#maybe I'll try the Pacific Ocean next time

[maybe-i-try]

The ocean is the worst soup ever 1/10 won't drink it again

#it's too salty #maybe I'll try the Pacific Ocean next time #i couldn't even drink it all

[roosterforme]

Stateside | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley made a mistake last summer when he left for his deployment without ever asking you out, and then he thought about you a lot when he was gone. He was stateside again for less than a day when the other guys coerced him to help with a fundraiser at the Hard Deck. A friendly wager with the squad might not be the only thing he wins by the end of the night.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drinking, swears

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger Written for Pick Your Poison

Bradley had barely been stateside for twenty four hours when he woke up in his bed at noon to an array of texts arriving all at once. Five months on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with nothing much going for him left him surprisingly exhausted. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his friends, he just needed a full day to himself to readjust. 

He groaned and rolled over after glancing at his phone and seeing the words Hard Deck in a message from Jake. He closed his eyes again after tossing his phone aside, but about ten seconds later, he cracked them open again. If there was one thing he had consistently thought about over the course of those five months, it was you. Your bright smile, your perfect laugh, your navy blue tee shirts that said The Hard Deck across the front.

When he reached for his phone and checked the message from Jake, he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe this could be an excuse to see you again sooner rather than later.

Hangman: Hey, we need you to come to the Hard Deck tonight. It's the annual charity event, and Bob can't make it. We're short a bartender. And don't try to bitch out of this, Phoenix told me you're home.

Bradley covered his face with his hand and thought long and hard about this. The real bartenders would be there to help which meant there was a chance you'd be one of them. If he volunteered for this, then maybe he'd find himself in close quarters with you for a few hours instead of the other Naval officers he'd been stuck with for months on end. Just the idea of accidentally bumping into you while pouring a beer had him texting Jake back.

Yeah, I'll be there.

Even though he was still pretty tired later in the afternoon, Bradley took a shower and then spent some extra time on his hair before dressing in his lucky shirt. That five month deployment was the reason he didn't ask you out during the summer, and now he was nervous to see you again. He had good intel from Penny that you'd been single the last time he saw you in August, but what if you had a boyfriend now? Or worse, what if you didn't even acknowledge him when you saw him?

He groaned as he looked in the bathroom mirror. Hours, possibly even days... that's how much time he'd had you on his mind while he was away. And for what? A crush on a girl who was probably too young for him? A cute bartender at the Navy hangout who definitely got asked out nightly? Shit. He was a lost cause. 

And now he was going to be late if he didn't leave right away. He grabbed his keys, and headed out to his Bronco which he had missed dearly. So if nothing else, he'd get to cruise around later after the event. But on the ride to the bar, all he could imagine was how you'd look in the passenger seat, smiling at him at every stoplight and singing along to the radio. 

"Fuck," he grunted as he parked next to Jake's truck before heading inside. He let his heart fill with hope as he strolled in to find Penny, Jake, Javy and Reuben behind the bar with two bartenders. But neither of them were you.

"Rooster!" Reuben cheered, and soon he was being clapped on the back and high fived by the guys he hadn't seen in months. It was nice, but he couldn't help but think that his smile would have been more genuine if you were here.

Jake smirked. "So glad you left your perch and joined us."

Bradley laughed as he gave Penny a hug. "Come on, man, I literally just got home."

Penny smiled up at him. "Thanks for filling in. It'll be great." Bradley really wanted to ask her about you, but then Penny patted him on the cheek before turning to reach under the bar top. "This will be a breeze for you guys," she said, handing matching shirts to the four of them. "Just a basic bar menu tonight. No super fancy cocktails. Just beer, wine, some pre-made sangria, and a few different kinds of shots."

Bradley started to unbutton his lucky shirt before pulling the new one on in its place. He smoothed his hand along the front of the blue shirt that said THE HARD DECK FIGHTS CANCER, and he noticed the two bartenders glancing at him. They were both cute but decidedly not what he had been hoping for tonight. 

"Hey," he asked them with a nod. They smiled in response, so he decided to just go ahead and ask them about you.

"She quit a few weeks ago," the first one told him. "After she graduated from law school."

"She moved, too," said the second one. "Left San Diego."

Shit. He was too late after all, nodding in response to them as he pressed his lips together in a firm line. He'd never been any good at this kind of thing, which was why he always fell into casual relationships. What should he have done? Asked you out, gone on a handful of dates and then tried to persuade you to wait five months for him? Just for him to get deployed over and over again? That wouldn't have been fair to you.

But he didn't feel like it was fair to him either, because right now he was having a hard time even remembering exactly how pretty you were and the precise tone of your laughter. Probably for the best. At least he only needed to do this event for a few hours before he could leave and go for a long drive. He swallowed down his disappointment and turned toward the guys who were in the middle of conversation. 

"How about a side wager?" Javy asked, tossing a bottle of vodka up into the air and catching it over and over again. "You know, for the charity?"

"What did you have in mind?" Bradley asked as Penny went to peek outside. "Because I doubt Penny will let us strip for charity again after last year. The two of you scuffed up the bar top," Bradley added, gesturing at Jake as well.

They both started laughing like idiots before Jake said, "Nah, let's give Penny a break this year and just tally up our tips at the end of the night. Whoever donates the least amount of tip money to the charity is the loser."

"Oh, that's a great idea," Javy said as he ate the orange slices and cherries that were meant to garnish the drinks. "What's the punishment for losing?"

Reuben smirked and said, "Loser has to report to the tarmac on Monday in his underwear. Instant push ups from Mav."

"Deal," Jake said.

"Absolutely," Javy agreed.

Three pairs of eyes settled on Bradley, and he slowly said, "Okay." If he strolled out of the locker room in just his underwear and boots on his first day back from a long deployment when he was supposed to sit down with the admirals and Maverick and have a debrief, he'd probably earn a greater punishment than just a few push ups. But it was for the charity, so he'd do it.

But he soon learned he'd made a mistake after Penny called out, "Let's get started," and propped the doors open. The first person through the door was Reuben's wife, followed by Javy's fiancee and Jake's girlfriend. And all of her sorority sisters. 

"Shit," Bradley grunted. "Did you make me come here just so I would lose?"

Javy was handing out pint glasses that they could use as tip cups as he smirked, and Bradley was wondering if there was any way he could actually stuff his discreetly with cash from his own wallet.

"You'll be just fine," Jake drawled as the jukebox came blaring to life. But even the music was mocking him as Slow Ride started to play, and Bradley had people in front of him expecting him to make them drinks. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jake's girlfriend open her purse and start stuffing Jake's tip cup full. "I feel like that's considered cheating," Bradley told her, and she rolled her eyes and smirked before tucking five dollars into his cup as well.

"Don't tip Bradshaw, Sweets," Jake complained. "We made him come here as a buffer!"

"I knew it was a setup!" Bradley groaned as he listened to someone ask him for some wine and some beer. That was easy enough. He knew how to do that. Or at least he thought he did, but then one of the bartenders who had volunteered for the night told him he poured too much wine into the glass.

Then a woman asked him for a green tea shot, and he stared at her blankly. He leaned closer to Javy and asked, "What the hell is in a green tea shot?" 

"I don't know," he replied as he poured two pints at the same time. "But you better figure it out, because your tip cup is still practically empty."

"Shit." He was scrambling to flag down the young bartenders again when he froze. He only caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but he knew it was you simply by the way you moved and the color of your hair. And then you sat down in the only empty stool left at the bar and smiled at him, your voice drawing his eyes up to your perfect face. 

"Rooster. You're back."

The little thoughts and fantasies he'd indulged in while deployed had nothing on the real thing, and he knew he was blushing as you smiled and waited for him to respond. But it had been months since he'd been this close to you, and now he was really beating himself up for not trying to make you his sooner. Because if you were his, he could do all the things he wanted to do right now. Like kiss you.

"Rooster," you repeated with hesitation in your eyes, your voice softer, nearly drowned out by the jukebox. 

"They said you quit," he blurted out as he leaned on the bartop, curious as to why you were here tonight. "And that you moved."

Your eyes went a little wider as you nodded, your smile still soft. "I did. You asked about me?"

"Can you make me a green tea shot or not?"

Bradley begrudgingly switched his focus to the woman next to you and sighed. He was about to tell her he didn't even know what that was, or that maybe she should fuck off so he could talk to you, but then you reached out and ran your fingers along the back of his hand. 

Your touch was brief but intentional, and all of the irritation seemed to ease out of his body as his gaze snapped back to yours. "Yeah," you told the other woman as your finger grazed his knuckle one more time. "He can make you a green tea shot."

"I don't even know what's in it," he told you, with a helpless smile, trying to fight the urge to reach for your hand. 

You kind of shrugged as you said, "I do. I'll talk you through it."

Bradley's smile grew which left you giggling as he said, "I'm kind of helpless back here. Nothing like you."

"Well, you can learn from the best," you told him, reaching out to squeeze his wrist before pointing to the many liquor bottles behind him. "Irish whiskey and peach schnapps," you told him, leaning on the bar now, so close that he just couldn't bring himself to turn away from you. 

"Okay," he said, memorizing the exact color of your eyes. "Thanks for doing this."

You bit your lip and smiled up at him, and when Bradley moved just slightly closer, he thought he heard you whimper. Your eyes were full of emotion that reflected his own as you said, "Focus, Rooster. Irish whiskey and peach schnapps."

He nodded once and then finally moved away from you as he scanned the bottles and grabbed the two you told him. "Good," you said, pointing to the mini fridge and saying, "now get the sweet and sour mix. It's in a pink jug. Yeah, you got it. Now you need a half ounce of each."

Bradley listened to you explain how to use the shaker while he gave you another helpless look. "I'm just a simple beer or bourbon drinker," he said as he strained the drink that his customer had been waiting several minutes for into a shot glass.

You laughed and said, "I know you are, and it's kind of endearing that you don't know what you're doing. Now top it off with a splash of Sprite." 

Bradley grabbed the soda gun, pressed the little green button and then looked up at you again. "This is endearing?" he asked, finally sliding the shot to the annoyed woman who unenthusiastically put a dollar in his tip cup and turned away.

"Very," you promised him. "And now I want you to make me a kamikaze shot."

He gave you a bland look, but his heart was pounding. "Are you joking right now?"

Bradley was hyper focused on your lips as you said, "Not at all. You can handle it. It's vodka, triple sec and lime juice. I prefer Finlandia. Impress me, and I'll leave you a nice big tip for the charity."

Then he groaned. He had forgotten about the wager and the other patrons looking for drinks and just all of it. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Thanks, but I'll probably still end up in my underwear at work on Monday morning." 

When he pushed away from the bar again, your eyes dipped down to his jeans before snapping back up. "Underwear?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he reached for the type of vodka you liked best. You told him how much to use, and he dumped it in a shaker. "The guys coerced me into volunteering tonight. I literally just got home from deployment, but here I am... their scapegoat," he said, arms held out at his sides. "They threw out a side bet based on tip money, and next thing I know, all of their wives and girlfriends show up with a bunch of cash."

While he shook your kamikaze shot, he watched you turn first to your right and then to your left, eyeing up the overflowing tip cups in front of Reuben, Javy and Jake. Your lips parted, and you gaped at Bradley, but your eyes looked a little devious now. "You know, all of this makes a lot of sense since the guys made me come tonight."

Bradley carefully poured out your shot and asked, "What do you mean they made you come?" He realized his voice sounded annoyed, but how did they all have your phone number anyway? He'd been standing here thinking about asking you for it, but they were apparently already texting you. 

You accepted the shot and took a small sip to taste it. "They kept messaging me earlier today, saying I absolutely needed to be here tonight. They said it was important I made it to the charity event." Then you tipped your head back, and Bradley was treated to the soft looking expanse of your neck as you swallowed down the rest of the shot he made. When you were done, you set the glass down and licked your lips as you dug some money out of your pocket. "That was delicious."

While you loaded his cup with all the cash in your pocket, Bradley tried to ask you where you lived now. If the guys were bugging you earlier today, you couldn't be that far. But before he could get a word out, you pushed yourself up so you were kneeling on the bar right in front of him, and he looked up at you as you grinned down at him. 

"Don't worry, Rooster," you said as you ran your fingers through his hair. "I got you." Then Bradley was reaching for your hips. He didn't fucking care if the place was packed, he was ready to haul you off to the back hallway and ask you if he could kiss your pretty lips. You beamed at him as his hands met your body, but you just cupped your fingers around your mouth and shouted over the music, "Come get your drinks from Rooster! He knows how to make everything! But kamikazes are his specialty! And he's hot!"

His eyes went wide as you slipped out of his grasp and back onto your stool while an influx of mostly women queued up in front of him. "What did you do?" he asked, trying to mentally process an order for a cosmopolitan while stumbling over you calling him hot.

"I'm helping you not embarrass yourself at work. Keep the vodka out. Grab the Cointreau and a martini glass. We're about to show the guys what's up."

Bradley struggled through drink after drink as quickly as he could, but you never gave up on him. Occasionally you'd slide things out of his way or point out where he could find something he needed, and at some point you grabbed a second pint glass for his overflowing tip money. And all the while, he stole as many glances at you as he could while he worked. 

When Penny eventually walked behind him, patted him on the shoulder and said there was less than an hour left of the event, she also shared a smile with you. But there was no hope. The other guys were already working on their third tip cups each. "I don't think I can make up the deficit," he groaned, pulling up the hem of his shirt and wiping his brow with it. 

"Oh, that's a great idea," you mused, leaning across the bar and pulling his shirt up higher. "Take it off."

He stared at you as you tugged on the fabric. "Take it off?"

You nodded, the moevent exaggerated as you said, "Absolutely. Take your shirt off." As he looked around awkwardly before pulling his shirt over his head, you cupped your hands around your mouth once again and said, "He has six pack abs!"

Now the guys were glaring at him. "So do I!" Reuben complained.

"Don't you dare take your shirt off!" his wife told him, pointing at him in warning. 

Bradley knew his cheeks were flushed, and all he really wanted to do was talk to you and hopefully kiss you. And he really wanted to do all of that with his shirt on, because he felt a bit like a stripper now as you reached for a third tip cup. The cash was filling it up quickly, and he smirked as he thought about Reuben, Jake or Javy in their underwear instead of him. And it was all for a charity after all. 

"Make him use the shaker!" you urged a woman who looked like she was in her seventies and holding a crisp fifty dollar bill. "Make him flex."

Bradley groaned your name which sent you into a fit of laughter, your second empty shot glass still in front of you. "This isn't right," he complained half heartedly as he shook the older woman's Mai Tai with flexed abs and biceps. 

"It is so right," you told him, and he appreciated that you were scoping out the other guys' tip cups instead of looking at him right now. "Keep going. It's going to be so close." And then that fifty ended up in Bradley's cup when he handed over the cocktail, and you said, "Or maybe not!"

"Last call for the fundraiser!" Penny shouted over the crowd, and Bradley almost sighed in relief when the last few people ordered beers and a glass of wine. And then it was all over, and he had a huge amount of cash in front of him along with you. But he didn't care about the tips as much as he did getting to finally talk to you. The fundraiser was technically over, and you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you.

When he took a breath to suggest you and he go for a walk, he felt a hand on his bare back. It was one of the young bartenders who was helping out, and she said, "I can count up your tips for you," with a smile.

"Nope," you said, reaching for his cups yourself and shooting her a glare. "I'll do his. You go help Coyote." You didn't move again until her hand slipped off of his back and she walked away, and then you looked at Bradley and asked, "What are you going to do for me if you win?"

He watched as you quickly sorted the bills into efficient piles as he pulled his shirt back on and leaned against the bar. It had quieted down significantly, and now Penny was taking a few drink orders while everyone else seemed to move to the tables. He felt like he had a moment of privacy with you as he said, "I guess that depends. Apparently you moved away, Sweetheart."

"I did," you confirmed with a smirk as you counted up his twenties. 

"But you came back tonight."

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you moved to the pile of tens. "I'm not too far away. I took a full time job and moved to Del Mar. The guys told me I needed to be here tonight for a special surprise. They said something I had been missing was returning. So I came down."

Bradley's fingers flexed on the edge of the bartop. "They did?"

You looked a little vulnerable as you stacked the bills in one pile and said, "Eight hundred and seventy one dollars." 

He nodded once and pushed the money aside without really looking at it. "You'd been missing something, Sweetheart?" he pressed gently, heart pounding in his chest. 

You bit your lip as your eyes drifted closed when he rubbed his thumb across your cheek. "I guess I must have asked the guys one time too many if they knew when you'd be back from your deployment."

"Oh," he rasped as you looked at him again. "You missed me?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I was going to ask you out, but then you were just gone. And they told me you were deployed, and I thought I really missed my chance. And I didn't even know if you were single or not, so I-"

Bradley had heard enough, so he kissed you. Just a soft press of his lips to yours, but you practically crawled onto the bar to get closer to him. And it was better than he spent the last five months imagining it might be. He could taste the vodka and lime on your tongue as it met his. Your fingers gently combed through his hair again, and he moaned, "I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Your laughter was soft and sweet as your nose brushed against his, and then he jerked back a few inches as Reuben shouted. "Yo, Rooster! There's time for that later, man! How much tip money did you make?"

"Eight hundred and seventy one," you replied as your fingers trailed down his scarred cheek to rub his mustache before you pecked him on the lips. The three guys groaned in unison, and Bradley watched your face light up in a beautiful smile. 

"This is not why we told you that you had to come tonight!" Jake whined, pointing at you and pouting. "You were supposed to distract him, not help him win! He was just supposed to turn into a bumbling mess and admit he has feelings for you!"

You turned away from Jake, and you asked Bradley, "So, do you have feelings for me?"

He huffed out a laugh before he hopped up to sit on the bar, swung his long legs over to the other side and hopped down again. You jumped from your stool and into his arms when he said, "I thought about you the whole time I was away, Sweetheart. I wanted to ask you out in the summer, but I didn't think it was right to hope you'd wait almost half a year for me to be stateside. For us to be together again."

"Bradley," you moaned. His hands found your hips just like earlier, and this time he pulled you snug against him while your fingers teased through his hair. "If a guy is worth waiting for, then I'd wait forever."

He kissed you again, tasting and nipping the lips that he'd dreamed about. Inhaling all of your sweetness that his mind didn't do justice to when he'd been away. Feeling your smile against his lips for the first time.

"Let me ask you again," you said, pausing between kisses. "Since I clearly helped you win the bet, what are you going to do for me?"

"Anything you want," he said immediately as you started to push him toward the door with a grin. 

"How about we go for a long drive? And we can talk about how the next time you're deployed, your girlfriend will be waiting patiently for you to return?"

Bradley scooped you up, sending you into a fit of laughter as he carried you directly to his Bronco.

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

Bradley was exhausted on Monday to the point where the travel mug of coffee you sent him with did nothing to keep him from yawning out on the tarmac at 8:00. But every yawn ended with him smiling as he thought about how perfect the weekend had been. In the very early hours of Sunday morning, you'd agreed to be his girlfriend. And now he was waiting for the cherry on top of it all.

He didn't have to wait long as he stood between Reuben and Javy, the three of them looking nearly identical in their matching flight suits and boots, standing at attention in front of Maverick. Then Jake came strolling out, and Bradley instantly started laughing. 

Maverick turned, took one look at Hangman in his boxer shorts and combat boots and said, "I don't even want to know what's going on here, I just want five hundred push ups."

Jake's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his face as everyone else tried their best to hold in their laughter. Bradley took his phone out as discreetly as he could and snapped a picture of Jake panicking on the tarmac before he dropped down onto the ground and started on his punishment. 

"Everyone else to your jets," Mav barked, and Bradley didn't stick around to hear him say it again. Instead he texted you the photo of Jake along with a short message.

Couldn't have pulled it off without your help, Sweetheart.

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

The way I would die of this man just casually started calling me his Sweetheart. I love that he swept the guys to win the bet! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[negobeauriva]

A deep analysis of Konstrakta's "Novo, Bolje"

I know that there are maybe many articles about this song already, considering it came out a week ago or so, but I am so in love with both the song and Konstrakta herself that I needed to put my two cents on this song and why I think it's such an awesome entry. I'm also going to make a comparison to In Corpore Sano and relate both of the songs. I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Btw, I've gotten the necessary translations from here and here.

Let's start out with the title: Novo, Bolje means New, Better. It's already an indicator that sets the pace for what is coming.

Musically, the song is quite simple - It has only three chords that keep repeating in an uniform pattern, with a distinctive synthesizer that repeats itelf throughout the song as well. It's fast paced and eclectic, very modern, to fit the theme of the lyrics. It's worth noting that the backup singers are taking a very important function here. I'll explain it later on.

Now, let's get to the lyrics. Through the entirety of the song, Konstrakta is speaking to an imaginary doctor, to which she's telling of her latest affliction: She craves novelty. She only wants new things, new improvements, nothing seems to be enough for her, and she considers this as something wrong, something to be cured. This is about addiction to novelty and consummerism - modernity has made us addicted to updates, the newest phone, the newest device, the newest social media, every new thing is exciting and we eventually run for it.

The chorus is proof of it: New, better, faster, bigger, higher, prettier, stronger. The things she has aren't somehow enough, and she claims that all of this is coming. She wants something better than good. Good isn't cutting it anymore. It needs to be better.

Konstrakta proceeds to elaborate on her point saying that if she was smarter, she could turn a kilo of bread into two, and that ever since she was born, she has been knowing about better than good, which is another jab at modernity: New generations are addicted to new things since they are little. Let's think back, how many of us in our childhoods wished for better, bigger toys or electronic devices? It's an actual reality. And with the rise of phones, tablets and similar devices in infancies, this is more present than ever.

This also speaks about self-pressure about being better than good, the line "the performance could've been better" is a reference to our modern perfectionism, and the wish to reach even higher heights everytime, with innovations that sometimes aren't necessary. Why would the Pacific ocean need to be more pacific, anyway? The grandiosity and the exaggeration are marketing elements to draw you in, to try and show you that you can, indeed, be better than good. It's exploitation disguised as motivation and self help.

Then she says that she feels set up everywhere, because she is seeing anomalies, which is another point. Consummerism is a social issue, but if you point it out in a consummerist society, you're most likely to get laughed at or gaslighted in the sense that you're not being brainwashed by the consummerism. Which leads us to the next line, Konstrakta asks the doctor what's wrong with her, why is she seeing anomalies everywhere? Why is she addicted to novelty and perfection? She's trying to break the cycle of self-awareness, and at the same time, she wants her head to shut up about the pressure of novelty and perfectionism. She might believe nobody else is going through this, which is, ironically, an anomaly on itself.

When she sings the word "better" over and over again, it eventually gets distorted by the end of the phrase, which shows us that she's losing herself. In trying so hard to reach better, to improve, she's losing and destroying pieces of herself to try and build something new. The backup singers are repeating the other adjectives: better, faster, bigger, higher, prettier, stronger. Another proof that her head presses her further than she can actually reach.

In a more calm section of the song, she says that everything is fluid, and if she stops, she'll fall through, stating that she needs to constantly go full speed, up, towards higher heights. This is very telling. At the beginning of the section, the music gets calmer, almost quiet, but as Konstrakta starts repeating the words "going up, constantly going up", the synthetizers and the fast pace are back again, supporting her claim and her "illness" - the need for speed, novelty, perfection. Nothing is enough. Nothing will ever be enough. Konstrakta is trapped on a cycle of perfectionism and addiction to novelty. In trying to break the cycle, she's perpetuating it at the same time. It's a vicious cycle from where she can't escape.

When Konstrakta asks again what's wrong with her, this time she doesn't even get to explain what affects her. Here is where the backup singers reveal their real role: They are the voice of society. While Konstrakta tries to figure herself out, the singers appear to reinforce her need for novelty, the need for something new coming, the thought that nothing is never and will never be enough. And in this final section of the song, they shut Konstrakta up: "For God's sake, there's nothing wrong with you". They're gaslighting Konstrakta into thinking it's all in her head, and that she needs to keep striving for more.

During the final section of the song, the singers chant, almost like madness, that it's coming. Novelty and progress are coming, and nobody, not even Konstrakta herself, can stop it. While all of this is happening, she screams, calls out for the doctor to help her, but she receives no help - she's being consumed by the spiral. She's being dragged by the tsunami of society, the fast paace of consummerism devouring her as she screams in agony. And then, she says the most beautiful phrase I've seen in a song in a while:

"The wish doesn't know about what is unreachable."

We can strive and wish for perfection all we want, but wanting something and being realistic about it are two completely different things. We can try to reach the moon, but we are too far to actually do it. And in our search for perfection, not only can we lose ourselves, but we can go to dangerous heights: Security breaches, the end of individual liberties, violence, stepping over people's heads to get whatever we want, however we want. The wish doesn't know what's unreacheable. Therefore, there are no limits to modernity. This is a hurricane, and it's going to destroy us all.

There is no escaping this. Which is why she closes by saying "it's coming" - Modernity is coming. We can't do anything to stop it.

Now, let me compare this masterpiece to her former Eurovision entry, In Corpore Sano.

It's curious to notice that both songs have the same length. In Corpore Sano, in case you need a reminder, speaks about how an artist must keep themselves healthy, appreciating our health and the moments in which we have it, to be thankful for being healthy and our body properly functioning. It's a jab at the Serbian medical system for it's negiglence with artists and the lack of medical insurance for them, also stating how health is a privilege, citing Meghan Markle's hair as an example to kick off the song and start speaking about hydration and health problems and how to identify them.

A healthy mind in a healthy body, a sick mind, a scared mind... Where do we go from this?

This song is more ominous, and the beautiful staging was also very ominous, setting the atmosphere for Konstrakta to become an advocate for Serbian artists and their health system. Art and social criticism, hand in hand.

Both In Corpore Sano and Novo, Bolje speak about health, one being physical, the other being mental. In the case of In Corpore Sano, the background singers don't take as big of a role as they do in Novo, Bolje, and when they do, they reinforce Konstrakta's message, instead of being dismissive about it or trying to shut it down. Both the songs are written in minor keys and are limited to a couple chords, keeping it simple.

In Corpore Sano is slower paced, as if trying to get people to understand the point. We also get a hint of grief - Konstrakta lost her bandmate and friend Miroslav Ničić to leukemia in 2019, which inspired this song to come to fruition. Novo, Bolje, is faster paced, showing us the chaos and the need to rush that the song tried to criticize, and it's repetitive, highly repetitive, to catch people in. The catchy tune is meant to make you forget the point of the song, showcasing how tone deaf society can be sometimes.

At the same time, In Corpore Sano has a hint of divinity. God grants us health, but I don't have medical insurance. Latin has always been a language related to holiness, to purity. Novo, Bolje, has no divinity to it, it's quite banal, vulgar if we try to compare it to Latin - in the Middle Ages, any language that wasn't Latin was called vulgar, meaning "of the people". This song is nowhere near God. Our society has killed God, and has gone beyond divinity. Holy Modernity, mother of our Society, has taken over.

In Corpore Sano is meant to be a ritual song in all of its aspects - we see Konstrakta moving and clapping her hands, cleaning them ritually with her backup singers as assistants, overseeing the process as if to take care of her. They are dressed in black, Konstrakta in white, showing herself as a pure, healthy being, trying to teach others about health and how to keep it. We haven't seen anything about Novo, Bolje's staging, but the concept Konstrakta has shown with her in blue skin and an eccentric white attire, with the caption "The Kilimanjaro could be higher" (a brilliant reference), is meant to scandalize, to be weird, to make you think about the absurdity of things. Again, there is no holiness, no ritualism, nothing. It's banal. It's empty. And that banality, along with the message, is what makes this whole concept beautiful on itself. It's what makes it so brilliant and so well crafted.

I hope you've made it so far and that you have liked this analysis. In short, Konstrakta is a genius, a musical and lyrical genius, and I can't wait to see her again setting foot on Eurovision's stage. I hope this helps you look at her song with new eyes.

She's definetely gotten newer and better.

---

I'm adding a new section of this analysis, to further it, now that Novo, Bolje's staging has been revealed.

First off, I want to thank every single one of you who gave support to the original version of the analysis, from the fans, to people from Serbia, to Konstrakta herself! I'm super honored to have been shared and promoted by her. It feels amazing.

Now, onto what's important: The staging.

Many people have put criticism on the fact that "this is just the same as last time", but they fail to perceive this is the exact message Konstrakta wants to get across. Modernity promises new, better, bigger, stronger, faster, prettier... But in the end most of the things that it produces are the same that they were before. Many new phones end up being the exact same as old models, but with a very small improvement, sometimes hard to see. This is the reason why Novo, Bolje is so similar to it's eldest sister, In Corpore Sano. A sequel that doesn't feel as much as a sequel, and in there resides its charm.

I've also been pointed out to the fact that this is supposed to be a satire against returning artists and their efforts to make something "new, better", and I really like that approach. It's a very interesting artistic satire.

Konstrakta is once again dressed in white, and her singers in black - A contrast between divinity and evil. But this also reinforces the fact that she is the "odd one out", she's questioning modernity, she's the one going against the norm. She's different from everyone around her. The fact that we can't ever see the "doctor" she's referring to, also helps reinforce this message. This will come back later, so keep it in mind.

This time around, she is not washing her hands, but instead making bread. Bread has many symbolisms, but in religion, bread symbolizes the gift to God to humankind - a stark contrast to a godless modernity, as stated prior in this analysis. Bread is the most basic of meals, and one of the easiest to put together, it's universal, every culture has its own version of bread. Just like modernity, universal, basic, stripped out of all value when you truly look into it. Bread is one of humanity's turning points. Modernity is, too, one of humanity's turning points. The creation of the Internet, the introduction of cellphones and computers, the invention of social media, didn't they all change humanity as we know it, just like bread did? Also, just like bread, these novelties are "food" - a basic need, something we can't live without now that we have discovered it.

Interestingly enough, the words "Not new, not better" flash around the first minutes of the song. This "episode" is so similar to the past one, it seems to contradict its title, but then again, therein lies its charm.

In the background, we always see eyes on the sides of the stage. "Big brother is watching you" - rings a bell? Modernity has its eyes everywhere. You are constantly being watched, you have to keep on track, not question anything and just lift your head and pretend everything is normal.

Konstrakta is constantly kneading the dough, never do we see her putting it into the oven - this can also make a reference to the "it's coming" line of her song. The bread is coming, it's supposed to come out soon, just as novelty is coming. Evo sa'ce, how the song would say. Inbetween, Konstrakta lets the dough rest, covered. Anyone who's made bread or seen a bread recipe, know that this is so the dough rises up. Just like a further section of the song, rising up, constantly up. If we tie this to the political meaning I've seen people add to the song, this could also double up as the gestation of an uprising against politicians, or even the fake promises they make.

During the first part, her backup singers are huddled in a corner, and from there they scream at her "it's not enough". This is a perfect parallel to what I put in the first half of the analysis, about self-pressure, perfectionism and how they play a big part on modernity's declining mental health crisis.

In one part, Konstrakta uncovers the dough and just stares at it, along with her backup singers. They all stay there, perfectly still, like Mary watching Jesus in many religious imagery. They stay so still one wonders if something's really happening. As this section ends, a gate opens behind her as she adresses the "doctor", showing a white glow. This is the only time we get that the "doctor" is not really there, it's more like a self-reflection device. And this, once again, symbolizes the divinity amongst the profanity. Holy Modernity, mother of society. Once this happens, Konstrakta goes back to kneeading the bread. It's in the part where she talks about the need to go constantly up, putting up self-pressure and the anxiety of not being perceived as a perfect, functioning piece of society. It's a brilliant parallel.

As that section goes on, we can see one of her backup singers wave their white cloth around. The others stay perfectly still. This is also a symbolism of being the odd one out, how the one that's anxious and constantly on the grind is also frowned upon in some sense.

After the section where the singers tell Konstrakta to calm down, they start circling her while she keeps up her work. It becomes erratic and chaotic, just exactly as I had pictured in my head. Ultimately, Konstrakta is left alone on stage. Covering the dough once more, she claims "it's coming". The bread is coming. Modernity is coming. "Food" is coming.

I'm once again fascinated, throughly fascinated and thrilled by this woman's thought process. As I write this, I got the news she made it into the final! I'm so happy for her. March 3rd, I turn 26 years old. And it'd be the greatest early gift to see her win.

This was, indeed, new, better, and brilliant.

#konstrakta #novobolje #analysis #lyrics analysis #serbia #eurovision #pze #I love Konstrakta with all my being #This woman is a genius #I spent a solid half hour working on this listening to Novo Bolje on a loop #I really hope she wins #Novo bolje

[gela123]

A/n:This is a song-fic so ye,i posted this on my wattpad and Ao3 acc😀

Pairings:Larissa Weems x Reader

Title:

♥~♥♡SECRETS♡♥~♥

You were teaching the students about music,suddenly someone raised their hand.

"Yes Enid?" you said.

"Well didn't you said that you were gonna sing for us last week?" she said. Oh...right

"Yeah you did" Bianca suddenly said and every one agrees.

"Oh..uh" You stuttered unsure and a little bit embarrassed.

"Pleaaassseee"Enid pleaded.

"Well uh.. fine but what song?" You ask.

"I Wanna be Yours by Arctic Monkeys" Someone said. And everybody agreed.

"Full song?"you said.

"Yesss" literally everyone said including Wendnesday.

"Ok..ok.." You said as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

"I wanna be your vacuum cleaner

Breathing in your dust

I wanna be your Ford Cortina

I will never rust

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

You call the shots, babe

I just wanna be yours"

You sang and the whole classroom was quietly listening

"Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

Wanna be yours"

You sang the next lyrics but little did you know that Larissa was strolling through the halls inspecting every classrooms until she was near yours did she heard a beautiful voice. She got curious and peeked inside only to see you in the front and singing,she slowly went in trying to be  very quiet as possible.

"Let me be your 'leccy meter

And I'll never run out

Let me be the portable heater

That you'll get cold without

I wanna be your setting lotion

Hold your hair in deep devotion (I'll be)

At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean

Now I wanna be yours"

Some students were being your back up singers and that made you smile and open you eyes. You scaned the whole classroom sending your eyes at blue ones that were looking at you, you sing the next lyrics with confidence and directing your focus at her.

"Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

Wanna be yours

Wanna be yours"

Everyone was curious as to who you were looking at,they all followed your gaze and saw that you were looking at Principal Weems. They all gave there focuses back to you.

"I wanna be your vacuum cleaner (Wanna be yours)

Breathing in your dust (Wanna be yours)

I wanna be your Ford Cortina (Wanna be yours)

I will never rust (Wanna be yours)"

Students were slowly joining you except Wednesday ofcourse but you saw her slowly rocking herself from left to right as a sign that she was kind of enjoying this.

A soft voice was heard and it was Principal Weems,everyone was shocked even you as it was the first time you every heard her sing.

"I just wanna be yours (Wanna be yours)

I just wanna be yours (Wanna be yours)

I just wanna be yours (Wanna be yours)"

The song slowly came to an end,everyone clapped including you and Weems.

"Wow i never heard you sing Principal Weems" Enid said as the claps died down.

"Oh well.."Weems suddenly got embarrased.

"Well why don't we gave around of applause to our dear Principal Weems?"You say smiling.

Every one clapped and cheered thus caused Weems to be red as a tomato.

"Oh..uh hahaha um" She was stuttering.

"Miss [Y/n] why were you looking at Principal Weems when you specificly sang those lyrics" Wednesday asked.

Now it was your turn to go red. "Uh w-well" you stuttered.

"Ayiee looks like someone has a crush on Principal Weems" Enid teased you.

"Wha-!" you tried to protest but Weems voice cut you off. "Is it true Miss [Y/n]?" she asked.

"Oh look its already time, bye class you tommorow!"You said nevously as they all packed and leave.

When you closed the door you turn and saw that Weems was still here.

"Oh uh"you said. "Miss [Y/n] answer my question,Do you really have a crush on me?" she said as she starts to walk towards you. You start walking backward until your back hits the door. "Uh ok fine..Yes, Yes i do like you..Since a first saw you" you said as you looked away. She took her middle and index finger and place them under your chin and faced her back to you."I like you too" she said as she look to your eyes that are looking at hers already...wait-

Larissa Weems,Principal of Nevermore, has a crush on you!?

"Wait what?, you like me t-too?"you said surpirsed and she nodded. You wait anylonger and crashed your lips to her that were soft,softer that you imagined them to be.

The kiss was passionate,full of love.

You want to kiss her forever but you were running out of breath, you broke the kiss and both of you were panting,once both of you cathed your breathes you she walked backwards so you can be free, you walk towards her, she smiled and said.

"Miss [Y/n] meet me in my office later..." she said as she strode pass you to the door.

But before she left she look back at you and winked and she finally left...

A/n: Omggggg idk why i wrote this but it just came to mind 😆😆 

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal weems #brienne of tarth #miranda hilmarson #gwendolinechristie #gwendolineuniverse #principal larissa weems #gwendoline christie x reader #larissa x reader #idk why i did this #i was bored #Spotify

[almost-a-class-act]

Cocky motherfucker Haldane is so OOC but like 98% of fanfic is so why not have fun with it. He belongs on recruitment posters. He’s shirtless on the beach like Pam Am. He played football dontchaknow? Should I get a head wound scar? Should I write him a three page letter confessing my undying love and devotion? Should we all have some kind of joint therapy session discussing this company wide problem? Also omg hiii a mention of your post war haldane and his dashing scar. Bitches love head scars. Give him a kiss for me.

IK we all agree mr tussled locks gibson is literally the dilf of the series but him 10 years earlier + younger in Nuremberg makes me so fucking feral I use the 240p resolution upload on youtube as a test for ovulation because its more effective than Clearblue. He smokes. Hes tall and in uniform. He *smokes*. Im losing my last strand of sanity. Im begging for the shirtless fic. I could probs get you reference pics if you’d like. You know, for science.

I think a meth habit would be healthier than this - Hilldane anon

Hilldane anon, if I watch Nuremberg and Scott Gibson has like one line, I'm coming for you lmao. He is dead last on the cast list on Wikipedia. Will it motivate me to write several thousand unhinged words about shirtless Andy Haldane? Do you promise?

Good news - something I did watch today is the Pacific (all of it) so I am deep in my Andy and Eddie feelings. When Gunny gives Sledge the lighter, he had probably originally intended to give it to Hillbilly, maybe at the end of the war, right? And now there's no point in holding on to it? When Sledge is on the beach about to go in the water and he's rubbing the fabric of his shirt with his thumbs, do you think he's remembering Andy and the conversation about his dad making their uniforms and blankets? These are the things I cry an ocean of tears about.

Andy saying Eddie's name, twice, over his body like a prayer. (As it was pointed out to me by @aloraundomiel it's the only time we hear Eddie's real first name in the series.) No additional thoughts, just putting it out there because if I have to suffer, we all do. The way you can see on Andy's face how his brain is just turning over and over, trying to get traction. The pause before he gives the next order. (When having something to do, other people to be accountable before, is what grips the back of your shirt just enough to keep your head above water.)

Just wait until I write the Andy & Sledge fic while I listen to Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World over and over and over again in the background (So what would you think of me now? So lucky, so strong, so proud/I never said thank you for that; now I'll never have a chance). As soon as I write these fucking exams I am going to bury this fandom in Pacific fic.

#hilldane anon #asks

[2oosterr]

static meets orca

lieutenant commander eric 'static' reyton

wc: 0.7k

warnings: none

march 5th, 1999; somewhere in the pacific ocean

eric wouldn't call himself a nervous man; careful, maybe, but he doesn't scare easily by any means. but when he turns the corner and finds himself face to face with lieutenant orca, there's a twinge of fear that pulls in his chest.

frozen in place, he half considers turning around and finding a different route just to avoid her, but despite seeming to be engrossed in the aggressive mopping she was doing, orca still notices him. her eyes flick up to his through her furrowed brow, sighing harshly and gesturing for him to pass with a jerk of her head.

"go." she grumbles, pulling the mop to her side and resting her other hand on her hip. for a second, eric hesitates, still debating on running off, but she starts impatiently tapping her foot as she waits for him to move.

he wants to say something, to reassure her that he's on her side even if no-one else is, that she's not the only one. the words are on the tip of his tongue, but orca's fierce glare withers whatever confidence eric thought he had.

with as much respect as he could muster, he edges past her, trying his best to step around where she'd freshly mopped. he glances up, meeting her fiery brown gaze, and for a fleeting moment, she looked a lot more like a cornered animal than the untamed beast everyone said she was.

"hey, uh–" he begins, swallowing his nerves before the can get the bettor of him,  "for the record, i think you both deserved it."

"the fuck?" orca spits, the fury on her face reignited by his admittedly poor choice of words. "you think I deserve to be mopping the damn floors right now? you got some fuckin' nerve, boy," she practically growls at him, throwing her mop to the ground as she takes a menacing step closer.

"wait wait! that came out wrong!" eric sputteres, taking a quick step back with wide, panicked eyes, but she just takes another step, hands curling into fists at her sides. "i– i meant to say– he deserved to get punched, and you deserved to be the one to do it."

she stops, still staring him down with the same deadly glare that, for a second, narrows even more, and eric truly believes that he's about to get his nose broken too; but orca just scoffs, turning her back on him as he releases a silent breath.

"...there were better ways to say that." she mutters, pointedly rolling her eyes at him as she picks up the mop again.

"right, sorry. i'll think before i open my mouth next time." he replies, a tiny smile finding it's way to his lips as the tension diffuses. "i'm eric, by the way."

"yeah i know who you are, reyton. you're the one that always fucks up the radio." orca replies, returning to vigorously mopping the floors again as they talk.

"ah," an embarrassed grimace takes over his expression, and he brings a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck, "yeah, that's me."

"isn't that your whole job? i don't get how you can be so bad at it…"

"probably something to do with my–" eric pauses, eyes scanning the corridor for any other signs of life before continuing in a low mumble, "...enhancement."

this time it's orca that freezes, mid swipe with the mop, eyebrows shooting up as her gaze snaps over to him.

"you're…?" she gestures between them, conveying the question without speaking it aloud. eric nods, and she tuts at him. "why didn't you lead with that? i almost victimised you, dumbass."

at that, eric lets a real grin form. "like i said, not a great thinker."

"i can tell." orca huffs, something that he thinks might've actually been a laugh. she's nicer than he was expecting, even if it wasn't by much.

the sound of voices from around the corner interrupts the quiet, one of them eric recognises as their superior officer, whose errand he completely forgot he was running.

"ah shit, that's the commander," he mutters, already starting down the corridor when he calls over his shoulder, "see you round?"

orca rolls her eyes again and turns back to mopping, her icy facade seeming a lot less intimidating than before.

"whatever, blondie." 

#oc: static #oc: orca

[offside-the-lines]

tell me who i run to (if not you)

anthony beauvillier x genevieve gignac (OC)

key lyrics that inspired me under the cut

I Am My Own Muse by Fall Out Boy

We got to throw this year away like a Bad luck charm// I'm just trying to keep it together But it gets a little harder when it never gets better

Say Something Loving by The XX

You say something loving It’s so overwhelming, the thrill of affection Feels so unfamiliar// I feel it taking over. Before it slips away Don't let it slip away

Forces by Japanese Wallpaper

You’re feeling in your bones But you don’t act on it There’s something in your heart But you won’t talk, talk, talk about it// ‘Cause I’ve been thinking ‘bout it And I’ve been dreaming ‘bout you Won’t do a thing about this ‘Cause I don’t wanna ruin you

HAZE by 5 Seconds Of Summer

And when I open my eyes I hope to see your face // Got me feeling alright when the feeling’s long gone Got me feelin' uptight every moment you're gone

Put You Through Me by Arrows in Action

Am I supposed to let myself be everything you need So sweet, then leave? I don't wanna put you through me// If we end up going down this road You'll end up underneath my feet eventually

Talk Too Much by Reneé Rapp

I'm taking everything I see as a sign and I know it's crazy But what if it's right// I'm here again Talkin' myself out of My own happiness

Lose Control by Teddy Swims

Yeah, it's takin' a toll on me, tryin' my best to keep From tearin' the skin off my bones, don't you know// I lose control When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me) I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

Heaven’s Gate by Fall Out Boy

One look from you And I'm on that faded love// If there were any more left of me I'd give it to you And I'll tell you that I am fine But I'm a missile that's guided to you

All I Ask by Adele

So why don't we just play pretend? Like we're not scared of what's coming next// All I ask is If this is my last night with you Hold me like I'm more than just a friend Give me a memory I can use

Baby Annihilation by Fall Out Boy

Time is luck and I wish ours overlapped more or for longer

 Heaven, Iowa by Fall Out Boy

Twice the dreams, but half the love Be careful what you bottle up The chemistry is a mess, it seems But me, I'm still a sunbeam// I will never ask you for anything Except to dream sweet of me

Instrumental: Intro by the XX

Bishops Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy

Looking for pieces of broken hourglass Trying to get it all back As if the time had never passed I know I should walk away,  But I just want to let you break my brain And I can't seem to get a grip// The glow of the cities below lead us back To the places that we never should have left

 I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

Hold your hair in deep devotion At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean// Secrets I have held in my heart Are harder to hide than I thought Maybe I just wanna be yours I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours

 You’re On My Mind by Tom Misch

Please tell me that you feel the same That we're on the same train// Nighttime, and I'm thinking of you Each dawn of every day You're on my mind// You're all I can find You're on my mind

 Easy by Mac Ayer

I'd be lying if I said that You ain't on my mind Been tryin' to give it some time// Feelin' like I'm runnin' away Never had the chance, chance to say I can say that loving you is easy

Best Part by Daniel Caeser (ft. H.E.R.)

You're the coffee that I need in the morning You're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouring//You're my water when I'm stuck in the desertYou're the Tylenol I take when my head hurtsYou're the sunshine on my lifeIf life is a movieThen you're the best part

ILYSB - STRIPPED by LANY

And you need to know You're the only one//And you need to knowThat you keep me up all night//Oh, my heart hurts so goodI love you, babeSo bad

#tell me who i run to series #rox writes

[creacherkeeper]

i just thought about adaine&aelwyn pacific rim au so take that as well (if not those two, i'll take any of the others fh babes for pacific rim too :D)

the thing is, they don't get along

they've never gotten along

and why would they? their parents pitted them against each other since childhood. it made aelwyn study harder, strive more, accomplish, overcome, win, and all it ever did for adaine was make her rebel. while aelwyn was getting her phd in engineering and applied sciences, adaine was training. sometimes she felt like she'd been born for war. as a small child, she couldn't have guessed what it would be war with. but she knew who she was. she knew why her parents hated her. why they always favored the science-minded and, in their eyes, delicate aelwyn. she wasn't the one staging battles with her stuffed animals

adaine was the youngest to ever be accepted as a pilot. she was sure her parents saw it on the news, but they didn't bother congratulating her. she hadn't heard from her family since emancipating herself at 16, and that was fine. she had a new family now. and she had a jaeger

she gets sent to hong kong, because they all get sent to hong kong. everyone who's left. adaine wonders if she found her place right as the floor started collapsing beneath her. but it's fine. she'll fight until she's the last one standing

well, that is, if she can find a co-pilot

she's not as strong as a lot of the others. but they aren't as smart as her. they don't have her eye for strategy, for tactics, for precise strikes executed to perfection. they assign her the most light and nimble jaeger they have. and she waits. and she tests. and she spars.

no one seems to be a match

she has a good night of getting wasted with her friends, and then a good night of crying in her bunk, because she knows she's done. the whole program is falling apart anyway. it's not like they'll find anyone in time for her to ever see the inside of the machine

the next morning, hungover to hell and back, eyes puffy and exhausted, she makes eye contact with her sister over a tray of dry cereal and toast

it's awkward. it's not like they talked about being stationed together. adaine hadn't even heard from her sister in years. she wonders if this is aguefort's doing, bringing them both to base like this. she wouldn't put it past him. on the other hand, they needed new jaegers. and aelwyn knew how to build them

they avoid each other, at first. what else are they supposed to do? they did nothing but torment each other as children, and now here they are. all grown up. mostly. as much as they maybe ever will be, if the world is coming to an end

it lasts for a few weeks. things are tense. then aelwyn is assigned to make upgrades to adaine's jaeger, since, you know, she's being pulled from the project to be replaced with someone who's actually drift compatible. adaine won't leave the cockpit. they scream, a little. or a lot, to anyone else you asked. but it feels like it needed to happen. they've barely done more than nod in the hallways. it's a release of tension. they can be in the same room now, at least

adaine has one last chance to say goodbye to the machine she never got to pilot. aelwyn comes to offer some consolation, though it's with the utmost hesitation, something adaine doesn't remember her ever showing before. she snagged the last dessert from the cafeteria. they split it on the cockpit floor

"i spend all my time designing these machines. but i don't even know what they feel like"

"can i show you?"

so, adaine might be drift compatible, it turns out. with one person in particular. it's incredibly unfortunate that it's with a scientist, not a pilot. it's even more unfortunate that it's her sister

they fight about that, too, after they come out of the drift, while their minds are no longer melded and everything doesn't feel quite so achingly close. aelwyn was pulling away from her the second they linked. hiding something. adaine wanted to know what. so, they fight. they yell. they storm away

aguefort calls them to his office the next morning saying they have to drift again. just as a test. he reminds them about security cameras and computers and all the other shit that they had forgotten about over a split tiramisu

aelwyn refuses. she's not a pilot. she never wanted to be. and what would their parents say? like, okay, yes, of course she knows how they work. she knows everything about jaegers. she could pilot it, theoretically. but she won't. and especially not with her sister

two kaiju come through the breach

riz and fabian nearly go down. their jaeger literally crawls home. electrical scars run over the skin and muscles of their arms.

fig nearly destroys the base in frustration when their medic, kristen, says they can't pilot again. not so soon. maybe not ever. jawbone is getting older, no matter how much tracker would deny it in front of him. and gorgug and zelda can't handle multiple kaiju by themselves. no one could

ayda goes to aelwyn the next morning, scientist to scientist, pilot to ... something. and says she has to try. she has to drift again. she has to fight. there may not be a world left to save if she doesn't

they stand across from each other in the cockpit. they know there's no holding back, this time. no secrets. nothing left unsaid. and they drift

adaine sees shame, she sees self-hatred, she sees fear - such absolute, overwhelming fear. aelwyn sees anger, and in the face of it, resolve. she feels, then pulls away from, then lets herself feel, again, just for a moment, love in spite of that. it's hard to hide from, the enormity of adaine's love

they drift. and they know they can do it, if they need to. they can fight. they can win

the next day, the storm oracle is released into the ocean. they have a kaiju to fight, and even more to prove. and they do

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #adaine abernant #aelwyn abernant #the post: list 5 headcanons #me: okay but what if- #pacific rim au

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FOUR: SILENCE COMES AND GOES

Author’s note: Hello! We continue with this, I would like to thank everyone once again for all the likes and reblogs the story has gotten so far, couldn’t be happier! Enjoy (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.9K **

It is possible that Harry is ignoring the big elephant in the room, as he spreads some jam in his crumpet, well aware of Fernando and Jack exchanging knowing looks. He takes a bite of the savoury treat and hopes none of them dare to confront him, at the same time he wants to be questioned about why he hasn't called Alma yet.

Harry spent the last two weeks grumpy and frustrated.

He's called his therapist way too many times. He has no idea where he went wrong in his healing process. They were back to square one, whispered his tired heart.

Jack is surprised too, his friend got on so well with Alma at the party and apparently even went the extra mile asking for her number then he spent the following fourteen days acting as if she didn’t exist. Didn't even text her like Gemma suggested. He sips his coffee and sighs for the millionth time that day.

The musician is infuriated at himself and desperate that he wants to have Fernando demand an explanation for his behaviour towards his sister. Harry's not a confrontational guy, but he's going mad. Might be losing it. He wanted to scream at the two men before him that he did plan on calling Alma, but then he got so sad. Now he's afraid it's too late.

"Do you want another one?" Fernando holds the plate with crumpets in front of Harry who takes one more and thanks him before grabbing the jam. "Do you reckon you'll be man enough to call my sister within the next couple of days?" Harry chokes on his food while Jack's laughter booms through their home.

Nobody has ever called him out like that. Harry's still unsure whether to be grateful or scared. Maybe a bit of both he thinks after composing himself again from the fit of coughs, he knows Fernando is still waiting for an answer.

"Is she upset about it?" A hint of relief and pride linger on Harry's voice. Jack shakes his head, knowing that he's avoiding the question. Something he's very good at.

"That's not what I asked." Fernando's clipped tone leaves no room for the musician to beat around the bush anymore.

"I was really nervous about calling her, kept putting it off until days turned into weeks... I'm not sure how to go about it," he plays with his rings and looks away from the inquisitive gaze of his companions.

"How did you get Taylor to go out with you?"

"What?" Harry and Jack ask at the same time.

"You must've asked her I guess," Fernando shrugs. "What is so scary about Alma that puts you off? Are you interested in just a shag and you're worried she'll decline or tell the media about it?" Harry is shaking his head vigorously and the dark haired architect leans a bit closer towards him, "you're so full of sh-”

"Alright let's take a break," Jack's soothing tone brings his house mate back from the rage path he was following. But Harry knew that he was right.

It had been a year already, he moved to a new house, one where his ex never set foot into and still her ghost was everywhere. He has this crazy need to destroy everything that can relate to her. Her favourite cardigan is kept away in a box full of Polaroids and books that are all her.

The real reason why he didn't dare to call Alma is because whatever he felt at the beginning of his previous relationship, or any other one, was at least ten times less intense, than what he was feeling now. Seeing the menace before them, his heart and mind decided to leave him courage-less towards the situation. It's less painful to think what could've been than to know it and see it being taken away from you. Again.

But he deserves to be happy, that's what Gemma reminded him the other day.

"I gotta go," Fernando announces before rising from his seat, walking inside the house and upstairs to his room. Jack tries to tidy up the table a bit, not daring to look at his apparently mute friend. When Fernando comes back down he steps outside to the patio where they had brunch, one last glance to a very ashamed Harry and he sighs. "Brigit's Bakery Classic Afternoon Tea Bus. Alma’s been dying to get tickets but never has the time to actually book it," he explains adjusting his jacket's collar. "It's not too late." With that he turns on his heel and leaves the house.

Harry takes their mugs and places them in the sink, he notices Jack is going around the kitchen putting away the butter and milk in the fridge.

"What are you waiting for Romeo?" The blue eyed man asks, stopping in front of a blushing Harry.

They're both quiet for a minute. Harry's heart is racing and can feel his hands get clammy. He hasn't felt someone's faith in a long time, and he's not sure if he's happy or pressured that Fernando and Jack are pushing him to call Alma, he doesn’t even know if she will give him a chance. Harry's wishing to be the kind of guy to take out his mobile and make the call, maybe even crack a witty joke that will have Alma laughing in that loud way he remembers and not be awkward with asking her out on a date. As if he wasn't completely mortified by being rejected.

Harry was sure he would ruin it, not just the call but the date and everything else that was actually going to happen between them without even trying first.

"Hello?" She answers after the third ring, confused at the unknown number calling her.

"Yeah it's me," Harry nods to Jack who urges him to finish whatever sentence he's trying to form, "I believe I owe you some coffee."

"Harry?" Alma tries to fight back a laugh. A wide smile splitting her face after recognising who is the mystery caller.

"Yes! Sorry I forgot you didn't have my number." Jack is red with second hand embarrassment for his friend and decides to start the dishwasher just to keep his eyes from the train wreck happening in his kitchen. "I'm sorry for not calling sooner."

"You're calling now, 's all that matters... I'd love to get that coffee. Next Thursday works for you?" He nods feverishly and remembers he's on the phone.

"Of course, I'll pick you up at five if that's alright."

"Make it half past five please, that's when my shift ends. I'll text you the address." She throws the latter smoothly as an excuse to initiate conversation until they meet again and Harry is oblivious about it.

"Sure great, perfect I'm... really looking forward to seeing you," he plays with the tea towel on the counter, his back turned to Jack, a million butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he hears the coy chuckle his confession got out of her. "Have a good day, see you later."

"See you later, Harry" Alma's goodbye is full of hope and endearment, just like the one he got before she walked away from him that morning after Freddie’s birthday party.

After ending the call, he mentally scolds himself for dreading it so much. It went so much better than expected, even got a laugh out of her. Perhaps Harry needed to stop making decisions based upon his fears and more taking in consideration the other person. He always thought he knew best, it's what he's been told for so many years and although he needs to be making big choices most of the time, perhaps now he could share that responsibility. Felt dead nice for a change.

"That wasn't so bad." He admits to Jack before drying the now clean dishes with a towel.

"I'm proud of you, now tell me, where are you guys going for that coffee?" Jack's eyes are full of curiosity and excitement, it's impossible for Harry not to feel a chill go down his spine at the prospect of planning the date. He thinks about what Fernando suggested, but it would be too obvious that it wasn't his idea entirely.

Alma deserves something exclusively planned by him.

"Don't know yet, perhaps somewhere nice and quiet" he ponders and his friend agrees.

Last time Harry had a proper first date was about two years ago or so. He cooked aubergine parmigiana following Jamie Oliver's recipe and baked some biscuits for dessert that he enjoyed with his companion overlooking the Pacific Ocean from his home's balcony. Back then it seemed to be the right choice to keep it low-key, a simple dinner at his, no risk at all to be bothered or watched. But Harry knew that at some point it got old, being overly discreet was easily mistaken for being ashamed of the relationship. That kind of thing can do a lot to someone's confidence, little by little until it's all too much to bear.

If he could only learn not to care about the world's prying eyes.

Harry doesn't want to drag anyone into the scrutiny of the media until he knows it's an incorruptible bond. The inevitable thought of forever, something he believes might not exist for him, at times. He did think Taylor was it, even Kendall for a while, which is why he dated more publicly back then, until she came along and the love Harry felt was so grand it made him overly protective of them. Countless times he tried to explain that this was the first time something was working in spite of all the circumstances that came with his life and he was trying to cherish it, keep it to himself. Nurture it until it was as tough as old boots.

That night was spent writing down ideas for that first date. Number one was The river café, near Putney Bridge, a place free of paparazzi. Number two, Rail house café, lovely spot to share dinner. Number three The sanctuary café, located in a beautiful building with a quirky environment. Number four and his personal favourite Lola's bakery, their service was so warm and intimate, he remembers the cinnamon Chelsea bun and his mouth waters instantly. So, drawing a big circle around the fourth option he smiles before going to bed that night.

Saturday morning finds Harry at his grandparents’ old home, carrying a bag full of ingredients for a vegetarian lasagna he is planning to cook for his grandfather and his mum. He immediately banishes Anne from helping in the kitchen. She observed him follow the recipe, cooking for no longer than ten minutes the garlic, thyme and aubergine, and then crumble over the chilli carefully. He lets her grate the Parmesan when the sauce isn’t thickening and reducing like it was supposed to. With a bump of her hip, she nodded towards a couple of tomatoes, Harry smiled before tipping them in, breaking them with a spoon and five minutes later, the sauce was ready.

His mother is a marvellous woman, like the good son he is, Harry doesn't want to make her sad, ever. The last time he visited her, recently broken hearted, they spent it baking, cooking, eating sweets and drinking hot chocolate at the rear terrace. Once he had enough of moping around, he decided to make it up to her and create good memories from that visit. They explored the local parklands as if it was the first time, shared ice cream, got tipsy on cheap red wine and chatted from dusk till dawn.

A few hours later, after eating the delicious meal and tidying up the kitchen afterwards, Harry watches his mum talking to his grandad, holding his shaky hand in hers and caressing it in a soothing way. The elder man’s Parkinson is getting worse with time, he feels so useless, specially because it affects his favourite people. He wants to know what his mother is thinking when she joins him back in the kitchen. There is some anguish dancing in her kind eyes, but Harry knows better than to push her to share something she is not ready to.

"I have a date next Thursday," he chokes out, in hopes of distracting her, and it works. Anne's head whips towards her youngest child, evidently shocked and yet proud. It's been years since Harry shared that kind of information with her.

"A proper date?"

"Yes," he wants to add how nervous it makes him. "I dunno how serious it'll get... just met her once, properly I mean, we saw each other on the tube's carriage three times prior to it. Coincidentally of course, Gem said it is something straight out of a film."

"Who is she?" His mother is giving him that look, the one that says how giddy she is to know absolutely everything about the person that got her son so skittish, that he started to rearrange the containing of the cupboards entirely.

"Her name is Alma," he doesn't know where to start, if he spills all the ways in which he thinks she is wonderful, they'll end up pulling an all-nighter.

"And she's a...?"

"Cashier during the week, Spanish teacher on the weekends and occasional interviewer for her Youtube channel." Anne raises her eyebrows, impressed and wondering why such a busy girl agreed to go on a date. Must like him a lot of course, she thinks watching her son pour hot water on a mug, and dunking a tea bag in it afterwards.

"Where did you meet her if not on the tube?'' She is curious and weary. This wouldn't be the first time her youngest spawn overlooked certain things from strangers. Very little things in Harry's life were coincidences nowadays.

"Remember Jack Robinson?" his mum nodded, how could she forget the cheeky chap that helped Harry escape almost every night from his dad's house in the summer, just to go skate in Southbank's center until midnight. Anne admitted to not liking the bloke for a while, but gave him another chance after watching him grow into a responsible adult. "He's in charge of my home renovation, extension whatever it is called. Invited me to Freddie's birthday party and she was there." The dreamy look on his eyes when reminiscing the moment brought out a wide smile on his mum's face followed by her loud laughter.

"Oh Harry, you've got that look." it was the truth. He looked completely gobsmacked by his mother's reaction, but he couldn’t deny the peace he felt when knowing that she was already fond of the girl that he couldn’t get out of his mind.

"It’s too soon to tell!” He doesn’t want to dive into it, not yet. 

"How did you really meet? I want all the details." Anne asked, taking a seat at the coffee table and Harry told her everything.

From the first glance he stole her way to the last phone call he had yesterday at Jack and Fernando's house, his hands flew several times to tussle his hair and the dimple on his left cheek was exquisite, when telling his mother, how she asked him to dance with her. He spared no detail, from her intoxicating Moschino perfume to her raspy accented voice. By the time he finished, his mum's mug was empty but her heart was full. For so long she wondered if she would ever witness the beauty of Harry in love again and enjoy first-hand the way he spoke about that person in the sweetest manner, the high-pitched tone of his voice when finally admitting how nervous he actually was about this first date.

"Right, well in that case, stop thinking about how everything is going to go wrong." Easier said than done, Harry thinks but nods. "I'm sure whatever you planned will sweep her off her feet." Anne knew how much of a romantic her boy was, he went all out in that department. His best quality and Achilles heel.

"If the cupcakes from that place don't... I could literally do it." Harry plucks a banana from the fruit bowl before them and narrows his eyes when his mum rolls her eyes at him playfully.

His mother's reassurance made him feel less hopeless, the next day when they went to Sheffield's city center, she even picked out a couple of new mugs. 'Just in case we have new visitors at home.' Harry groaned but failed to hide the dreamy look in his eyes, he even crossed his fingers behind his back as he watched her pay for the cups. The thought of Alma meeting his mother in the near future —and the rest of his loved ones— excited him to an unfamiliar degree, like the first time he saw the seaside with his own eyes at a very young age, like that time he sang in front of a considerable amount of people, like a warm hug of his late grandmother. The idea that she may like him enough to agree to a second date is stuck on his brain, despite that they haven't even survived the first one.

Anne saw him enjoy himself the rest of that afternoon and the next morning before he had to go back to London. She sighed and watched him drive away, standing in her front door for a few more minutes, rejoicing on the memory of Harry's toothy grin. Usually she was careful and waiting for the other shoe to drop, but not this time. There was a bit of certainty in the unfamiliar situation, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, she decided to patiently wait and see. She hummed a familiar tune while putting away the new additions to her crockery. The same song her son decided to play on his journey back home.

Qué será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Qué será, será.

///

Let me know if you like the story! *** Join the taglist!

///

TAG LIST: @laurxn-robinson @mellamolayla

Next chapter

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles ou #harry styles series #harry styles oc #harry styles fan fic #a certain romance

[inglourious-imagines]

Brothers In Arms - part 1 (Robert Leckie)

Summary: You're sent as a professional doctor to the war in Pacific. You reunite with a childhood friend who introduces you to a man who'll mean to you more and more with each second.

Author's Note: If you haven't watched the hbo war serial The Pacific, you should do it now! It's truly a freakin' masterpiece. Also, there's no action yet but it will be! We need to get it going first :) Hope you enjoy! Let me know if you wanna be tagged in these.

.

.

.

It was almost impossible.

And to be honest, she didn't know how the heck did she managed to do it.

But there she was, ready as hell, standing on a ship that was heading to Guadalcanal. Not as a soldier, proper soldier but as a professional doctor. Of  course, she went through the combat training every soldier had to accomplish. She had all the skills every Marine had when they went to war.

She could already see the cursed island. At the beach, there were already some tents as the battle wasn't ending and the soldiers needed some base. 

She felt the blood in the air as well as the horror and fear. There was no way back now and she was determined to save as many soldiers as possible.

•••

"Come here, you shitheads!" Hugh Corrigan - standing next to her on a big wooden box - shouted. It was unbelievable what an authority he had between the soldiers, not just among  the H Company.

Within two minutes or so, it seemed like all the soldiers gathered around them with surprised expressions on their faces. No one knew what the hell was going on. If there's a woman standing in front of them or just a really really handsome boy.

"Okay! You might be confused why this young lady, Y/F/N Y/L/N is here. She's a professional doctor and decided to serve her country and save some of your asses!" Hugh continued. She raised her hand as a little greeting and smiled a bit. "But listen, you horny idiots! She's protected by law so if i see you or she tells me that some of you bother her, I'll fucking kill you before the Japenese even look at you! She also accomplished the combat training you all did in order to become Marines, if not better, so believe me she will kick your fucking ass if you try something!" Hugh warned them loudly and looked at as many soldiers as he could in the eyes to prove them he really is not kidding. "Is that clear?!"

"Yes, sir!" 

•••

Lewis Puller, usually called just Chesty, showed her her private tent and gave her some basic information. It was a late afternoon, something around 6pm so they'll get going tomorrow morning.

She was just going through her stuff when she heard Hugh's muffled voice: "Y/N? There's someone to see you. He says he's an old friend but I think that's a fucking bullshit."

She laughed to herself and put a cigarette between her lips as she walked out of the tent. "Then i have to see the guy who has the courag-" She froze in the middle of a sentence when she saw him. It was Lew Juergens, her childhood friend. "My god, Chuckler, is that you?" she breathed out and finally lighted her cigarette.

She'd always call him Chuckler back at home for no particular reason. Maybe because he was chuckling a lot and it wasn't any different from this day.

"It's so good to see you, brother." 

•••

"So this is Bob, Runner, Hoosier or Bill and Sid." Chuckler introduced her to his friends as they all gathered in their tent. "Nice to meet y'all, guys." she smiled at them and took a drag from her cigarette. "Is it just me or are we already in heaven?" Bob breathed out. His fierce blue eyes weren't scanning her body like she'd seen it with other soldiers and been making her slightly uncomfortable, but this time it was different. He was dirty and sweaty, just like everybody else, but his eyes were clear and beautiful - almost like the innocent and free ocean. But she could also see all the hidden pain, hurt and fear. 

When she was coming to the Pacific, she promised herself one thing - not to get attached, to anybody. And there she was, not even two hours after her arrival and she already liked all the boys she'd met so far.

Then there was her beloved Chuckler who she shared too many great memories with.

Other boys from his team who seemed so nice had been nothing but kind to her.

And then there was Bob, Robert fucking Leckie who had grown to her heart more than he ever should.

Part 2

#the pacific #hbo #hbo war #robert leckie #eugene sledge #chuckler #lew jeurgens #war #ww2 #pacific #joe mazzello #james badge dale #imagine #the pacific imagine #john basilone #runner #bud conley #hoosier #bill smith #snafu #rami malek #merriell shelton #bill leyden #sidney phillips #leckie #bob leckie

[queen-syko]

Misha Collins x Reader: Coffee

Author: Francesca Roman

Warnings: Cursing, Light Smut, Ignorance

Word Count: 2,000+

. . . .

It was a cool fall morning. My eyes flutter open as I hear thunder shake the whole house. Yet another stormy morning in Vancouver, Canada. I didn't want to get out of the warm comfort of my bed but I had no other choice. I had to get up and get ready for another wacky day on the set of Supernatural. I sat up in my bed, stretching my arms above my head then grabbing my phone off of the bedside table, putting in my password, then turn my wifi back on.

Immediately, notifications from Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter and my emails start filing through my screen as expected. I was fixated on my emails more than everything else because that's how I communicate with my work and coworkers (call me old fashioned). None of the emails caught my attention then my eyes traveled up to the time.

I felt my eyes bulge out of my head and quickly jump out of bed, leave my phone on my bed then rush into my bathroom which was connected to my bedroom. I started stripping my clothing from my body then turned on the shower. I have to wait for the water to warm up so I looked into my mirror and noticed I was starting to get a couple pimples on my face.

I huffed then took my toothbrush and squeezed out some Colgate toothpaste onto the bristles. I start brushing my teeth and tongue. I heard my cell start ringing and jogged over to my bed with my toothbrush still in my mouth. I pressed the answer button and held it up to my ear. "Hello." I muffled walking back into the bathroom to rinse my toothbrush and mouth.

"Hey Y/n, I know you're running late so don't even sweat it because I am too. How about I pick you up and we ride together so we don't have to get shitted on one by one?" I smiled as Osric's voice sounded through my speaker. I spit out the toothpaste and extra saliva into the sink and said, "Yeah sure, thanks buddy. Hopefully we won't get shitted on at all."

I rinsed my mouth with water then mouthwash as Osric went on about why we shouldn't get in trouble. "Okay dude, I gotta get in the shower you know where I live. Thanks, see you in a little bit." He laughed and said, "Okay bye buddy." Then I hung up and threw my phone on my bed. I got into the shower, cringing back as the extremely hot water runs down my body.

I adjust the water then begin to wash my hair and body. I shave my legs, accidently cutting my ankle from going to quick along my skin with the razor. I rinse my body and hair once more before washing my face to try and help with the acne problem. I shut my spout off then get out of the shower. I wrap my soaking wet body with a fluffy blue towel. I walk over to my closet and pull out a pair of black leggings and an over sized t shirt. I walk over to my dresser and pull out a pair of socks, underwear, and a bra.

I dry myself off and put a bandaid on my razor cut and put on my undergarments. I slide the over sized shirt over my head the put on my black leggings. I put my socks on then slide on a pair of brown boots. I grab the towel and dry my hair almost all the way. I brush it out of the way, into the nicest style I could come up with right now.

I grab my phone and bag the shut off my lights in my bedroom and bathroom then walked down my stairs. The weather outside was still horrible. Thunder and lightening was coming thicker with each passing minute. I hear a beep outside my house and open the door after grabbing a raincoat. I put on my coat and pull the hood over my head. I close and lock my door then run over to the big black suv. I oped the door and sat next to Osric.

The suv pulled foward and started driving down the street. "Maybe we should move in together since we're always late." Osric said looking at me. "Nice outfit by the way. Who bought you that t shirt?" I looked down at my shirt sighed. I forgot this shirt had I ♡ Misha on the front. "Shut up." I mumbled then laid my head against the window and waited for us to be dropped off.

About ten minutes later Osric and I walked through the set doors, immediately getting looks from some of the crew members. "Well look what the cat dragged in. Nice t shirt by the way." A snide voice sounded from the set in front of us. It was Hailey Spencer. She is playing as a guest star. She happens to be one of the girls I hated in high school. "Blow me Hailey. At least I look better than you for being late."

The words left my mouth before I could think. I heard covered laughter coming from the guys around me. Hailey didn't say anything she just glared at me and started talking to one of the stunt guys again. Osric and I parted ways. He was being dragged off to make up while I was being dragged off to wardrobe. I quickly dressed into Finley's clothing then walked over to hair and make up.

They restyled my hair then put on a quick coat of simple make up. It's not like we were filming a fighting scene where I needed fake blood and cuts. I had to film a scene with Misha today. I was nervous. I rarely ever film with Misha because we usually goof off and get yelled at and because I've got the biggest crush on him but I don't think he's noticed.

"Okay you're good to go girly. See you later." Geinie said as I got up and thanked her then left the make up station. I jogged over to the set where Misha and I needed to film. A director, some crew and Misha sat there waiting patiently for me to get there. "Hey guys I'm sorry I'm late. My alarm clock didn't go off. Let's get this going."

Misha smiled at me then looked at the director that was filming this episode. "I'm glad you finally got here. But yes, let's get 'this' going" John said motioning to the scene. "Marker! Episode 47. Scene 12. Take 1 and Action!" I heard a snap then the cameras started rolling. Misha quickly got into the famous character, Castiel and I had gotten into Finley. I leaned against the table and looked up at him. He was so handsome. He stated his lines and I said mine. This went on with many slip ups and goofy comments in between slip ups. We finished the scene and then we were dismissed.

I have a couple more scenes with J2 a little bit later so I walked over to the coffee table and started filling my cup with a hot brew. As I managed my cup with sugar and cream I jumped about a mile high when I heard a deep voice sound next to my ear. I almost spilled my coffee but didn't because coffee is too big of a deal to spill it.

"I thought you wern't going to make it." Misha said with a smirk on his perfect lips. "Yeah well I'm here so." I took a sip of the simmering Columbian brew and smiled. "I'm taking that's your first cup if the day?" I smiled and took another sip, nodding. "One of one hundred if I'm going to be working with J2 later." His eyes met mine and my heart fluttered.

His eyes were the perfect shade of blue. It's like I could see the whole Pacific ocean in those eyes. Misha waved a hand in front of my face and I snapped out of whatever trance I was in. I'm guessing he asked something because he was waiting for an answer. "I'm sorry I'm still half asleep. What did you ask?" I said staring into his eyes once again.

"I'm having a small party later to celebrate turning the big four 'o. Maybe you can swing by. I mean only if you want to. I'm not trying-" He started to ramble and I smiled. I cut him off by cover his mouth with my hand. "Sure, where is it?" I asked and he just looked amazed.

"It's at my apartment. It's nothing major just the guys, some crew. Gen might come with Jared." I nodded and took another sip. "Okay I'll be there, I gotta go run lines with Jensen. He said he would help me with this scene we're supposed to be filming today. I'll see you later Misha." He smiled at me and I returned the notion. I turned and walked out of set and over to Jensen's trailer. I gotta get myself one of these.

Later on that night it was about six thirty when we all finished filming. I changed out of Finley's clothing and into an extra outfit I kept in wardrobe and left my outfit from this morning in there. It was still pouring so I took my raincoat and put it on. I took out my phone and called for a ride to Misha's. He doesn't live that far from me.

So if anything I could just walk home from his after the party. The black suv pulled up and got into the front seat. "Hey what's up Rob?" He smiled at me and said, "Nothing really. Where am I taking you tonight Y/n?" I looked out the window as we started moving. "Misha's. He's having a birthday party." He said okay and we pulled out of the set area.

We pulled up outside of Misha's place and I thanked him and got out of the suv. He rolled down the window and asked, "Do you need a ride later?" I said, "No if anything I'll just walk. I live like down the street. Thanks Rob. See you whenever." We waved to each other and I walked into the building and rang the buzzer to Misha's apartment.

"Hello?" A deep voice pounced through the speaker. "It's me. Let me in." Immediately, he hit the buzzer and unlocked the door. As I walked though the door a voice from behind me came about. "Wait! Hold the door!" That voice. It was Hailey's. "Oh Y/n." She said as she walked closer to the door. "It's could close the door and lock you out."

She rolled her eyes and walked in after I did. "Whatever let's just get upstairs." I walked over to the elevator and pressed the up button. Nothing was said until we were closed in the elevator together. "I'm surprised Misha even invited you. Misha doesn't even like you." I didn't say anything and waited for this ride from hell to be over.

She spoke up again, "You know him and I are so close. We're practically together." That was when I open my mouth. "Hailey he is like twenty years older than you are. He could be your father. Just shut the fuck up and stop taking to me. You're fucking annoying voice is giving me a migraine." The elevator dinged and I brushed passed her and walked down to Misha's door with Hailey I'm tow. I knocked and the door opened up quickly. Misha's smile matched my own as our eyed connected.

"Come on in sweetheart." I smiled and walked through the door. Misha went to go close it when Hailey pushed it open. "Don't forget me!" Her high pitched voice said coming into the room. She brought Misha into a long hug. Anyone with eyes could see the discomfort in his soul. I sighed as she let go of him and kissed his cheek. She walked passed us and I just stared at Misha.

"Sorry about her. She knows I don't like her. I made that clear when she tried to kiss me on set two weeks ago." I nodded and my eyes connected with his. He held his arms open, waiting for me to give him a hug. "Can I get a hug from my bed friend?" Right, friend. I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was warm and strong. He smelled like watermelon and cinnamon. We pulled apart but not to the point where we let go fully.

Our faces were close. I could feel his minty breath on my face. He was inching closer. Out lips were about to connect but we're interrupted by the buzzer sounding right by our heads. I jumped a little and felt my cheeks become rosy. "You should get that." I backed away from him and smiled. He nodded. He had a faint pigment of pink laying on his cheeks too. He was adorable. Did I just call a forty year old man adorable? Fuck yes I did. Oops.

I turned away from him and slugged my coat off my shoulders. I took it off completely and held it in my hands until Misha came up to me and took it from me. "I can put that in the other room. Make yourself at home." He smiled and left me alone. I walked through the short hallway and could hear laughter and music coming from where I presumed it was the living room.

I saw Jensen and Jared playing darts, Hailey talking to Jared stunt, and some other crew sitting on the couches or standing around drinking and/or conversing with each other. I looked at Jared and Jensen once I heard my name being called. "Come over here Y/n." I smiled and walked over to the two younger men. I was only a few months older than them but Misha was two years older than me.

"What are yah drinking?" Jared asked throwing a dart at the board. "Got Red's?" He smiled and nodded. "Here, I knew it was your favorite so I stocked up on it." Misha said behind me. His hand slipped onto my waist and he handed me my favorite beer.

"Thanks Mish." It was already opened as I took it into my hands. His hand never left my waist. I sipped on my beer and felt myself leaning towards Misha. Jared and Jensen went back to playing darts. Misha and I watched as we sat on bar stools talking amongst ourselves.

Two hours had passed and Misha had his arm around my shoulder now. I wasn't going to complain because I was completely falling for him so why not let it happen? Nothing could ruin this right now. "Want another?" Misha asked pointing to my empty bottle. I already have four. If I went passed five I would be completely hammered. I smiled and nodded. He got up and stumbled over to the fridge and got out his and my favorite beers and stumbled back over to where I sat.

He popped them open and sat back down next to me, sliding his arm around my waist and bringing me closer to him. He was so cute when he was drunk. We sipped on our beers and just enjoyed each others company as we watched everyone mingle and party. Misha turned his head and laid it onto my shoulder, and into the crease of my neck. I froze when his hot breath hit my skin.

"You smell so good." He stood up and moved in front of me. I stood up as he set my beer on the counter with his and leaned down to nudge his face back into my neck. I felt him humming on my skin. He wrapped his arms around my waist until we were completely evolved with one another. My arms found their way around his shoulders, almost as if we were dancing. A nice calm song came on as I saw him look up at me. Our eyes connected. "Happy Birthday Misha."

I heard people leaving but I was too focused on Misha to care if I had said goodbye to everyone. I did see Jared and Jensen look at us then leave quietly while dragging Hailey along with them. The door closed and it was now just us, alone together. The music was going softer. J2 probably changed it before leaving. He laid his forehead onto mine. As he inched closer to my face my eyes fluttered shut. Our lips finally connected and fuck, I was so fuzzy inside.

Our lips moved in motion. We both were trying so hard not to miss the opportunity of receiving each and every breath of each other. His lips were like hot silk as they moved with mine. His hands roamed down to my ass, bringing me closer to him to feel his bulge in his jeans press to my stomach. He brought his lips down to my neck and began sucking and biting each and every unmarked area.

"Jump baby." He said grabbing my ass again. I jumped up and he held me to his body, his lips never leaving my neck. He brought us over to his couch and I straddle him. He moved my hair out of my face and kissed my lips softly. "You're so perfect." He said looking into my eyes. I smiled and pecked his lips once more.

"I-" He went to speak but i brought his lips up to mine and kissed him once more before pulling away. "What's wrong?" I asked holding him closely. "I have to tell you something if we're going to keep going." He said seeming very concerned. "What is it Mish? Is everything okay?"

I asked placing my hands on his cheeks. "Everything is fine but I just-" He stalled for a second, "I'm in love with you." I froze and just stared into his eyes unable to reciprocate a response. I just leaned down to his face and kissed his perfect lips softly. His lips moved with mine slowly. "I'm in love with you to Misha." He smiled and pulled me closer. "Really? You mean that?"

The thunder and lightening rumbled the windows. The rain wasn't letting up anytime soon and for once I was happy that I just couldn't run, it's not like I wanted to. "I'm really do mean it. I've been in love with you for weeks now. I just didn't think you felt the same. Clearly, I was wrong." He laughed and kissed my lips. Thunder sounded louder than before and made me jump. "I was thinking the same thing you were honey." I looked into his ocean blue eyes. "Why don't we move this to the other room?" I nodded and he lifted me up with him and started kissing me while moving to his bedroom. This is going to be one hell of a night.

.....

The light of the sun glared through the drawn curtains. The smell of watermelon and cinnamon filled my nostrils. I felt warmth on my back and Misha's arms wrapped around my body. His breath tickled my face as he held me so close. I brought my hand up to his cheeks and caressed it. I rubbed my thumb along his cheekbone. I kissed his lips and then nudged my face into his chest again.

He sighed and pulled me closer. His hand came up and started rubbing my back in circles. "Morning baby." He kissed the top of my head and hugged me closer until I could barely breath. I brought my face up to his and our lips connected once again. This was perfect. I noticed we were still naked from last night and I felt his chest rumble in a low chuckle. "Guess what?" He said looking at me. I hummed in a response. "We're late." I giggled and snuggled closer to him. "Just a few more mintues then we can start rushing around like chickens with our heads cut off." He laughed and kissed my lips once more.

Yup, perfect.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagines #supernatural one shots #Misha Collins #misha x reader #mishacollins #fanfiction #fanfic #SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfic #spn imagine #spn one shot

[privilege-archives]

MATHIEU SMYTHE ➝ THIRD SIBLING

I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN

❖ FULL NAME: Mathieu Emil Smythe. ❖ PRONOUNS: He/Him. ❖ AGE: 21. (April 13th). ❖ BIRTH ORDER: Third. Triplet to Second & Fourth Smythe. ❖ GRADE: Junior. ❖ MAJOR: Counseling Psychology. ❖ SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual. ❖ ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic. ❖ FACECLAIM: Grant Gustin.

I'LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME

[[TW for talk of eating disorder, anxiety, hospitalization]]

With fame and fortune being all he’s ever known, it’s no wonder that Mathieu has never really had to worry for much. His earliest memories are composed of flashing lights and people clamoring for his parents’ attention whenever they were out; although Mathieu wasn’t quite about to tell why things were the way that way, versus the lives he saw his friends and people on TV and movies lead, it wasn’t something he ever thought to question. Of course he knew that his mother and father’s professions meant that people looked on them differently than they did most others, and that – as one of their children – there was a certain amount of fame that came with that simple fact. But rather than wonder what it would be like to live a different life, a quieter life, Mathieu let things be. It was simply the way things were. Growing up, his natural disposition was one of quiet kindness and an insatiable wonder for the world and people around him. Though by no means extroverted, Mathieu was known to have a soft-spoken curiosity, and could often times be found reading to himself or striking up conversations with anybody willing to tell him a little bit about themselves, if only because he wanted to understand any and everything he possibly could beyond a surface level.

As he grew older, he kept his sense of curiosity, allowing it to blossom into a charm and charisma that was second nature to him. He still retained an air of privacy, preferring quiet and solitude over the loud raucous that seemed to permeate every aspect of his family, but he easily settled into an identity he’d set for himself: one with a fondness for learning and a desire to help. He was content to fade into the background of his family’s fame, though this desire was often times hard to achieve when he couldn’t so much as leave his home without wondering if it could somehow be used either for or against his parents.

It was around this age that he began to really grasp just what it meant to be a child of the Hollywood elite. The media’s eyes were constantly on his family and, by extension, left Mathieu feeling like every little movement he made was being picked apart and critiqued. Just that thought alone was enough to make him unable to sit still, feeling a constant itch under his skin telling him that he wasn’t supposed to be anything less than the absolute best, not unless he wanted his imperfections to be on display for the entire entertainment world to see. It wasn’t long before Mathieu started to crack, desperately trying to hang on to any sort of control he could find in his life. If anyone were to understand the world view Mathieu’s head began to manifest, they would say he had lost himself, and maybe in a way he had. His childhood wonder and curiosity still persisted, except now, instead of driving him to learn about animals, the deep ocean, cultures and laws and everything foreign to himself, it became a restless search for whatever he needed to do to become the best version of himself, lest he give he paparazzi reason to drag his familial name through the mud. Perfect grades, perfect body, perfect self- that was his goal, no matter what the consequences. It took a drastic toll on his body and mental state, both of which have never been able to reach the level they were at before his gradual decline. Mathieu was well aware that his new view towards eating and his own body was unhealthy. Or rather, it would be unhealthy if it were anybody but himself. He needed it though, and every time he looked in the mirror or saw a photo of himself, it only reinforced that thought more and more.

His life came to a complete stop when he was fifteen. One second, he was arriving home after his usual morning jog, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in the hospital with doctors surrounding him, using words like ‘malnourished’, ‘dehydrated’, and ‘anemic’. It wasn’t long before a few answers from his parents and an impromptu meeting with a psychologist that it was finally revealed the damage Mathieu had done to his body over the last two years. His parents immediately placed him in therapy, though not before word spread that one of the Smythe children had been hospitalized due to an “undisclosed medical need” and noting that the latest photos of him showed a rather obvious weight loss. There was little speculation that related back to the real reason, a fact that Mathieu found himself quietly thankful for. He did as he was told, hoping to maintain the family image and keep them happy, though with every pound he gained and every meal he finished, he hated himself more and more. By the time he was 17, he was up to a healthy weight for his size, though his attitude towards food and his workout routines were still cause for concern. Nevertheless, Mathieu did everything in his power to keep himself above the water. He graduated top of his class, and after a bit of deliberation about exactly what direction he wanted to go with his life, decided to attend Pacific State with a concentration in Psychology, hoping it would help him put the past behind him and ignore the constant thoughts that still plagued his mind. It also offered him a refuge away from the spotlight, and it was a safe haven that Mathieu’s younger self could have only imagined.

For the most part, being in college gave Mathieu a chance to rewrite his story. That was easier said than done, unfortunately. After receiving the final grades for his second semester sophomore year, Mathieu started to slip again. It isn’t to the point it was back when he was a teenager, when just walking up a flight of stairs, but his habits have definitely become less than ideal. Mathieu believes he has a wonderful control over it and that it won’t end up like before, and has refused to mention that he might be doing poorly again. Letting people find out about it before was what resulted, in his mind, in him starting to lose his control. This time, it’s not something he’s going to let go of so easily. He can control it, he know he can. Really, he has no choice in the matter.

BABY, THERE'S NO OTHER SUPERSTAR

Mathieu has spent the majority of his life finding the perfect combination of comfortable and stylish. Blues and greys are the main colors of his wardrobe, always keeping himself clean cut and dressed to impress, should he be leaving the comfort of his home. He likes to carry himself tall yet relaxed, hoping to give the impression that he is more sure of the world around him than he actually is. He has glasses, though he can often times be found opting for contacts instead. He has a tattoo on his left wrist, the symbol of the NEDA as a reminder to himself, though he puts quite a deal of effort into keeping it hidden either by long sleeves, a watch, coverup, or a combination of the three.

YOU KNOW THAT I'LL BE YOUR PAPARAZZI

Keaton is a crazy successful director, while Sariah is an equally successful actress.

#privmathieu #privsmythe