basically water under the bridge now, especially because Serena has a crush on Shauna instead (but was too afraid to ask her to fake date because she didn’t want to mess things up with a potential romantic relationship—with Ash it’s a no strings attached sort of deal). It’ll probably be a little awkward but out of all the people who could do it Ash is clearly the best option.

Ash is very hesitant about it since he’s not really a fan of lying to people, but eventually relents because Serena really needs help. They agree to go through with it long enough for the opposing parties to back off, and decide they’ll have a fake breakup once Serena feels safe enough to be single again. Obviously this is a terrible idea but both of them are idiots and didn’t think things through LMAO

The only real issue is that Ash is scheduled to stay in Alola for a few weeks, part of a routine he does yearly where he rotates around all the regions he’s visited to catch up with old friends and get some training in. Serena’s like oh no problem I’ll just come to Alola with you and we can show off there! Do some hand holding and cheek smooches in front of the cameras and we’ll be golden. So Ash flies out to Kalos first so he and Serena can break the news of their “relationship” to the public.

Back in Alola, Lillie and Mallow end up breaking the news to Gladion, who subsequently has a meltdown (tho he will deny that he did) and gets really depressed and hurt by the situation, because lately he and Ash have been growing closer and he actually planned on confessing his feelings when Ash came to visit. Welp. Clearly that’s not going to happen now, and as soon as Ash and Serena arrive Gladion literally BOLTS because he’s gay panicking and can’t bear the thought of seeing Ash with somebody else.

Lillie keeps making excuses as to why Gladion’s avoiding Ash, Ash and Serena continue to parade around in front of the cameras and do silly shit that makes the paparazzi go nuts, Gladion falls further into despair and Lillie gets fed up with his angsty emo bullshit fnnsndnsn

Eventually the rest of the Alola crew start to catch on that hey maybe this is...not real? A publicity stunt? They have no idea why Ash or Serena would stoop to doing something like that but they try to convince Gladion that hey maybe you’ve still got a shot. This could all just be a huge ruse and they’re not actually into each other. With enough goading Gladion is eventually convinced to go hash things out with Ash and figure out what the hell is going on, but he witnesses them kissing alone in the woods and realizes that no, it’s genuine, and he’s an idiot for hoping otherwise. Ofc Gladion’s a dumbass and didn’t realize that Ash and Serena were being tailed, so they kissed to put on a show.

Gladion eventually puts his foot down and says you know what I can’t do this anymore I’m leaving. And Lillie’s like. What? You’re just running away from your feelings? And Gladion’s like that’s exactly what I’m doing—I mean no I want to travel and visit all the other regions and. Do research. See if the Ultra Beasts were ever involved anywhere outside of Alola. And Lillie’s like that’s a great excuse but you’re just being a coward about it and Gladion’s like well there’s nothing you can do about it ;) and generally acts like a stubborn jackass LMAO

Then Lillie is the one to put her foot down and decides if Gladion’s too chicken to confess his feelings she’ll fucking do it for him! God she has to do everything for this family jfc. She corners Ash and demands the truth, who easily lets up about the fake dating thing, and Lillie tells him Ash Ketchum if you don’t get your ass down to the marina right now you’ll probably never see Gladion again. So leave right now. Kiss him. And tell him you’ve been in love with him since you battled him on the beach all those years ago.

AND ASH DOES EXACTLY THAT and he and Serena “break up” and he gets together with Gladion and she gets with Shauna and it’s a happy ending for everyone THE END

#The ending was a little rushed but you get my point. LMAO #Pokemon #Pokeani #Long post #Trustedpartnershipping #Ash Ketchum #Serena #Gladion #Lillie #Satoshi #SatoGlad #Pokemon SM #Fake Dating AU #Shima’s AUs #Shima answers questions

[jarofstyles]

Fan Club II

A/N: Let the tension begin to build 😈This part is a little shorter than the others but it’s a necessary step - n + d

send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: angst, anxiety attack, and tender moments

word count: 3.5k

Harry was confused on all levels. Y/N was in his brain like a damn worm and didn’t seem to ever be coming out of it. That was the most frustrating part. It had been about a week, his second bakery visit being short and sweet with another hug and asking for 2 more lemon squares, but he had been a bit bland with texting back. He was trying to distance himself. Not fall for the good girl next door act. 

“Harry, please at least make this believable tonight. I’ve seen a few tweets talking about you going to the bakery so someone must have been a fan in there, so make sure tonight you’re a gentleman to her. People are watching.” Jeff Warned. It wasn’t like Harry sat around and complained about her. He barely said a word. He did tell Jeff he didn’t trust her, but he had restricted any social media usage because he knew the moment he found Y/N’s pages he would stalk her for a while. He would need to make sure it didn’t happen. 

They were sharing a car to the restaurant, and everyone knew the secret so when they pulled up to Y/N’s place, Harry felt a little more relaxed. Jeff would take over until showtime at the restaurant. There would be paparazzi by the time they left, but going in would be far easier.

Y/N was nervous to say the least. This would be her first time being photographed officially with Harry, holding hands and everything. It was a big deal and she wanted to look nice. She had done her whole routine, showering and smelling nice, doing a light makeup that she saw all his past girlfriends do, and changed into her outfit. She felt sexy but still fashionable, definitely not too expensive. Just the right amount of everything. 

When she got the text saying the car was there, she knew it was game time. Y/N made sure to bring her keys, her phone, and wallet, putting it all in a small fashionable blue over the shoulder bag before walking to the elevator and making her way out to the car. 

“Hey.” Y/N smiled as she opened the door, climbing into the car and buckling up. God he looked delicious. His hair was all floppy, his outfit matching hers in a strange way. The two of them together looked good, she couldn’t lie. “You look nice.” She said once again, but she really did mean it. “Smell nice too.”

They both sat in the back seat, Jeff and his wife in the front. Harry smiled lightly and nodded. “Uh, thanks. You too.” He went back to his phone. Honestly, if he didn’t? He would have died. Honest to god died. Her tits looked immaculate. Harry hadn’t seen them like this before but he was nearly choking on the way he wanted to bury his face between them. The first he had dated weren’t really all that big in that department— nothing wrong with that. But she had the perfect amount. Perfect handfuls. Something he was positive would be lovely to suck on. Fuck— fucking hell. 

He had to look at his phone or he would get hard. Y/N smelled good too. Like coconuts, vanilla. He wasn’t sure if that was a perfume or a bakery thing but he enjoyed it thoroughly. They kind of matched, too. which was weird. They hadn’t discussed it. 

Y/N sighed a little, not really knowing what she was expecting considering they were in private. She would rather spend no time with him in private if this was the case. She went all out to look nice for him to just say, ‘you too’? God this would be hard. 

“Hi Jeff, hi Glenne, it’s nice to meet you.” Y/N spoke sweetly, “I’d give you a hug, but you know.” She chuckled and sat back, trying to ignore the fact that Harry was ignoring her. What a terrible fake boyfriend he was, really wasn’t into the whole method acting thing. 

“Hey!” Jeff greeted. “Are you ready for the first pap run?”

“You sound so cheery about it.” Y/N laughed, “I guess I’m ready.” She shrugged and pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I reckon dinner will be fun, bit more excited about that. Get to chat with you all a little more.” It was the honest truth. She wanted to spend some quality time with Harry and with Jeff and his wife. If she was going to spend a full year knowing them? Hell, she wanted to make the most of it. She didn’t just want to fake being friends with them.

Was she serious? Harry thought. Come on. That wasn’t real. There was no way she actually thought they would buy that excuse. She didn’t give a fuck. No way. But of course— both of them bought into it. It was like Harry was the only one who could see that this was sketchy. That it wasn’t what was right. She was too sweet for her own good and that alone had Harry very, very suspicious. He listened to them chatter and took glances at her every so often. This would be torture for him. The whole thing. He was so physically attracted to her that he was worried that it may show when they weren't supposed to be acting. Y/N seemed to get along with them great. It was another thing that made him want to pull his hair out. She had to be bad in some way. No one was genuinely this nice and sweet without having a bad side. Gorgeous or not.

Jeff and Glenne were genuinely nice people, and Y/N was thankful that at least they were being open. Then again, Jeff was Harry’s best friend, then surely there was just something wrong with her. It had been a few days since they met and Harry wasn’t letting up no matter what she did. It would be a slow burn she assumed. She looked over at him, catching him already looking at her with a small smile. Y/N turned her attention back to the front of the car, watching as Jeff pulled up to the restaurant. 

It was go time. Y/N walked out of the car after Harry, moving her hand to hold on to his bicep as they walked towards the restaurant. She didn’t really have a method to her acting, she simply did whatever felt natural. Let herself go whenever they were out in public.

Harry placed his hand over hers and squeezed. He could tell she was nervous, and regardless he didn’t want her to be nervous here and feel upset. Especially when they’d be looked at and photographed. 

When they walked into the place, he looped an arm around her waist and let her lean into him. He felt a small hand on his jacket lapel and let her play with it as Jeff took care of the reservation arrangements. They’d been sat outside at a nice place with those bulb string lights, lots of plants. They’d be sat facing people so photos could be taken— but the people wouldn’t know that. He’d have to keep a good face this whole time. It was going to be a new challenge but part of him was giddy to be able to play it up and touch her during this time.

Y/N’s nerves weren’t really that noticeable, but to anyone else it would just seem like she was nervous because she was on a date with Harry. It was a normal reason to be nervous and frankly, she felt it made her seem more relatable. Despite the fact that Harry and Y/N were acting, they seemed to flow quite naturally and easily off of one another. It didn’t take a lot of effort, she just leaned into him whenever he touched her and vice versa.

“Ooo this is nice.” Y/N commented on the look of the place. She had obviously never been here before, but it looked like it would be good. The smell coming from the kitchen was incredible as well. “Thank you again for inviting us out..” Y/N said to Jeff, purposefully saying us instead of me so anyone who heard knew they meant Y/N and Harry as a pair. She scooted her chair a little closer to Harry, making sure there was enough space for them to have subtle touches if need be. Y/N wasn’t sure what Harry would want, but she wanted to have their options open and ready. She had never seen him actually interact with a woman like this except for when he was with Kendall and those photos leaked. She wondered how he would act when he meant for people to see.

Harry felt the pressure but also knew he was lucky Jeff was here to keep the conversation going. He was feeling a little awkward but fell into his conversation relatively easily. 

“So the bakery... Harry said it’s lovely. That the lemon squares are amazing.” Glenne broke the ice, opening up her menu. It was a midrange pricing so he was hoping that she wouldn’t freak too bad. Money really wasn’t an object to Harry. Granted, most of his clothes were gifted to him and he didn’t pay for much luxury items because they were sent for promotion, but he didn’t mind spending if it was for a good time. He had millions. 

“They are very good. I like them a lot. All of the things are great, though.” Harry complimented sincerely but she wouldn’t know that. His arm hung over the back of her chair, subtly showing ownership. that’s what it would come across as anyways. Most people wouldn’t know this about Harry but he was possessive, jealous, and pathetic when it came to his lovers. He didn’t like sharing. He loved being alone with them and being in their own worlds. He hadn’t had a perfect fantasy of that yet but he figured he may as well get out his affectionate wants when it was supposed to be shown. Pass it off as acting.

Y/N smiled brightly when her bakery was mentioned, her pride and joy. She was just about to speak when he complimented her baking even more. That was cute. Too bad it was all acting. She needed to get out of that mind frame though and really sink into the character. She’d deal with her emotions at a later time. 

“That’s sweet, thank you.” Y/N smiled over at him, setting her hand on his thigh and rubbing her thumb against the fabric of his pants. “But yeah, my sister opened it up 5 years ago and I co-own. We have a solid flow of customers. It’s really fun, we’ve been saving to get it refurbished.” Y/N explained, also looking down at the menu. She quickly decided on the grilled miso salmon and carried on speaking. “I want to buy the upstairs bit as well. Want to open it up to local musicians to have gigs there and stuff. Also possibly wanted to do a kids baking class. Lots of ideas.” Y/N smiled, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. She was really ambitious and career driven, always wanting to improve. It was something she took pride in and hopefully Harry would come to admire about her.

Harry was impressed. She had ideas and they didn’t seem to involve being famous, so to speak. She seemed to want her bakery to do well but anyone who had a business desires it to thrive.

“That’s a lovely idea, pet.” His hand took purchase on her shoulder then. It was bare, jacket off so he ran his thumb over the softness of her skin there. Absolutely delicious. Y/N had to know that she was fucking gorgeous. That she had inspired many a man’s fantasies. He could see down her shirt slightly and had to adjust slightly, knowing he would get a stiffy if he continued. Harry was watching for any telltale signs she was lying but from what he could tell, she really did want to do that to her bakery. And that was pretty admirable. 

It took a second for Y/N to relax into Harry’s touch, not having expected it. The feeling of his rough calloused fingers caused butterflies to erupt in her tummy. She could only imagine how good they would feel on her clit— fuck she had to stop. 

“Lots of musicians in the town would thrive off of it. A little bit of exposure and a place to play goes miles for people who aren’t very hopeful.” Jeff confirmed. “You’ll have to ask Harry for opinions when you do that. He’s good at that stuff— the stage design.”

Y/N hummed in response, “I’m sure Harry could come up with some brilliant ideas, always does.” She complimented, sending him a small wink just to keep the ball rolling. It was nice to be able to flirt and know that it was meant to be reciprocated. Maybe this whole acting thing wouldn’t be too bad? She could just live out her fantasies like this. 

The waiter came and brought over a bottle of wine for the table and took all of their orders. Though the restaurant was mid range, she still had a feeling that this was a place posh people went. She’d have to get used to that as well. Y/N felt too normal for places like this, but then again, Jeff was really good at making her feel comfortable.

To Harry, the dinner was weird. Not in a bad way. But he had found that their chairs had gotten closer during the meal. They’d touched each other a bit— not sexually. Or trying to be sexual, he should say. He had been living out part of a mental fantasy, letting her hold his hand and play with his rings when they waited for the food to come. Y/N hadn’t gone for the most expensive thing— rather a cheaper item and he had tried coaxing her into getting something a bit more, but she said no. It was weird that she was acting like money didn’t motivate her. Isn’t that why she took the damn job? But they’d been touching subtly and talking, Harry smiling down at her pretty little face. He had an urge to kiss her too— which had scared the fuck out of him. He wanted to swoop in and taste her gloss before it went away but he couldn’t. When they finished though, Harry looked at her and began to talk. 

“Listen— May get intense, yeah? Lots of cameras flashing. Just hold on to my hand and don’t let go.” He was serious. There were a lot of cameras and a lot of flashes and he didn’t want her to freak.

This part did make Y/N nervous. The cameras. She had seen pap videos previously and they always made her uncomfortable to watch. It was scary having people say things to you whilst bright cameras were flashing. 

“Okay, I trust you.” Y/N told him in a soft voice, giving him a small smile that really was only meant for him. Part of her didn’t want this night to be over, she wanted to hang out with him some more and chat with him. It was her day off tomorrow so she didn’t mind staying up late and going home if that’s what he wanted. She doubted he would want her to stay the night.

Harry held her hand and as soon as they stepped out, the cameras flashed like crazy. Asking Harry to look at them, to say who his girl was. Who she was. How old she was, what’s her name. Were they dating? But Harry got irritated when he felt her move behind him, seeing someone had pushed her slightly and she had stumbled. He stopped in the middle, gently grabbing her hip and pulling her to walk with him. 

“Be careful, mate.” Harry said to the pap, brows furrowed. “Alright, love?” Y/N looked flustered, but nodded. So he continued on, lifting her by her waist and putting her in the car before climbing in behind her. Genuine concern took over when he saw her breathing heavier, face knitted in concern as he gently pulled her over and let her hide her face in his neck. His glare was actually visible to the outside where people took photos through the windows before Jeff sped off. “Hey.. Y/N? You okay?” Harry spoke, pulling her back.

The experience was something Y/N couldn’t explain. As a person who had mild anxiety, she thought that she could handle a situation like that but it was intense in a way that she truly didn’t know what to explain to anyone. You really just had to experience it to know. When she was pushed it really sent her into a small panic, trying her best to hide her face a little now that she’d felt what paps could really be like. Harry came through though and genuinely helped her. She was so thankful for him and for him sticking up for her as well. It meant a lot. It went by so quickly she could barely process it, a bit shaky and out of breath. Going off instinct she nuzzled her face into Harry’s neck, taking deep breaths to calm herself down and relax. It was over, she had jumped the first hurdle and things would get easier from there. At least that’s what she told herself. 

“Y—yeah, I’m okay... that was just.. a lot.” Y/N told him in a soft voice, still close to him but she wasn’t sure if that was okay. Y/N decided that it would be more hurtful if he moved her off than if she moved herself, but she really couldn’t do that right now. “I’ll be okay, just need a second..”

“It’s okay.” Harry rubbed her back a few times. He wasn’t a complete asshole. She was obviously shaken and he couldn’t even blame her. He wasn’t sure why so many had popped up— he was positive they’d only called for 3 but, that’s a later question. “You’re alright? Yeah? Shit’s scary sometimes but you made it through.” He didn’t know why he slightly melted but seeing her in genuine fear and feeling her shake slightly against his body made his urge to protect her come right to the front. “Jeff, drive around for a bit, yeah? Pop into Waitrose and get her a drink.” He could tell that she was going to be okay but needed a little coddling. He continued to rub her back and let her hide in his neck. Her breath was hot against his neck, and he felt her start to calm down.When Jeff came back, Harry gave her the drink and gently peeled her away, letting her stay seated close to him. “Slow sips. Just relax. You did great.”

Y/N kept herself nuzzled into the crook of his neck while she waited, finding that to be the safest place on earth. She relaxed just by taking in his scent and feeling his heart beat through the pressure point that beat against where her nose was. That combined with his hand on her back was doing the trick. This wasn’t acting and she knew it wasn’t. It gave her hope that he wasn’t in fact a shit person, he was concerned and cared enough to ask Jeff to drive around some more and get her a drink. She really did appreciate it and him. 

“Thank you.” Y/N said quietly, taking the bottle into her still slightly shaky hands and took a small sip before taking another slow one. Y/N did do great, she knew she did. She had seen enough pap videos to know how to elegantly carry herself, but there were way too many paps there. She’d never seen that many. Maybe people were just that excited to see Harry have a girlfriend.

Harry knew later on he wouldn’t regret being kind to her right now. She was genuinely terrified and he didn’t want that for anyone. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she didn’t want fame, but that didn’t mean he could trust her. Maybe he could be nicer. But he had to keep a distance because his cock was not on board with that. It wanted to bury itself in her plump little ass. But whatever— he could use that visual later. 

“You’re alright, Y/N.” Harry watched her carefully. “Didn’t know that many were going to be out there but, don’t worry. We’ll make sure we do our very best so that doesn’t happen again.” She wouldn’t get away from paps— but having 20 flashing cameras blinding her and pushing? That wouldn’t ever happen again. He was willing to risk his career on that. No human decency. 

“Now, let's get you home.”

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

[part 3]

A/N: H is soft, he cracks under pressure 🤧- n + d

let us know what you think! 

masterlist

#writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry writing #jarofstyles

[americachavez]

ok so, i'm one of those fake fans – never watched a single episode of spn but was deep into destiel until i lost interest because of the terribly toxic way the writers treated the fandom – so you know what, i have hope, lets – for the first time ever – watch an spn episode and lets make it the finale right? and i'm just.. is every episode like this? extremely badly structured? plot hole galore? bad acting unless someone is dying??? like, the tonality was fucking bonkers. is that what it's like??

uh whew you really should have come to kiran auntie first before making that call because there’s no way I’d have let you watch that as your very first supernatural episode, regardless of quality. and ok I have not seen every single episode of the cw’s supernatural but I think I can definitively say that episode 19 and 20 of season 15 were the two worst episodes they’ve ever done

and look. look. I am not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you this is quality television. from day one (ESPECIALLY day one whoof) it had corny dialogue, messy plots, and mediocre to bad acting. it was a GENRE TV SHOW on the WB NETWORK in 2005, that was a given. besides that, it has been misogynistic and racist and homophobic and was very much still a relic of the bush administration era of television for a long long time. the fandom was also just as bad lol no one really covered themselves in glory in the 2000s, which was an incredibly cursed decade where gay was a normal insult to use for everything bad. however. it was very fun genre tv, with some really delightful writing at times and is pretty unique for what it was. they took a monster of the week format and made it last 15 years, with varying levels of quality but an overall solidly enjoyable piece of media. it (sort of) grew with the times, even though they had some um. growing pains. and despite the multiple showrunners and creative teams they still managed to produce a pretty solid body of work. there are some killer fucking episodes of good tv in there, the aesthetic is great, I still genuinely think the balance of humor and drama is really well done for the majority of the show.

the last two episodes were not.....idk. idk what show I’ve been watching this whole time but it definitely wasn’t that. ESPECIALLY the last episode. you can’t blame it all on covid, because that just affects the shooting schedule, not the actual script, editing, WIG DEPARTMENT (??), etc. it was just BAD TV, like they just completely forgot how to make a regular tonally consistent television episode even factoring in the adjustments for covid. I promise you even at its worst (I think, we skipped most of season 7 lol) supernatural was not this bad. yes, I’m including bugs, which for some reason I remember thinking was a fine episode but I was also like 15 at the time, so. grain of salt.

also dean/cas is still a really solid fucking ship. I didn’t need it to be canon, although I absolutely would not have watched the finale live if they hadn’t made the angel gay because I’m a fucking dumbass. there’s a lot of great content, it’s obviously bait but I much prefer subtext between two well-developed characters instead of a random side gay character who gets a partner and then vanishes for the rest of the series. however that is another topic altogether I have already exposed too much of my personal damage tonight

anyways the point is even aside from how it ended, I’ve been having a lot of fun catching up on the seasons I missed during the 10-year blackout period I had where the cw’s supernatural just did not exist in my level of reality, and I am gonna keep watching until I’ve caught up. I still really enjoy the show, I like the characters, I think a lot of the people who made the show would have made a lot of different choices but their hands were tied by the showrunners/producers/execs/etc. I ignore a lot of the stuff the cast and crew has said over the years because who cares, death of the author, etc etc. I also think the fandom was a little insane during the height of the show’s popularity and while it doesn’t excuse some shitty behavior on the cast/crew’s part it does uuuhh explain some choices.

do I recommend you watch the rest of it? eh. idk. if you’re into destiel I think it’s fun, but just stop at ep 18 when you get to the last season, which apparently was pretty solid up until last week. if you can separate yourself from the conclusion and the intents of the producers/writers to just watch the rest of the show, I’d say go for it. again, for the most part it’s fun, although I speak from a place of someone who was really really into supernatural before my frontal lobe fully developed. AGAIN. grain of salt.

my friend @vespasiana is working on a recommended spn watch list, and there is another good one here if you don’t feel like committing to the whole thing

im gonna stop talking about supernatural now hope this helps <3

#reply tag #spn tag #really can’t believe you forced me at gunpoint to write a goddamn essay about the cw’s supernatural you sick fuck #Anonymous

[goldencuffs]

fake dating au part two

Whenever Laurent was overwhelmed, or feeling the kind of loneliness even a good cock couldn’t cure, he would sneak off into the library in the north wing of the Palace, where most of his mother’s official portraits were displayed.

Laurent loved all of them; Hennike was smiling in every single one, blonde hair curled perfectly, and teeth a stunning white. The colouring of her gowns and crowns were so bright, even painted, they seemed to shine in the dullest light. Laurent didn’t really know her; she had died three days after giving birth to him, but he had watched so many interviews and home videos of her, he felt like he had. She had been beautiful, well spoken, and everyone had been shocked when she had fallen for Al, because she had been betrothed to someone else.

Laurent liked coming down here to talk to her. It helped to have her listen to his dramatic tirades. He had started doing it when he was thirteen, when Auguste had enlisted in military training and left him alone, but had stopped a few months later, when Al caught him, his face ashen as he’d watched his youngest son babble to his dead wife.

After that, Laurent made sure to only come down in the dead of night, when he was absolutely desperate.

Which was clearly now; Laurent’s head had been spinning since the dinner at Heston’s. Even dessert hadn’t cheered him up — Heston, the absolute cretin, had served only four options of dessert and not a single one had chocolate in them. Not even one! It was like people intentionally went out of their way to put Laurent in a foul mood. Laurent had already drafted a wordy letter about Heston’s appalling lack of class and hosting abilities on the way home, and he was going to send it to the local tabloid first thing in the morning.

Laurent paced around the library, addressing his favourite portrait of his mother. It was her wedding portrait, and he loved all the detailing in it. The blush pink flowers in her bouquet matched her lipstick and her blush, and the tiara she was wearing had 588 diamonds in it. It was called The Laurent Tiara, and when Laurent had found out it had been Hennike’s favourite crown, he’d cried into his pillowcase for an embarrassingly long time.

“If I tell Al the truth now, he’ll kill me,” Laurent wailed at an appropriately low volume; he was very considerate of the sleeping guards when he threw his tantrums. “Or worse — get me married! Oh god, he’ll set me up with that idiot Torveld and I’ll have to spend the rest of my life hearing about his coin collection. Who even uses cash anymore? And what exactly is the point of having money if you can’t use it? And has Al even considered the aesthetics of our coupling? How are we supposed to wear matching outfits if Torveld looks rubbish in Egyptian blue and azure? Hello! Those are my signature colours!” Laurent sunk down on the lumpy sofa and buried his head in his hands. “Maybe death really is the better option.” He looked up at Hennike’s green eyes. “Is heaven overrated? Where would you personally place it on a scale of one to ten?”

She didn’t answer him, obviously. It was no use, anyway; Laurent was definitely not getting into heaven.

*

Laurent woke up irritated and unrested, and not for his usual, fun reasons. He hadn’t come up with any sort of solution to his dilemma and he had had a very strange dream where Damianos punched him while Al watched on. Then the scene had changed, and Laurent was on stage accepting his tenth Oscar for Best Actor, even though he had yet to star in any films.

“I’m thinking of becoming an actor,” Laurent told Al later that night during dinner.

Al’s eyes narrowed and his mouth became a sharp line. “What?”

“I mean, I have the looks, obviously. And really, how hard is acting anyway? Clearly you don’t even need to be very good at it to star in a movie — look at Channing Tatum. I’m sorry, but it’s very obvious his height was the only thing that got him into Hollywood, and even then it’s not that impressive.”

Al put down his knife and fork. “Can we —” He sounded very strained, “have a normal conversation for once.”

Laurent considered this. “I don’t think we’ve had enough conversations to statistically find out what constitutes a normal one,” he said. Al went red, so he continued, “So you don’t think acting is for me? Shall I try directing then? Or maybe —” He sat up excitedly in his chair. “I could write movies! I have so many ideas! Why, for instance, has no one considered a gay version of The Princess Bride? What would that even be called? The Prince Groom? Ugh, no, that’s terrible. Oh, who am I kidding — with my face and my body I have no choice but to be on camera. Otherwise, it’d be such a waste.”

The vein in Al’s forehead was throbbing. If he had been wearing his crown, it would have gone unnoticed, but like this, it was rather unflattering.

Al said, “Laurent,” in a sombre tone. “I really hope you’re joking.”

“About The Prince Groom? Kind of. But the acting thing — would it really be that bad?”

“You are a prince,” Al said, teeth clenched. “If it is the glam and glitz you want, you have more than enough here.”

Laurent, uncomfortably, thought of his room, the only place in the Palace that was truly his, devoid completely of personal artefacts. He swallowed. “Yes, well.” He tried a smile. “Maybe I should borrow another crown from the royal archives. I don’t think I’ve worn one with emeralds yet.”

Al resumed eating. “Speaking of crowns,” he said, completely glossing over Laurent’s last statement. “I’d like you to wear the Crown of Naos when King Damianos arrives.”

Laurent’s mouth dropped open. “As if! Al, the gold colouring on that completely washes me out! Not to mention the fact that that thing weighs like, five kilograms!”

Al’s nostrils flared at the word Al. He said, “The crown is a gift from Damianos’ great great grandfather to yours. It will be an appropriate and symbolic gesture if you wear it.”

“But why can’t you wear it? Or Auguste?”

“I am not the one having an affair with the King of Akielos,” said Al.

Oh, right. Laurent had forgotten about that. But what was the point? It wasn’t as though Damianos would recognise the gesture. If anything, he might think of it as inappropriate.

Instead he said, “Well, gee, Al, I didn’t peg you as a romantic.” Laurent fluttered his lashes a little.

Al pushed away his plate. “I’m done, thank you.” A servant immediately came to clear away his food.

Al left the dining hall, his shoulders tight. Laurent wished Auguste would hurry back home already.

*

In the morning, on the way back from the stables, Jord said, “Looks like your wish came true.”

Laurent stopped dead. “Oh my god — is Pierre-Alexis Dumas here? Is he finally going to collab with me?”

“Who’s Pierre-Alexis Dumas?” said Jord.

Laurent whirled on him. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Sorry.” Jord said, not sounding the slightest bit sorry. The audacity! “But look.” He pointed past Laurent, to the front of the Palace.

Laurent looked. There was a nondescript black limousine parked on the long, gravel pathway. Laurent would have dismissed it, if he didn’t spot sight of Jeurre, Auguste’s chauffeur, leant up against one of the doors, smoking.

Laurent gasped. He passed on his bridle to Jord, who fumbled to catch it, and ran inside.

Auguste and Al were in the plate room. Al was sitting on the large, velvet throne, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It wasn’t even noon! And he was baring his teeth in that weird way — smiling, as he called it.

Auguste was standing in front of him, hands behind his back. He had gotten very tan, and his hair was much darker, a strange golden colour that made the blue-green of his eyes more appealing.

They both turned when Laurent entered. Al’s mouth was already drooping at the sight of him, but Laurent only had eyes for his brother, whom he hadn’t seen in eight whole months.

Laurent wanted to hug him, which surprised even himself. Laurent was not a hugger. He wasn’t much of a toucher, either, unless it involved getting laid.

Auguste gave him a nod. He sometimes acted so much like Al, it disgusted Laurent; the only difference was that Auguste’s eyes were always kind.

Laurent peered at him closely, shocked. “What have you done to yourself? Are you having a mid-life crisis? Should we call Paschal for a yearly psych evaluation?”

Auguste laughed. “It’s a moustache, Laurent. It’s very fashionable in Kempt, you know.”

“It’s horrendous!” Laurent cried. He stared at the thick hair above Auguste’s top lip in horror. “Right. I’m officially ruling Kempt out as a holiday destination this summer if all the men are growing that.”

Al’s eyebrows furrowed. “I like it. It’s very refined.”

“Oh god, now we have to get rid of it,” said Laurent, which made Al frown and Auguste laugh. Auguste squeezed Laurent’s shoulder. He was always mindful of Laurent’s boundaries. “I think you’ve grown taller.”

“I haven’t,” Laurent said. He showed off his riding boots. “See? It’s three inches of heel.”

“Very impractical,” Al said under his breath, which was not a very Kingly thing to do.

Auguste was still smiling. “I like it. It matches the piping of your coat.”

“Yes, exactly!” Laurent was so happy in that moment, he leant forward and hugged Auguste. It was very short, but Auguste looked so pleased afterwards, Laurent wished he had prolonged it.

“Did you get me anything?” he asked, to cover the embarrassment following his sudden burst of affection.

Auguste raised an eyebrow. “I’m hurt, Laurent. You’re not going to ask me about my classes or my rather excellent Anthropology professor?”

Laurent scrunched up his face. “Are you stalling because you didn’t get me anything?”

Auguste smiled. “There’s about fifty boxes of Grand Cru chocolate in your bedroom.”

Laurent’s sound of ecstasy was too loud; Al spilled some of his whiskey onto his pants. Auguste clapped him on the back in commiseration.

As the servants laid out a small meal —  roses of smoked salmon on cucumber slices, macaroons, thin slices of cured meat and cheese, crunchy shrimp salad on crusty rolls, grapes and strawberries and mango and pineapple, individual strawberry shortcakes, that kind of thing — Auguste said, “Father tells me you’re having an affair with the King of Akielos.” He said it casually enough, but Laurent could see he wasn’t thrilled about the idea.

Laurent swallowed his last bite of sandwich and placed a hand on his heart. “Al! You should know better than to gossip, shame on you!”

Al just sighed, a long, suffering sound, and Auguste glared openly at him. “I thought you promised to stop disrespecting Father like that.”

Laurent’s stomach pooled with an uncomfortable tightness. Being told off by Auguste somehow was always worse than being told off by Al.

“Fine,” Laurent said shortly. He said to Al: “Oh dearest Father, Papa, Your Majesty, light of my life, the man who impregnated Queen Hennike, so I, your glorious creation, could be born to bring some joy to this bleak, bleak world: stop gossiping immediately.”

There was a very long pause. Then Auguste laughed. “You are such a shit.”

Al sighed again. “He’s becoming more and more insolent by the day.”

“Thank you so much,” Laurent said, wiping away an imaginary tear.

Auguste barked another laugh. Al sipped more whiskey; a very good sign. Laurent was going to take advantage of this; he wanted a new watch.

Auguste continued his questioning a few minutes later. “So. You and the King — it’s true?”

Laurent flapped a hand. “Oh, you know how it is. He saw those pictures of me from Aimeric’s birthday party where I wore those silk shorts that were just long enough to be tasteful and the poor darling had absolutely no choice but to slide into my DMs and woo me.”

“What’s a DM?” asked Al, and if the question had come from anyone else, Laurent would have found it adorable. He probably would have tweeted it as well.

“Texting,” Auguste said. He seemed contemplative. “Aimeric’s birthday — from last September? It’s been a bit more than a year.”

“Yes,” said Laurent. He tried to say it as wistfully as possible. “He bought me a Ferrarri.”

“Really?” Auguste sounded impressed. “The 1954?”

Laurent grinned. “Do you want to drive it?”

“Fuck yeah,” Auguste said, then quickly cleared his throat and looked at their father. “I mean, yes. Perhaps later in the afternoon.”

Al shook his head, but he didn’t say anything for the rest of the meal. Well, he didn’t say anything to Laurent. He really was in a good mood.

*

Having Auguste back had Laurent so distracted it wasn’t until a few days later that he realised how frantically the staff were cleaning the floors and walls and painting frames.

In fact, he became so relaxed doing less than nothing all day, since Al was too busy doing this and that, or fawning over Auguste, he didn’t comprehend why the chefs needed fifty boars delivered fresh on Friday morning, until Al told him before their weekly Council, “I want you to wear your red high neck blouse tomorrow.”

“Why?” Laurent asked, checking for any fine lines in the shine of the armour of one of the propped knights in the hallway.

“It is the colour of the Akielos banner. I am trying to seem as diplomatic as possible.”

Laurent went very, very still. With dawning horror, he said, “The — Damianos is coming tomorrow?”

Al’s expression turned thunderous. “Do not waste my time asking stupid questions, Laurent. You know how much I despise it.”

Laurent’s eyes widened. “Oh no,” he said quietly, real fear settling into his bones. Damianos was going to murder him tomorrow. He would need to get a facial tonight, to ensure he was the most beautiful corpse the human eye had seen. And then something much more horrific occurred to him. “Wait! I can’t wear the red high neck with the Crown of Naos! Those colours completely clash!”

Al seemed to age a few centuries in a blink of an eye. With a shake of his head, he walked into the Chambers, leaving Laurent alone in the hallway.

Laurent frowned. One of these days, he was going to be the one storming out. It was only fair.

*

Things only got worse.

Laurent’s last minute facial broke him out, so he threatened to sue and smashed one of their stupid reclining chairs.

Laurent had honestly thought that was going to be the worst of it; the pimple along his jawline was easy to cover up once he got the local dermatologist to inject something in it.

But on the morning of Damianos’ arrival, Laurent was in a terrible mood. He hadn’t slept at all, worried about his pimple, his horrible outfit, and the fact that a man who was the size of a small house — Google said Damianos was 6’6”, but he was definitely way more, no arguments — was going to viciously kill him.

“Hurry up,” Laurent snapped at the servant dressing him, who had been pulling too sharply at his laces for the last six minutes.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he answered meekly, and continued fumbling about.

When a few more minutes passed, Laurent looked down at him. “Okay, seriously, this is ridiculous. You usually get me dressed in ten minutes or less. What is the problem?”

“I —” The servant looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Your Highness, the laces — I can’t do them up. It’s uh — it’s too tight.”

“What do you mean?” Laurent asked, narrowing his eyes. “This fit perfectly a month ago.”

“Yes, well —” And his eyes slid over to the bed, where an empty, open box of chocolates was stacked against many other empty boxes of chocolate.

Laurent saw red.

It took three guards and then Jord and Lazar to keep Laurent restrained enough to not kill him. In the end, he yelled until his throat was hoarse and the servant broke down, running out the room with his face covered in tears.

Afterwards, Laurent attempted to do up the laces himself, because he was not fat, and he definitely had not gained weight; he was svelte and sexy and desirable.

In the end, he could only do his trousers up, and only just. If he let out a particularly deep exhale… well, breathing was overrated anyway, Laurent had always thought so.

“Oh, forget it!” Laurent howled, miserable and on the verge of tears himself. “I look ridiculous.”

“No, you don’t, Your Highness,” Jord assured quickly. Too quickly.

Laurent glanced at himself in the mirror. His ass was practically suffocated in these trousers — and that was his best feature! He ran a hand down it forlornly. “It’s too tight.”

Jord’s eyes followed his hand with avid interest. He was drooling.

“Could be tighter,” said Lazar, leaning against the bedpost.

Laurent flung himself on the bed. “No it couldn’t. I need to lose about three kilograms in the next —” He checked the clock, “half an hour. Oh god. Just tell Al I died. It’ll make his day, go on.”

“Orgasms help with weight loss,” said Lazar. “I could fuck your face.”

Laurent sniffed “Don’t be so stupid.” He looked at the clock again. “Obviously, riding you will help me lose more calories. Both of you get on the bed, quick.”

*

Laurent did not lose three kilograms in half an hour. As enjoyable as the sex had been, it had only made him tired and anxious.

Jord suggested that Laurent should just let the laces at the back trail, and cover it up with a coat, even though it was far too hot in the year to wear one. Laurent obliged anyway, knowing how difficult Al would be if he showed up wearing undiplomatic colours. He changed his trousers into a different pair, making sure it had an elastic waistband to stretch accommodatingly.

When the crown was placed on his head, he staggered a little. It really was unnecessarily heavy. His great great grandfather must have had a head the size of a watermelon.

Laurent walked unsteadily down the hall, towards the Palace steps where Auguste and Al were already waiting. His insides became so twisted with the thought of seeing Damianos, he had to make a detour and hide behind a tapestry to have a panic, but only a little one.

Outside, the sun was blazing. Auguste clapped him on the back in greeting, and Laurent winced, the material of his blouse sticking to his armpits. Al’s lips curled at his outfit, but Laurent couldn’t care. He hoped he looked beautiful enough — just enough — so Damianos would reconsider his murder. At the very least, Laurent hoped nothing happened to his face.

“Alright?” said Auguste. “You’re sweating.”

“Shut up,” said Laurent, mortified. He was a prince; he did not sweat.

Auguste’s response was cut off by the sound of the gates opening and rolling tires on gravel. Laurent’s heart was in his ears; he swallowed, but it made him feel more sick.

The sleek, black car was parked in the driveway. Several seconds later, Damianos stepped out, tall and handsome.

Laurent whimpered. It was one thing to see photos of Damianos on the internet, walking briskly down the street or shaking hands with Al, and it was another thing entirely to see him in the flesh as he walked down their driveway.

He was so tall. And he was built like a tree; all thick arms and chest and thighs. Laurent had such a weakness for thighs, they were really the best part of a man’s body, how they framed the groin and the cock and —

Laurent realised, suddenly, that he had not prepared at all for how he was going to greet Damianos.

Lovers kissed each other, yes? Laurent didn’t think he could do that without being punched but god, would Al think it was weird if he didn’t at least attempt to kiss Damianos? Maybe he could pretend to suddenly be shy, too coy to look into Damianos’ eyes in front of everyone — yes, yes that sounded perfect.

Damianos came up the stairs, smile wide and straight. His teeth were amazing. Were they fake? Laurent didn’t think so; he ran his tongue over his own, nervous, heart still thumping in his ears.

He greeted Al first. Laurent’s head was spinning. What if Al said something? What if Auguste did? What if Damianos said something that alluded to the fact that this was technically, the first time he and Laurent would be speaking to another?

And then Laurent couldn’t think of anything else, because Damianos was standing right in front of him.

He reached out, one large, dark hand to shake Laurent’s. Laurent staggered forward, into his chest, and closed his eyes.

*

When he opened his eyes again, Laurent saw the most beautiful angel.

“Wow, you’re hot.” Laurent poked a very hard, very strong bicep. “Heaven’s pretty cool.” He was dead, obviously,  because people this good looking didn’t exist in the mortal world.

“You’re not dead, Laurent. Can you sit up?”

Laurent thought about it. He wasn’t dead? That was good news. But he felt like he was dead because he couldn’t move his body at all.

“Here, can you follow my finger?”

“Hmm.” Laurent said and stared unblinkingly at what he assumed was a finger. It was quite blurry.

“I think he’s concussed.”

Laurent giggled. The stranger’s accent made it sound like he had said cock-cussed. It made Laurent want to suck cock.

He said, “If I’m not dead, I’d like to be. Jord, get me my blue Prada scarf. I want to be buried in it. Lazar, get your gun out.”

“He doesn’t seem concussed.” That was Al. The compulsion to die was suddenly much stronger.

“We should take him to the hospital,” the hot angel said. Laurent was in love.

He said as much: “I really love you,” he told the blurry figure. Then he rolled over onto his side and threw up.

#captive prince #im going to see if its worth posting on tumblr and ao3 dont mind me #fake dating au #damen x laurent #my writing #my fic #queue

[letterboxd]

Life Detained.

The Mauritanian director Kevin Macdonald talks with Jack Moulton about researching Guantanamo Bay’s top secrets, Tahar Rahim’s method-acting techniques, the ingenuity of humanity during the pandemic, and his favorite Scottish films.

“You’ve got to understand that for a Muslim man like Tahar, this role has a much greater significance than it does for you or me.” —Kevin Macdonald

It’s not uncommon for a director to release two films in one year, but Academy-Award winning—for his 1999 documentary One Day in September—director Kevin Macdonald is guilty of this achievement multiple times. Ten years ago, he released his first crowd-sourced documentary Life in a Day and the period epic The Eagle within months of each other. A decade on, he’s done it again.

The Scottish director (and grandson of legendary filmmaker Emeric Pressburger) released both his Life in a Day follow-up and the legal drama The Mauritanian this month. The latter tells the story of Guantanamo Bay detainee Mohamedou Ould Slahi (sometimes written as Salahi), who was held and tortured in the notorious US detention center for fourteen years without a charge. The film, adapted from Slahi’s 2015 memoir Guantánamo Diary, features Jodie Foster and Shailene Woodley as his defense attorneys Nancy Hollander and Teri Duncan, with Benedict Cumberbatch, who also signed on as the film’s producer, playing prosecutor Lt. Stuart Couch.

Benedict Cumberbatch as prosecutor Lt. Stuart Couch in ‘The Mauritanian’.

The Mauritanian also introduces French star Tahar Rahim to a global audience, in the role of Slahi. “The ensemble is excellent across the board,” writes Zach Gilbert, “while Tahar Rahim is best in show overall, bringing honorable heart and humanity to his role [of] the titular mistreated prisoner.”

Much of the story is filmed as an office-based legal thriller involving thick files, intense conversations, and Jodie Foster’s very bright lipstick. Macdonald expertly employs aspect ratio to signify narrative shifts into scenes recreating Slahi’s vivid recollections of torture and his achingly brief conversations with unseen fellow detainees.

Qualifying for this year’s awards season due to extended deadlines, The Mauritanian has already earned Golden Globe nominations for Best Actor and Best Supporting Actress for Rahim and Foster respectively. Slahi remains unable to travel due to no-fly lists, but he was a valuable resource to the production, providing an accurate and rare depiction of a sympathetic Muslim character in an American film.

It was the eve of Life in a Day 2020’s Sundance Film Festival premiere when we Zoomed with Macdonald. Behind him, we spied a full set of the Italian posters for Michelangelo Antonioni’s classic Blow-Up. As it turns out, he’s not a fan of the film—only the posters—so we got him talking about his desert-island top ten after a few questions about his new film.

The attention to detail on Guantanamo Bay in The Mauritanian is impressive. There are procedures depicted that you rarely see on-screen. How did you conduct your research? Obviously Guantanamo Bay is a place which the American government spends a great deal of effort keeping secret. It was important to Mohamedou and me that we depicted the reality of the procedures as accurately as we possibly could. That research came primarily from Mohamedou who has an incredible memory. He drew sketches and made videos of himself lying down in spaces and showing how he could stretch half his arm out [in his cell]. There are a lot of photographs on the internet of Guantanamo Bay which are [fake] and others are from a later period because the place developed a lot over the years since it started in 2002 and Mohamedou was able to [identify] which photos were rooms, courtyards and medical centers he had been in.

Director Kevin Macdonald on set with Jodie Foster.

How did you approach creating an honest representation of the graphic torture scenes, without putting the audience through it as well? Whenever films about this period are [made] they’re always from the point of view of the Americans and this time we’re with Mohamedou. You can’t underestimate the fact that there have really been no mainstream American cinematic portrayals of Muslims at all, so in portraying a sympathetic Muslim character who’s also accused of terrorism, you’re pushing some hot buttons with people. It was important that those people who are uncomfortable with him understand why he confessed to what he confessed.

Everything you see in the film is what happened; the only difference is that they weren’t wearing masks of cats and Shrek-like creatures, they wore Star Wars masks of Yoda and Luke Skywalker in this very perverse fucked-up version of American pop culture. Obviously, we couldn’t get the rights to those. Actually, I don’t feel that it is graphic. There is more violence in your average Marvel movie. It’s psychologically disturbing because you’re experiencing this disorientating lighting, the [heavy-metal] music, and he’s being told his mother’s going to be raped and he’s flashing back to his childhood. To be empathizing with this character and then to see them to be so cruelly treated is so deeply disturbing.

How did you prepare Tahar Rahim for his convincing portrayal of such intense pain and suffering? Tahar went through a great deal of discomfort in order to achieve it. He felt that to give a performance that had any chance of being truthful, he needed to experience a little bit of what Mohamedou had suffered, so throughout the movie he would insist on wearing real shackles which made his leg bleed and give him blisters. I would plead with him to put on rubber ones and he would say “no, I have to do this so I’m not just play-acting”.

He starved himself for about three weeks leading up to a torture sequence—he had lost an awful amount of weight and he was really unsteady on his legs. I was very worried about it and I got him nutritionists and doctors but he was determined to stick with that. You’ve got to understand that for a Muslim man like Tahar, this role has a much greater significance than it does for you or me. He felt a great weight of responsibility to do this correctly, not just for Mohamedou, but he was speaking for the whole Muslim world in a way.

Jodie Foster and Shailene Woodley as defense attorneys in ‘The Mauritanian’.

What compels you to study this period in time? Mohamedou was released a couple of weeks before Trump came to power in 2016, so the story is still ongoing for him. He’s still being harassed by the American government and he’s not allowed to travel because he’s on these no-fly lists. I didn’t want to make a movie that was saying “George W. Bush is terrible”. We’ve been there, we’ve done that. This is looking back with a little bit of distance and saying “here’s the principles that we can learn from when you sidestep the rule of law”—what it takes to stand up like Lt. Stuart Couch did when everyone else around you is going along with something that’s really terrible.

You see that around Trump with the choices within the Republican Party to stand up and say they’re going to sacrifice their careers to do the right thing. It is a hard thing when there’s this mass hysteria in the air. The basic principles that the lawyer [characters] are representing is not about analyzing and replaying what happened after 9/11, they’re directly related in a bigger way to the world we all inhabit.

Did anything surprise you in how your subjects for Life in a Day 2020 addressed the pandemic? One of the most affecting characters in the film is an American who lost his home and business because of the pandemic, so he’s living in his car. He seems very depressed when you meet him for the first time, then later he’s telling us there’s something that’s giving him joy in his life. He brings out all these drones with these cameras on them and puts on this VR headset and loses himself by flying through the trees. I thought that was such a great metaphor for the way that human ingenuity has enabled us to survive and thrive during the pandemic.

I get the feeling of resilience from [the film]. This is a more thoughtful film than the original one. I see this as a movie of [us] being beware of our susceptibility to disease and ultimately to death and mortality, [and] how we’ve found these consolations as human beings. To me, it’s a really profound thing. It also speaks to the main theme of the film which is how we’re all so similar, same as The Mauritanian. It’s confronting you with all these people and saying we fundamentally all share the basic things that underpin our lives and the differences between us are much less important than the things we have in common.

Let’s go from Life in a Day to your life in film. What’s a Scottish film that you love but you feel is very overlooked or underrated? That’s really hard because there aren’t many Scottish films and there aren’t many good ones. Gregory’s Girl is the greatest Scottish film ever made—it’s the bible for life for me. That’s very well-known, so I would have to say Bill Forsyth’s previous film That Sinking Feeling, which was self-funded and made on 16mm black-and-white. It has some of the same actors and characters as Gregory’s Girl in it. Or my grandfather Emeric Pressberger’s film I Know Where I’m Going! which is a rare romantic comedy set in Scotland.

John Gordon Sinclair and Dee Hepburn in Bill Forsyth’s ‘Gregory’s Girl’ (1980).

Which film made you want to become a filmmaker? I think it was Errol Morris’s The Thin Blue Line, which is one of the top five documentaries ever made and in my top ten desert-island movies.

What else is in your desert-island top ten? Oh god, don’t! I knew you were going to ask me that. I’ll give a few. I would say there would have to be something by Preston Sturges—maybe The Lady Eve or The Palm Beach Story. There would have to be a film written by my grandfather, so probably The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, which is the best British film ever made. There would have to be Singin’ in the Rain, which is the most purely joyful film I’ve ever seen. There would probably be The Battle of Algiers, which I rewatched recently and was an inspiration on The Mauritanian. Citizen Kane I also rewatched in anticipation of watching Mank, of which I was very disappointed. I thought it completely missed the point and was kind of boring.

Which was the best film released in 2020 for you? I thought the Russian film Dear Comrades! was really stunning. It was made by a director [Andrei Konchalovsky] in his 80s who first worked with Andrei Tarkovsky back in the late 1950s. He co-scripted Ivan’s Childhood. I would love to make my masterpiece when I’m 86 too!

Related content

Films with Muslim characters

Movies that pass the Riz test

Scottish Cinema—a regularly updated list

Follow Jack on Letterboxd

‘The Mauritanian’ is in select US cinemas and virtual theaters now, and on SVOD from March 2. ‘Life in a Day 2020’ is available to stream free on YouTube, as is the original.

#kevin macdonald #michelangelo antonioni #scottish film #scottish director #emeric pressburger #the mauritanian #jodie foster #tahir rahim #tahar rahim #french actor #guantanamo bay #muslim representation #muslims on film #benedict cumberbatch #guantanamo diary #life in one day #life in one day 2020 #life in one day film #letterboxd

[justwritethatdown]

Bechloe Week 2020 – Day 4: Baby Farm Animals

Safe Word

Set in Barden years. Chloe asks Beca to pretend to be her girlfriend at her brother’s wedding, but they have to set some rules first, and a safe word.

(Part 1/3 of Fake Dating)

Rating: T

Words Count: 1.8K

Read here or on AO3

“What would you want to do me a favor?” asked Chloe with a childish smile on her face

“Depends on the favor” replied Beca nonchalantly

“I need you to be my date”

Beca looked away from her laptop and blinked at Chloe “are… are you asking me out?” she stuttered, her shocked expression make Chloe giggle

“Not for real” she explained, unknowingly crushing Beca’s heart “I need a date for Nate’s wedding, so my family won’t get on my case for not having a partner” – Nate was Chloe’s older brother, Beca had met him once, he seemed nice and they were very close.

“Wouldn’t it be better to bring a dude?” she asked, still a little shocked

“They know I like girls too, Beca” frowned Chloe

“yes, I know, but they’re not particularly happy about that” argued the brunette raising her eyebrows

“Just one more reason to bring a girlfriend” winked Chloe.

Beca knew Chloe didn’t have the best relationship with her parents; they’d always made her feel out of place, inadequate, not worth of their name. Her father was an important lawyer and her mother was one of those annoying heiresses, who did nothing other than organize fundraises and boring events. All they cared about was appearances. Nate was three years older than Chloe; he was blonde – like their parents – tall and handsome, captain of the lacrosse team – all the girls in high school were at his feet – and first of his class.

Nate was the perfect son who always makes his parents proud. Chloe, on the other hand, wasn’t so keen to please them, she followed her heart; she wasn’t top of her class – not that she were terrible either – was part of the glee club, instead of the debate one, as her father had wanted, and preferred to hang out with the outcasts instead of those snob popular girls her mother always insisted should have been her friend, since they were the daughters of her friends and belonged – like them – to the high society.

That’s why Chloe’s parents threated her like the black seep of the family. They made her feel so insecure that she used to think there was something wrong with her, to the point that she used to dye blonde her beautiful red hair, just to look more like them.

Nate was the only one who made her feel loved; he always took her side against their parents and find the time to listen to her when she needed him. He was the first one she talked about her doubts towards her sexuality and then the first one she came out to and he reassured her that it didn’t change anything about her and that he would always love her, no matter what. Chloe remembers him picking a ferocious fight with his father when he was trying to force Chloe back in the closet when she finally came out to their parents too, worrying that, even if it wasn’t an issue to them, other people might have treat their family differently knowing about Chloe’s tendencies.

However, Nate got into Harvard – to follow his father’s steps – when Chloe was still in her sophomore year, leaving her alone to deal with her parents, who always told her how much they wished she could be more like her brother. When she didn’t get into Harvard, they treated her like a failure and, even if they didn’t really disown her, it was a mutual silent accord that their interaction would have reduced to the bare minimum once se would have gone to Barden.

Chloe opened up with Beca about this last summer, when the brunette asked her why she never went home for the holidays and Chloe told her that, even if she was really confident and proud of who she was now, going home always brought back those old feelings and insecurities.

Beca knew that Chloe was asking her because, more than a date to save face, she needed a friend to support her, but she really didn’t think that pretending to be the girlfriend of the girl she was desperately in love with was the best idea.

“I can ask Stacie, if you don’t wanna come” huffed Chloe and something inside of Beca snapped. Her stomach knotted with jealousy, if anyone was going to pretend to be Chloe’s girlfriend in front of her whole family, that was gonna be her and certainly not Stacie.

“Okay, I’ll do it” she spat out “but you owe me, big times”

“You’re the best!” squealed Chloe hugging her “we need to set some rules” she added

“Rules? What rules?”  asked Beca in confusion

“Rules like, how do we act with each other, set some boundaries and safe word”

“A safe word” repeated Beca

“Yes, something you can say if you get uncomfortable and need to take a break” explained the redhead “I know my family can be a lot, you probably will need it” she added in a sad tone

“I’m gonna be fine” assured Beca offering her a gentle but sure smile “I think we would rather need a backstory, like how we met, who asked whom out… stuff like that”

“We can use our story, I think it works… and obviously, I’m the one who asked you out”

“Hey!” lamented Beca offended “what do you mean obviously? I could have asked you out too”

All it took for Beca to stop complaining was Chloe raising a questioning eyebrow and Beca awareness that, in fact, she didn’t ask Chloe out, despite her huge crush on the redhead.

“Back to the safe word, it should be something you wouldn’t normally say in a sentence but that you can manage fitting into a dialog-”

“Like I love you?” interrupted her Beca, making Chloe glare at her

 “What about… baby farm animals?”

“Baby farm animals?” gulped Beca “how am I supposed to use that in a sentence?” she complained

They moved the conversation in Chloe’s room, so that they could talk freely without being disturbed by any Bella.

“We should talk boundaries; as you know, I am a pretty expansive person, and my family knows that too, so it would make sense if my girlfriend was too, but I want to make sure you’re okay with some things…” started Chloe; they were sitting on her bed one in front of the other, knees almost touching.

“Such as?” tentatively asked Beca starting to sweat. The whole thing was starting to feel way too intimate for her; being locked in Chloe’s room, talking about how expansive they should have been with each other in front of her family. Hear heart was starting t race at the thought of Chloe treating her as like her girlfriend, so she reacted in the only way she knew: closing off and being dismissive, afraid that Chloe could find out how much she was affected by their conversation.

Beca had asked Chloe to make it quick, with the excuse that she had a lot of work to do on the mix for their setlist, so the redhead had started shooting questions at her

“Hand holding?”

“Obviously”

“Hugging?”

“Yeah, I can live with that” lied Beca, already in distress. She could barely survive their platonic hugs, she didn’t want to think about what a ‘romantic’ hug between them could do to her

“Sharing food, feeding each other?” continued Chloe, without missing a beat

“I think we already do that on daily basis” stated Beca tilting her head

“True. So you’re okay with me sitting on your lap too, pet names?”

“Ugh, seriously?” asked Beca feign disgust, but the serious expression on Chloe’s face made her clear her throat “Okay I can accept baby an babe” she conceded

“Okay…” pouted Chloe

“Oh my god, how did you want to call me?” laughed the brunette

“My little munching” beamed Chloe

“Absolutely not” spat out Beca terrified and they both laughed

Chloe became suddenly serious and looked into Beca’s eyes taking a deep breath “what about kissing?” she asked tentatively, worrying her bottom lip

Beca hesitated. “I mean, I guess… if we have to” she mumbled, feeling her cheeks heating up

“We totally don’t have to” assured the redhead “I mean, it would be easier to convince them that we love each other if they saw us kissing, but we don’t have to prove anything to them” she added with a hint of sadness in her eyes. Beca just wasn’t able to say no to Chloe

“Okay, yes, I can do this. I can kiss you” accepted B hiding her bright red face under the palms of her hands

“Don’t be so nervous about it, do you wanna practice?” asked Chloe taking Beca’s hands away from her face to let her see the ironic way she was wiggling her eyebrows

“Dude, no! what the fuck” spat out Beca, jumping off the bed

“I was joking” laughed Chloe

“Yeah, well. Are we done here?” asked the brunette, feeling a sudden need to run away

“Yep. Thanks Bec, you can go now” dismissed her Chloe.

It was gonna be a disaster. Beca knew she was going to die as soon as Chloe’s lips would touch hers. To be honest, she didn’t even know if she could survive at the fact that Chloe would introduce Beca to her family as her girlfriend.

 The following days they went shopping to find some dresses for the wedding and the wedding related events they were going to attend during the week they’d spend together at Chloe’s childhood house.

Beca hated shopping, and she hated the idea of wearing a dress, but she decided to let Chloe chose – with some limitations – what she would have liked her girlfriend to wear at her brother’s wedding.

To Beca it had a bittersweet taste; she couldn’t say she didn’t love to spend time alone with Chloe, trying out clothes in the redhead’s room and already pretending to be a couple, even if there was no one to watch them, just as an inside joke between them and to practice for the wedding.

“Babe, what do you think?” giggled Chloe turning on herself to fully show the dress she was wearing to Beca

“You look amazing, baby” joked back Beca “seriously, I thin we found the dress” she said in a more serious tone

“Thanks” smiled Chloe approaching her. Beca swallowed hard imagining a million different scenarios of what Chloe was going to do once she’d reached her – most of which ended with them kissing.

When Chloe reached her, she gently pushed a lock of brown hair behind her shoulder and let her finger trace Beca’s arm “you look amazing too” she said staring into deep blue eyes “we really are a beautiful couple” she joked, letting Beca breathe again.

It hurt. To know that it was all pretend, that Chloe wasn’t her girlfriend and it was just a joke for her, but Beca found that she couldn’t get enough of that game and wished it could last forever, because it did hurt, but it hurt so good.

#bechloeweek #Bechloe week 2020 #bechloe fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pinning #unrequired love

[innytoes]

Self-Insert January: Let’s Go Steal A Protégé

Yes I did write a self-insert fanfic of my own fanfic. Most of this was written in December and then um, January happened. This takes place December, probably before Christmas (and is obviously not canon).

Happy Self Insert month!

Being with Leverage, Jamie had seen a lot of weird stuff. Done a lot of weird stuff, too. But all the breaking into highly classified places and museums and pretending to be a circus performer and jumping off the Eiffel Tower did not prepare them for the magic portal that opened up in the ceiling of the Leverage Offices, or the lady that fell through it.

Luckily, their startled yell had summoned an Eliot, which meant that if this was the beginning of an intergalactic space war or some kind of mutant criminal rival of Parker’s, Team Leverage was going to come out on top.

Except Eliot actually put away his knife and greeted the lady, who struggled out of the squashy purple beanbag chair she landed on. “Hardison, Parker, Inny’s here!” he called.

“What the hell is an Inny?” Jamie asked. Was it a species of alien? Was Hardison’s Doctor Who obsession because they literally knew The Doctor? Honestly, it wouldn’t really surprise Jamie.

“I the hell am an Inny,” Ceiling-Lady said, before gasping and pointing at them. Which was concerning, to say the least.

“That’s Inny,” Hardison said, coming into the office and handing the lady one of Jamie’s Mountain Dews. Rude.  “She’s from a darker timeline and drops out of the ceiling once or twice a year to catch up. And get inspiration for her fanfiction. Apparently we’re like, a TV show over there. What’s up, girl?”

“Is that why nobody is allowed to move the beanbag chair?” Jamie asked. They had thought it was some weird Parker thing. Or perhaps that it was on top of some kind of secret trap door to Hardison’s BatCave or something. They ignored the part about the fanfiction and the TV show. That was too Truman Show to think about. Though their brain was already going over actors they’d cast as the team. Eliot would totally be played by Chris Evans, right?

Inny stopped chugging the Mountain Dew long enough to shrug. “They used to live somewhere with way lower ceilings. Nearly broke something falling from this one.”

“Yeah, me,” Eliot grumbled. He nearly broke something again when Parker dropped down from the ceiling onto his back. “Dammit, Parker!”

“Inny!” Parker proclaimed. “How is Deeks?”

“Good!” the lady fished a beaten up phone out of her pocket. “He met some alpacas, wanna see?” Parker snatched up the phone and made delighted noises. Jamie peered over her shoulder. They had to admit the dog was pretty cute, and the alpacas looked very intrigued by their small, same-coloured, short-necked friend.

“How’s life in the darkest timeline?” Hardison asked.

“What date is it here?” the lady asked, looking around. “I mean, if you still know.”

“Why wouldn’t we know?” Parker asked, still swiping through dog pictures.

“Well, I mean, 2020, am I right?” Inny said, waiting for a reaction. She looked incredulous at their blank  faces. “It is 2020, here, right?”

“Um, yeah?” Hardison ventured carefully.

“How dark is this timeline of yours?” Jamie asked carefully. Sure, it was a tumblr joke, usually reserved for stuff like the however-many-renewed-season of Supernatural when great shows were cancelled or whatever creepy feature FriendCzar had tried to impose that month.

The woman paused, frowned, then took a deep breath. “In response to the global pandemic of a deadly respiratory virus, President Donald Trump suggested on television during a briefing that people should inject or ingest bleach to kill the virus.”  She took another big breath. “And that’s not mentioning the fact that he downplayed the seriousness of the virus while knowing how deadly and contagious it was, called it a hoax, made taking safety precautions a political thing instead of a public safety thing, and held massive super-spreader events.”

“Donald Trump?” Jamie asked. “The ‘you’re fired’ dude?”

“Oh my sweet summer child,” Inny responded, before taking another swig of her Mountain Dew. “Yeah, I mean, I thought the fact that Australia was on fire at the start of the year was going to be the only terrible thing I was going to tell you.” She laughed and shook her head ruefully, like that was some kind of funny joke.

“Australia was on fire?”

“Yeah. Parts of the US too, for a while. Orange skies. But since the country was basically on lockdown anyway, it wasn’t like it was very different to stay inside for that…” Jamie stared at the lady, then back at the adults. Parker didn’t look overly concerned, but then, she never really did. Eliot and Hardison were both frowning, though. There was no sign that this was some kind of elaborate prank Hardison was pulling on them with the help of one of Sophie’s acting friends. Besides, he was good, but not ‘fake opening a magic portal in the ceiling’ good. At least not within the five minutes Jamie had been in the other room.

After a litany of horrible things, which were apparently not even all of them, the woman stopped. “On the upside,” she said. “I perfected my banana bread recipe, Deeks met some alpacas, Leverage is getting a reboot, and I figured out why I probably keep dropping in here.”

“To remind us that things aren’t so bad like some messed up version of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’?” Hardison guessed.

“Because Jamie is my OC,” she said, dropping a fucking bombshell like she just dropped out of the fucking ceiling. Jamie felt their brain fill with static, because no, they were a real person, and that either meant that this lady was full of bullshit, or, well, basically god. The Truman Show feeling returned ten times over. “This is my fanfic.”

Hardison recoiled a little. “No,” he whispered, fully understanding the implications of that. Hell, it was probably even weirder for him. Sure, knowing they were a TV show was probably cool, even more so with the reboot. But Fanfic Land didn’t fade to black and Jamie was pretty damn sure some kinky shit went on behind the soundproofed doors of their bedroom.

“Now, there’s two prevailing theories about this, as far as my internet rabbithole searches can tell,” Basically God Maybe continued. “Either I wrote this world into existence, because the multiverse is ever expanding and that is one of the ways it expands, or I just got some vibes from whatever crack between worlds keeps bringing me here and wrote down your shenanigans.”

At Parker and Eliot’s blank looks, Jamie clarified: “Basically, she’s either God or…”

“Some kind of shitty false prophet,” the lady on the beanbag chair beamed. “Probably the second one, honestly. My subconscious turns everything into a zombie apocalypse sooner or later, and you guys seem to be fine.”

Jamie whipped around to look at Hardison and Eliot, hopeful. “We’re fine, right?” they asked quickly. If anyone knew about a starting zombie apocalypse, it would be those two. Between Hardison poking around in basically every intelligence agency’s server ever and Eliot’s contacts, they’d know. God, Jamie hoped not. They were so not ready for a zombie apocalypse. Eliot hadn’t even taught them how to murder someone with an axe yet.

“We are definitely fine,” Hardison assured them.

“Yeah, I figured,” Not-God agreed. “If I had my say, Eliot would have stopped pining long before he did and kissed you guys.” Eliot grumbled and glared, probably because she was right. Parker patted him condescendingly on the head, which wasn’t helping matters.

The ceiling started crackling and glowing ominously. The lady put her can down as she slowly drifted off the beanbag, alien-abduction style. “Well, it’s been real. Be good, guys. Have some fun adventures. Ruin some rich douchebag’s day for me.”

“Will do,” Parker promised. “Say hi to your dog for me.” She got a thumbs up.

“Let us know how the reboot turns out,” Hardison said. Jamie figured it would probably fuck with the space-time continuum if she downloaded the show and brought it to them, but who knew. Maybe there was some kind of loophole for that, too. They were kind of curious to see what a Leverage show would look like. It probably had kickass fight-scenes.

“Stay safe,” Eliot said seriously. He’d been the most concerned about the talk of the pandemic, probably because you couldn’t punch it.

“Will do,” Inny shrugged. “I mean, 2021 can’t possibly be any worse, right?”

The portal crackled louder, which Jamie hoped wasn’t a sign. The lady was almost at the ceiling. She looked concerned, like she realised she just totally jinxed herself and the new year.

“Hey, just in case you are god,” Jamie called up. “Can you give me superpowers?”

The portal closed to the sound of laughter, and then there was silence. All that remained was a dent in the beanbag and an empty can of Mountain Dew.

“What the fuck,” they told the room at large.

“Yeah, you get used to it,” Parker said, before wandering off back to the blueprints she had been studying.

“I’m just gonna… check some things,” Hardison muttered, making a detour to the kitchen to grab a ginormous bottle of orange soda before getting behind his computer. “And buy a bunch of disinfectant and toilet paper, just in case.”

Eliot rolled his eyes, before bumping his shoulder against Jamie’s. “Come on,” he said.

“Come on where?” Jamie asked. “I’m having a bit of an existential crisis here.” If they were someone’s OC, did that mean that they didn’t have free will? Did it mean that all the cool things they had done the past year had only been because of some weird lady that fell out of the ceiling? Or did it mean-

“I’m gonna teach you to throw a knife so you can take out a zombie,” Eliot said.

Fuck that, the existential crisis could wait until 2am. They had more important things to do. Knife throwing would be fun and useful no matter if there was a zombie apocalypse or a pandemic, or they got superpowers.

#fanfic #self insert month #I wrote a thing #leverage #lets go steal a protege #HardisonxParkerxEliot #I almost didn't post this because of you know the civil war thing in the US #but then I thought wouldn't it be funny if this was pre-january and self insert Inny was just like: well fuck #dear americans I'm sorry #yes Deeks did meet some alpacas it was adorable

[liberty-barnes]

Without you, I’m just a sad song

Louis Tomlinson x Female!Reader 

Soulmate AU

Summary: In a world where song leads you to the one you belong with, Louis meets his in a peculiar manner.

Warnings: slight age gap (Louis's 5 years older), fluff fluff fluff, cursing

Word Count: 2.5k words

ERT: 10 minutes

A/N: My first 1D fic!!! I'm so excited about this, I've had this idea floating around in my head for ages and I wanna take advantage of the fact that I have inspo to write it!!

also, shoutout to @parkersbliss​ for making me fall in love with this band all over again, this wouldn’t be here without her so go show her some love, my baby deserves it!!

also number 2: i now have a 1D taglist so feel free to add yourself to it if you feel like it!

Masterlist || Taglist

For as long as the world can remember, the idea of soulmates and a soul bond has been a key point of society. Everyone is born with one or more soulmates, someone you were made to be with, destined to spend your life together, to find yourselves even when death tries to tear you apart. And all that is done through song.

The oldest of the pair can hear their counterpart's voice when they sing. It usually starts somewhere during your childhood, you hear them sing, like a little voice at the back of your head, something that's always with you and that'll help you find them when the time is right.

The youngest one, however, does not hear their soulmate's voice but instead has song lyrics written somewhere on their body, the first thing their partner will ever sing to them. 

You were born with lyrics on your ribcage, words that you've memorized, cherished, and obsessed over for the past twenty-three years. Logically, you knew that you were still young and you had all your chances to find the one that was destined for you. But after watching all your friends find love, move out, get somewhere with their lives, you started to think that you'd be alone forever. Most people found their soulmates before they turn 18, yet here you were at 23 years old, still nowhere closer to them.

"C'mon, it's a great opportunity!"

"I don't know, Gina..."

Your best friend rolled her eyes and put the last red velvet cupcake on the tray with a flourish, making her way to the front of the shop to put it in the display case while you kept decorating the donuts.

"(Y/n), you're an amazing singer, musician, and songwriter, this is the best thing that could possibly happen to you."

"Yeah, what about the fact that I have terrible stage fright, can't dance for the life of me, and let's not even mention the anxiety that comes with the possibility of failure."

She sat down on the stool next to you and took the piping bag out of your hands so she could hold them, forcing you to face her.

"(Y/n)?"

You kept your head down but hummed in acknowledgment.

"Can you look at me, please?"

Your eyes met the soft pools of blue that were hers.

"Stop doubting yourself. You're not made for this, babe. The bakery's my dream, I'm perfectly content with spending the rest of my days baking with my husband but that's not for you. You were made to sing, to be on a stage, perform. It's unfair to yourself and to the world to restrict yourself so much. You need to take a leap. Have faith."

You took a shuddering breath as your eyes filled with tears.

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm signing up now."

You took out your phone and started to fill out the application, heart beating a mile a minute.

This was really happening.

"Who knows, maybe one of the contestants will end up being your soulmate."

"Without you, I feel broke, like I'm half of a whole..."

Louis smiled softly as he blinked his eyes open. Every day for the past three years, he's woken up at seven in the morning to the sweet sound of his soulmate's voice. In the beginning, it was kind of annoying given that he was most definitely NOT a morning person, but he gradually got used to it and now enjoys it.

His soulmate must like singing a lot since he constantly has a song playing in the back of his head. It was especially bothersome when he was doing a show, oftentimes singing the wrong words because his soulmate was singing another song.

There's a video somewhere about him switching from singing Midnight Memories to Toxic almost flawlessly. Admittedly not his proudest moment.

He figured she was a songwriter since most of the songs she'd been singing for the past four years were songs he could not find on the internet, no matter how hard he searched. Not that it mattered, he knew them all by heart already, which was how he was able to start singing along with you.

He prepared his tea while humming softly to the song his soulmate was singing, quite happy that she'd started singing it on repeat since it was his favorite.

"Without you, I’m just a sad song."

He frowned when she suddenly stopped, still quite annoyed that even after all this time she hadn't figured out a way to finish it and he couldn't share his idea since he had no idea who she was. He took out his phone, answering a few messages from his fans, and watching a few of the things they made while he daydreamed.

At twenty-eight years old, he should have given up on the prospect of finding his soulmate. People that don't find their soulmates before twenty-five are pretty much hopeless. Sure, he remembered reading about that couple that found each other at 41 and 43 respectively (the oldest soulmates to ever find each other up to date), but those were rare occasions.

But as the hopeless romantic he was, he just couldn't give up. He convinced himself that it was because of his job, the fact that he was famous wouldn't allow for just a casual meet-cute like most other people, but he still dared to dream.

But today was a good day. It was the first day of X-Factor's new season and he was more excited than ever to meet new people, listen to some beautiful voices, and help young people conquer their dreams.

He quickly finished his tea and left the house so he could get there on time, already dreading the centuries they're gonna make him spend in hair and makeup and the millennia that it will take them to dress him.

"Are you nervous?"

"Is it that obvious?."

Georgina took in the way you were rocking on the balls of your feet, clenching your hands in a vague effort to ground yourself and the fact that you'd redone your hair at least five times in the last minute.

"A little."

Understatement of the century.

"Gina, what if they don't like me? What if they don't like my outfit? Or I fall because of the heels? Or my makeup's too much? Or my hair! What if they don't like my hair?"

She sat you down and took your hands in hers, taking exaggeratingly deep breaths so you'd follow her lead.

"Listen to me, your hair looks fine, your outfit's fine, your makeup's gorgeous, not surprising since I'm the one who did it, and you're not gonna fall because you walk in those heels like you belong on a runway and you know it. They're gonna judge you from your voice, and voice alone, and you have a gorgeous voice so I can guarantee you're gonna nail this."

You took a deep breath and nodded, repeating those words to yourself like a mantra.

It's gonna be fine.

They're gonna love you.

You're gonna nail this.

"(Y/n) (Y/l/n)?"

You looked up at the kind-looking gentleman in front of you.

"Yes, that's me."

"Follow me, please. You're next up."

Louis took an exhausted breath and drained the rest of his water, praying for the next one to be good. Obviously, he understood the importance of the 'entertainment acts', but the last three people had been shitty singers with an even worse attitude and he just needed a break.

"You okay?"

He turned towards Nicole and rolled his eyes.

"If I hear one more of these spoiled little brats I'm quitting."

"That's a valid point."

Cheryl agreed as well and even Simon nodded. These auditions were not going well. They all took a deep breath and straightened up in their chairs when the next contestant was announced, plastering fake smiles on their faces to keep the charade going.

Please, let them be good.

A girl with a bright smile and gorgeous red dress walked on stage, looking like the human personification of a puppy from how happy and excited she looked and only one thought filled his mind:

"Oh, fuck me."

Next to him, Nicole choked on her water, being the only one close enough to hear his whispered words.

Your heart felt like it could beat out of your chest at any given moment. You were on stage at the X-Factor, facing the judges, with a big audience excited to hear you sing.

"Hello."

Simon greeted you with a smile, which you took as a good sign.

"Hi!"

You waved excitedly and the crowd cheered, making you giggle.

Louis felt like he was dying.

The audience loved you, the girls were completely enraptured by you, Simon was smiling, and that little giggle made a freaking zoo erupt in his stomach (he was way past butterflies).

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"My name's (Y/n) (Y/l/n)."

"And do you have a day job, (Y/n)?"

"I work in a bakery."

It would seem he has a type: cute puppy-like people who work in bakeries.

"And what are you gonna sing for us today?"

"I'm gonna sing an original song."

"Well best of luck to you."

More like best of luck to him, Louis's the one whose heart's beating way too fast to be considered healthy.

You thanked Simon and sat down at the piano, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out through your mouth before starting to play.

"I don't wanna die and fade away..."

The crowd's cheers fell on deaf ears as you started to play.

"I just wanna be someone..."

Only you and the piano existed. 

Only the words coming out of your mouth mattered.

"I just wanna be someone."

Louis's path to realization came in three steps.

First, he started to recognize the words.

"Dive and disappear without a trace, I just wanna be someone. Well, doesn't everyone?"

Then, the voice started to sound strangely familiar.

"And if you feel the great dividing, I wanna be the one you're guiding, cause I believe that you could lead the way..."

And finally, he noticed that the voice hammering at the bag of his head, getting louder by the second, matched the sound that was coming out from the singer's mouth.

"I just wanna be somebody to someone, oh. I wanna be somebody to someone, oh. I never had nobody and no road home, I wanna be somebody to someone..."

Your soul mark felt like it was burning against your ribs, but you ignored the searing pain in favor of continuing the song.

"And if the sun's upset and the sky grows cold..."

A little pain wasn't gonna make you give up on your lifelong dream.

"And if the clouds get heavy and start to fall..."

Everyone in the room watched with bated breath as the signs grew more and more obvious.

"I really need somebody to call my own..."

Your ribcage started to glow, slivers of light permeating the fabric and shining like a beacon. Louis's eyes gradually started to light up gold, shining like ambers in the sun.

Telltale signs that your soulmate was close by.

"I wanna be somebody to someone..."

Both of you were oblivious to it. Your attention solely on the keys in front of you, Louis's eyes locked onto your face.

"Someone to you..."

His eyes were so bright that they started to light up his face.

"Someone to you..."

Your ribs glowed so much that the words could practically be read.

"Someone to you..."

Everyone held their breath as the song came to an end.

"Someone to you..."

You finished and couldn't help but bring your hand to your ribcage, frowning when you watched it glow.

What the Hell is going on?

Louis couldn't stop himself from talking if his life depended on it.

"I finished your song."

You looked up at him and were taken aback by how bright his eyes looked.

"What?"

"The song you've been singing for the past few weeks. You couldn't finish it so I did."

He got up and joined you on stage, the room completely quiet. He started to play the melody to the last chorus, nudging you so you'd sing.

"Without you, I feel broke, like I'm half of a whole. Without you, I've got no hand to hold. Without you, I feel torn like a sail from a storm. Without you, I'm just a sad song."

Your hand remained on your ribcage as it started to burn even brighter.

"You're the perfect melody, the only harmony I wanna hear."

You felt your heart stop when he sang.

"You're my favorite part of me, with you standing next to me I've got nothing to fear."

His hands came to a stop, as did the burning, and his eyes went back to a gorgeous blue

You couldn't believe that this man in front of you was your soulmate, but most importantly...

"I can't believe I have those words branded on my ribs and I didn't think of using them."

Pause.

"That's what you're thinking about right now?"

"Well I've been obsessing over it for weeks!"

"Fair point."

You were silent for a while longer until Nicole (bless her heart) decided to break the tension.

"Hey! Look at the bright side: your wish might just come true!"

Louis's head dropped onto the piano just as you spoke up.

"What wish?"

"Well as soon as you came out, he whispered 'fuck me'."

You turned to him and smirked while for what was most likely the first time in his life, Louis blushed.

"I mean, I was thinking of taking you out to dinner first, but I'm good with getting right to the good part."

"Fuck you."

"'S that an insult or a promise?"

"Both."

You waited in Louis's dressing room while they finished filming. Thankfully you were one of the last ones so you didn't have to wait long.

Unsurprisingly, the four of them had said yes, and no matter how many times Gina told you it was because of your voice and not the fact that you were Louis's soulmate, the win still felt bittersweet to you.

The door to the dressing room opened and a tired-looking Louis came in. 

"Hey..."

"Hey back..."

He sat down next to you on the couch, as oblivious as you concerning the evolution of your relationship.

"I hope you know they didn't say yes cause you're my soulmate."

You chanced a look at him through your lashes.

"I'm serious. You're a proper good singer. You have a beautiful voice and you're an amazing songwriter. You belong in this industry."

You smiled and inched your hand towards his.

"Thanks."

He intertwined your fingers, a matching smile on his face.

"My pleasure."

You took advantage of the next silence to really take him in. Every nook, every cranny, every layer of his deep blue eyes.

"Would it be too forward of me to ask you out to dinner?"

"You're about an hour too late, I already asked you out."

He chuckled and unconsciously leaned closer to you.

"Okay, then would it be too forward of me to ask for a kiss?"

"Not at all."

Your smile was blinding as his face got closer, and when he kissed you, for the first time in twenty-three years, you felt complete.

Songs used: Someone to you by BANNERS, Sad Song by We The Kings and Elena Coats

so here it is! I hope you guys liked it! Don’t forhet to comment, reblog, and/or like if you feel like it!

-Love, Libby

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Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG 

@jeezkiddo​ @beananacake​ @yoinkyourheart​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @onebigolemess​ @samoney69​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @ddaawwssoonn​ @inhumanwithpowers​ @imagineshere-forall​ @stiles-banshees​ @orowit​ @spideynut​ @deathofmissjackson​ @ephemeral-limerences​ @write-from-the-heart​ @cardboard-ben​ @my-alignment-is-bisexual @mendes-marvel​ @timotayswriter​ @inthecornerchair​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @niallssweetheart22​ @incorrect-things​ @lost-in-the-stars03​  

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#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson imagine #louis tomlinson fluff #louis 1d #one direction #1d #x factor #cheryl cole #simon cowell #nicole scherzinger #singer!reader #contestant!reader #musician!reader #pianist!reader #songwriter!reader #banners #someone to you #we the kings #elena coats #sad song #libby writes #libbys stuff

[unibrowzz]

Mod (finally) reviews all 67 winners of the Eurovision Song Contest Part VII (FINALE)- The 2010s

And we’re on the home stretch! Just 10 songs left now.

The 2010s stands as the only decade I watched live and the only decade I haven’t yet rewatched, mainly because I have no interest to. I’ve already seen the contest anyway, if a song didn’t stick with me then, it probably won’t now.

Also prepare for some hotter than usual takes, mostly down to the 10s contests being the most well known due to recency bias. I can say whatever the Hell I want about older contests and what songs I despise from there, but one non-positive comment about Euphoria and suddenly about five butthurt anons appear in my inbox telling me why I’m wrong.

But without further ado, let’s finish these off!

2010: Satellite

Country: Germany

Artist: Lena Meyer-Landrut

Language: English

Thoughts: I used to defend this song a lot, for some reason. I used to get super defensive when people dismissed it as a cheap lazy pop song that shouldn’t have won over (insert song here, but let’s be real here, 99% of the time it’s Turkey's equally cheap lazy emo rock song) and that it robbed so many better entries, blah blah, you know the drill. And I think it’s because it was the first winner I saw as I started properly watching in 2010, so I didn’t want to shit all over the winner that introduced me to the contest. Or maybe it’s that it makes me really nostalgic, or something to that effect. But, dear God, why did I? It’s so… not worth it. I appreciate it for being a much less instrumental-heavy winner, with its skippy, snappy beat and bouncing vocals which sound closer to plain talking than actual singing, but… How many times were the lyrics ran through GoogleTranslate before they were finalised? What’s with the janky, overexaggerated fake-English accent? Why does the singer look embarrassed to be a part of this? Why was this written?  And how the FUCK did it win? It’s so weird and awkward to listen to. It’s the song equivalent of trying to make small talk with that one classmate you never talk to because they’re shy and boring. It’s like listening to an old person laugh half-heartedly at their not-that-funny old person joke. It’s canned laughter in a mediocre sitcom. It’s just an awkward, painful to listen to song that’s made all the more painful by the fact that Germany has sent much better songs that easily could have replaced this as their one post-reunification winner.

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? Spain- Daniel Diges- “Algo Pequeñito”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 60th

2011: Running Scared 

Country: Azerbaijan

Artist: Ell and Niki 

Language: English

Thoughts: Look, this one isn’t as bad as people make it out to be. Doesn’t mean it’s good, or that I find it particularly good, but the worst winner of all time? Goodness no, it doesn't even come remotely close. What we have here is a mildly pleasant ballad duet song with a distinctive sad-boyband vibe. Like you can definitely hear the “X-Factor winner’s first cover song” energy just radiating off it from the first few lines. I suppose you could argue that that does make it feel a bit clinical and like it’s trying too hard to be a big hit, but come on, it’s not like this is the first winner like that. The singing is alright; better than half the singing that won in the 2000s anyway, and the male singer especially has a nice voice. The lyrics aren’t exactly poetry, sure, but again, other winners have terrible lyrics as well and don’t receive nearly as much hate as this one does. And… that’s it. Why all the hate? No idea, but I can only assume the people who declare this song to be the worst winner ever haven’t heard anything that won before 2010.

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? Denmark- A Friend in London- “New Tomorrow”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 42nd

2012: Euphoria

Country: Sweden

Artist: Loreen

Language: English

Thoughts: Ugh. Listen. This is not a bad song. It’s decent, middle of the table, listenable, marketable, well sung, well performed, well shot. I must stress, this is not a bad song. But the best Eurovision song of all time? Absolutely not. Euphoria is one of the few winners I would describe as “overrated”, and that isn’t a term I use lightly (since it’s overused as Hell), because frankly, I don’t see what people see in this song. Hell, I forgot it completely until the 2012 voting, and further still until mid 2013 when a friend said he liked it. This song left that little of an impression on me that I completely forgot everything about it for a solid year.  And considering how many fans regard this to be one of the best, if not the best song to ever come out of the contest... that baffles me, I just can’t wrap my head around why so many people hold this song up on a pedestal and worship it like it was dropped from the hands of God himself. And I'm not sure if it's because this just isn't a genre I care about, or if it's because this was WAY back when I was a casual fan who didn't follow any of the songs or artists so didn't know who'd be the favourite going in like I do now, and therefore didn’t know to keep an ear out for this one. Or maybe you have to be piss drunk and at a nightclub to really feel the impact of this song. This song triggers absolutely no response from me other than “Oh, a Eurovision song”. I feel no emotion towards it aside from complete indifference. I can’t deny that this song made an impact, it just… didn’t make an impact on me.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Spain- Pastora Soler- “Quedate Conmigo”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 40th

2013: Only Teardrops

Country: Denmark

Artist: Emmelie de Forest

Language: English

Thoughts: Let me ask you a question: What do you get when you sandwich an otherwise decent pop song between two of the most iconic and recognizable winners of the decade? You get this. Only Teardrops is a weird, weird winner to me. On one hand, the fandom acts like it might as well not exist, you go straight from Euphoria to Rise Like a Phoenix, who cares about that filler song which came between them. On the other hand, I know a lot of people who really like it, yet all of them are either very casual fans or not fans at all. So this makes me feel like this song’s main weakness is that it’s too mainstream, at least for Eurovision fans. What are my thoughts? It depends. For one, I enjoy this song a LOT more than Euphoria; I always have done and I’m not ashamed or afraid to admit that. I find this song has a lot more personal appeal, particularly a much bigger finale in my opinion, and being surrounded by people who like this song has admittedly kept me fond of it. BUT, I still wouldn’t necessarily call it a favourite of mine. Maybe a favourite of the 2010s, but not overall. At the end of the day, it’s a little too generic, a little too normal, a little too like every other song you’d hear on the radio. It’s not really a song I find myself coming back to again and again and loving every time, it’s the song I stick on to shut my family up when they want to listen to Eurovision music and I’m too shy to show them the songs I actually really like. It's just a decent song that's unfortunate enough to be stuck in between two more iconic winners, doomed to be little more than the answer in a pub quiz question.  And even though I do prefer this one to some of those icons, and don’t really have anything else to say about it, it’s just enjoyable yet kind of bland.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Iceland

If no, what is? Iceland- Eyþór Gunnlaugsson- “Ég á Líf”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 16th

2014: Rise Like a Phoenix

Country: Austria

Artist: Conchita Wurst

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the man who made the entire continent of Europe collectively forget what a drag queen is. What a shitshow that night was. But I'm not here to talk about that, I'm here to rate/say some things about the song, and honestly? This is arguably the most vocally impressive winner from the 2010s. Seriously, there’s nothing I can fault here; this guy’s got some serious pipes. Every time I go back to it I just end up blown away by how powerful and raw this song is. And obviously good vocals alone can’t carry a song forever, otherwise I would’ve had nicer things to say about the early 70s and mid 90s, but with this song the vocals go hand-in-hand with the gimmick. Without the powerful vocals this would just be a knockoff Bond theme sung by a drag queen with a beard, like it’d just be another sensationalist gimmick song to throw onto the pile with all the other gimmick songs. But with the good singing, this has the distinction that it’s a gimmick entry that still had every right to win because the singer was actually competent. Also unlike the 70s winners this one actually has strong emotions tied to it rather than it just being a bunch of pretty French words, so there’s that.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or the Netherlands tbh

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 17th

2015: Heroes

Country: Sweden

Artist: Måns Zelmerlöw 

Language: English 

Thoughts: Fun fact: I was so bitter this won that I stormed off before the voting was done and cried in my room over it. I hated everything about this song: I hated how Sweden won just three years after their last win, I hated how the staging was just BEGGING people to vote for it, and I ESPECIALLY hated how it beat out the televote favourite because the juries were too busy wanking off to this one to care about anything else. I just despised everything about this song, and it turned me into an obnoxious jury-hater for a solid year.  And yes, I'm extremely embarrassed of all that because honestly this song is fantastic. I would go as far to say it's my favourite Swedish winner, maybe not one of my favourite Swedish entries but definitely my favourite winner of theirs. Everything about this is just so appealing to me, from the brooding intro and vocals, to the lyrics, to the staging, my GOD the staging! It’s one of the best performances of the contest to date; It's impressive without being tacky or try-hard, he interacts with his background, and that little doodle boy character he’s created is adorable. I just love this performance, it’s so mesmerising.

Was this my personal winner for this year? Not then, is now

If no, what was? Then? Serbia- Bojana Stamenov- “Beauty Never Lies”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 11th

2016: 1944

Country: Ukraine

Artist: Jamala

Language: English, some Crimean words

Thoughts: I mean… it’s good until she starts singing. Now I am by all means not an advocate for bringing back the old language rule, but songs like this sure as Hell make me one. This should have been left entirely in Crimean. Simple as that. The English lyrics are bloody awful, no way to sugarcoat it, and absolutely annihilate the potential this song is otherwise seething with, because the instrumental to this song is fantastic and the chorus and climax give me goosebumps. The performance at the contest was chilling as well; a perfect blend of both simple yet flashy staging to set up a really uneasy atmosphere that compliments the song perfectly but, God, the lyrics are bad, man, especially for such a serious song about a personal topic.  That said, it's still the only song in the 2016 top 3 that seemed winner-worthy, unlike Australia's obvious Jurybait and Russia's obvious Telebait. So… it has that. 

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? France- Amir Haddad- “J’ai Cherché”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 57th

2017: Amar Pelos Dois 

Country: Portugal 

Artist: Salvador Sobral 

Language: Portuguese (Translation: “Both of us”)

Thoughts: I still question why it took Portugal until 20-fucking-17 to even reach the top five, but that's a rant for another day.  Not that this is a rant, far from it. Anybody who knows me knows that I love this song after all, and that it’s one of the few winners I remain rather defensive of, though that’s mostly down to the amount of hate this song and its singer receive.  I will defend Sal and his hot takes on pop music until I die. Now I’ll admit, this song surprised me in more ways than one. Namely by actually winning the televote; given how this song has split opinions clean down the board as to whether it’s spine-tinglingly beautiful or soul-crushingly boring, I was expecting it to come mid-table in the televote whilst some other country swiped first. Yet somehow it managed to stomp the televote just as hard as it stomped the jury vote. I guess I wasn’t the only person this struck a chord with after all. Also, I can’t be the only one who thinks this is a perfect dance song? Like it’s great for ballroom, or contemporary. It’s so dreamy and flowy, and I usually HATE dreamy flowy songs, yet this one just resonates with me for some reason and I’m not sure why.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 4th

2018: Toy

Country: Israel

Artist: Netta Barzilai

Language: English, some chicken noises, cringe

Thoughts: And here we have another case for bringing back the language rule, because if this song had a Hebrew version I would 100% listen to it more often. When I heard Israel was sending an, ahem, "feminist anthem" about the #MeToo trend on twitter, my first reaction was "ew". When I heard it was the favourite to win, my reaction was also "ew". And when I heard the song for the first time? "Hm, not as bad as I thought."  And also "ew". This song is just embarrassing. I’m embarrassed listening to it, I’m embarrassed watching it, and I’m embarrassed when someone mentions it when I’m trying to convince them Eurovision actually has good music. You can just tell from the first few lines that it was written by middle aged men trying to shill themselves out to gullible young women who think listening to a song by some Israeli DJ “empowers” them.  And let’s be honest here: “empowering” is just media speak for “shit”. The only thing stopping me from putting it at the VERY bottom is the instrumental and performance because without the cringy lyrics you’re left with a pretty good club song, and I swear to God Netta Barzilai could sell herself sneezing for 3 minutes. If “Toy” had been entirely in Hebrew I would’ve given it a pass, and maybe a cheeky vote or two.  But, alas, that was not to be.

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? Italy- Ermal Meta & Fabrizio Moro- “Non mi Avete fatto Niente”

Personal ranking (out of 67):  64th

2019: Arcade

Country: The Netherlands

Artist: Duncan Laurence

Language: English

Thoughts: You know, in my 9 or so years watching the contest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt genuinely ecstatic watching a song win. Most of the time I either feel neutral (most of them) or a more general, content kind of happy (2014 and 2017). Like I’ve never let out a shout of joy and slid on my knees across my living room floor in sheer, blind happiness. But that’s what I did with “Arcade”. I’m not really sure why that is because, I must confess, it wasn’t my personal winner of the night, and, looking back, I preferred other songs, but… God, I just can’t explain how overwhelmingly happy I was when this song won. I’m not sure if it’s because I was alone or if I was rooting for this deep down (or if it’s because it was between this song or fuckin’ Sweden again). But that’s by the by. How’s the song? Honestly? Really good. One of my favourites of this decade, if I’m honest. It’s the kind of song that’s grown on me a lot since the night of the contest; even though it wasn’t my favourite song from 2019, I’m not mad at all at it winning.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Honestly I had about 10

If no, what is? I could list them if you want

Personal ranking (out of 67):  6th

#AND IT IS DONE #eurovision #mod's winner reviews #esc winners #finally glad to get these done lmao these were so tedious to format

[eatsleepbreathefutbol]

2 with Jesse Lingard!

‘When it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes, It is the only thing that makes us feel alive’

Recently the tabloids had started having the habit of making up stories to depict Jesse as someone innocent and you as a cheater. Jesse knew that you would never cheat on him, and he didn’t believe any of the tabloids that depicted you as the villain. Well on the other hand the Mancunian’s fans were believing every single tabloid that was published about you with one guy one night and another the next day. It was getting to the point that they were sending you death threats and hate messages for cheating on their idol/role model.

You obviously were hiding it from Jesse because you didn’t want him to worry, so he would just worry mostly about Hope instead. One day you were having enough of the hate and death threats, you were just loingong on the sofa reading them and just not having it. Today was a terrible day at work and along with the hate/death threat, you just couldn’t take it any longer. You had picked Hope up from Nursery school, and she was playing with her toys in the living room next to you. She began to get bored, so you picked her up and sat her next to you and turned the tv on then began searching for a sad romantic movie on Netflix so that you could have a good cry to let out the emotions that were consuming you inside. You were scrolling through, and you ended up choosing to watch Dear John. Hope was falling asleep in your lap, you had a bowl full of popcorn and a pint of coffee ice cream as movie snacks. You were holding Hope in you arms, and eating while watching the Movie. You were at the part of the movie where John is reading his dad a letter he had written for him about what his thoughts were during his near death experience, when Jesse walks in quietly not making a sound. He walks around the corner, sees Hope’s head on your lap, with you caressing her head while eating the pint of ice cream and crying at probably the most saddest scene of the whole movie. He wasn’t sure what was happening, so he picks up Hope and carries her to her room while letting you watch the movie. When he comes back you were trying to pretend like you just wanted to watch the movie and not because you were actually sad. “Love, seriously what’s wrong? You’re not the type to watch sobby romantic movies just because, normally you watch those kind of movies when you’re sad. So don’t shut me out and tell me what’s going on!” You paused the movie, and turned to look at Jesse so you could talk. Of course you were hesitant at first, “Ok, this has been happening for a while but I decided on not telling you because I didn’t want to worry you” Jesse giving you a worried look because of how you were phrasing the sentence “But thanks to the fake news the tabloids are creating of me, I have been receiving hate and death threats from Lingard fans” Jesse was disgusted at the fact that his fans were sending you all these not so nice comments. “Babe, I’m sorry you have to go through this. But listen, when it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes, It is the only thing that makes us feel alive. Love is what keeps us feeling alive! I know that I can’t live without you and without your love. The only thing these people want is to make a profit out of each article they write. They make all this bs stories to make you seem like the villain because they want money and it’s very ridiculous because I know for a fucking fact that you would never cheat on me, because that’s not something you would do. Also the fact that you decided to hide this from me hurts me because as your boyfriend my duty is to protect you and not act like everything is alright when it really isn’t! So please don’t hide anything like this from me again please?” You noded your head in agreement, feeling lucky to have Jesse by your side in good and bad times.

Jesse posted a series of stories on his Instagram later that night, ‘Guys I’m having mixed emotions at the moment. I want to start off by saying the fact that you guys find it perfectly fine to type up some bullshit story to profit off it while hurting someone very dear to me is just not ok and very unacceptable! Second off, I’m caught a little off guard with my fans. What makes it ok to believe a fake article, with something that is fake. The fact that you guys are believing the article and sending hate to someone, that would never do that sort of thing, who is dear to me all this hate and death threats just shows true colors. I don’t like that people take advantage of their platforms to bring someone down, I am going to take a month long break from this toxic environment. I hope you understand me, and hope you guys have a great rest of your day!’

I hope you like it :)

#jesse lingard #jesse lingard imagine #jesse lingard imagines #lyric prompts #football imagines #football imagine #futbol imagines #futbol imagine #soccer imagines #soccer imagine #manchester united imagines