#I should stop looking up English Disney titles

[annislittleshopofhorrors]

Throwback Thursday 📻

Pandemic edition

[alwaysmarveling]

Socks

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: toxic relationships, small mentions of death, gaslighting, fighting, and miscarriage

Word Count: 4k (literally exactly 4k, I’m kinda proud)

A/N: Based on the song “1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back” by Olivia Rodrigo as suggested by @vancityfire13, I hope this meets all your hopes and expectations <3 also technically this is my first prompt from someone who’s not me??!

You met Wanda at the library. Your legs crossed, eyebrows scrunched, and bottom lip caught between your teeth, you’d settled in the familiar corner of the library's world languages section. That area was always quiet, which you’d found out after many trips to the library as a kid. When the occasional patron did wander through, perusing the shelves, sometimes they brought family or friends, weaving together sounds and syllables that had to be from another language. It was the only sound you’d tolerate while you were immersed in your reading. Well, to be fully honest, you loved it, wondering what the hushed voices were saying, what stories they were telling. So Wanda’s English was a jarring wake-up call.

“I like your socks.” Her eyes flashed to your ankles, leaving you wondering if she was more drawn to the sky blue color or the characters covering it.

You’d noticed the brunette walking the aisles about ten minutes ago. Unlike most, she ran her fingers along the worn spines, seeming only half-interested in what the titles read.

“Thanks.” Your voice was cold, unwelcoming. She gave you a terse nod before heading off, her footsteps silent against the worn carpet. You thought she was gone.

-

A week later, you were back at your spot. You’d finally finished the work you’d been putting off for weeks, just about to reward yourself with a reread of Little Women, a book you’d read an uncountable number of times since you were a child. She was an unwelcome interruption.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but-”

“I was looking for a book for my brother. His name is Pietro. Was Pietro. There was a Sokovian fairytale he always loved. Begged my mother to read it to us every night. He could recite it by memory by the time he was five, knew every word. I thought I did too.” Your eyes traced down the curve of her spine. Your mother would have scolded you for standing so poorly.

“I’m sorry for your loss” was all you said, your lips forming a tight line when you finished.

“I couldn’t- I can’t remember the title.”

“I can try to help you find it?” You weren’t sure why you offered, maybe the lost look in her eyes, the growing strength of her accent as she talked, or the way her fingers traced her empty palms. No one should leave a library empty-handed.

“Do you speak Sokovian?” The corners of her eyes creased as you shook your head.

“I suppose you won’t be much help then, will you?” Her words held no bite, only the sadness of a stranger who was trying to hold herself together, her emotions threatening to unravel her at the weakened seams. You matched her facial expression out of sympathy, but she was gone before you had a chance to apologize.

-

“Do you like Disney?” she had asked you. Her eyes were back on your ankles. You were wearing the same socks as when the two of you first met. You were milliseconds away from answering, your tongue already against the roof of your mouth, ready to shut down the conversation immediately afterward. But then you noticed the way her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers always moving, almost like they were dancing. You sighed. You should be nicer; she’d really done nothing wrong.

“It’s alright.” Your shoulders raised and dropped, your answer purposefully vague. “Did you manage to find the book?” The darkening of her eyes was enough to tell you that, no, she hadn’t found it. “What’s the main character’s name?” Her gaze followed you as you pulled out your laptop.

“Boleslav,” she answered finally. Her gaze was timid, unsure. Why were you helping her? You’d been so closed off before. 

“Do you know any major points of the story? The names of the other characters?” Before she could answer, you eyed the pillow that sat next to you. She took a seat.

The two of you poured over Google, eventually finding the story and its location in the library. But by that point, you were too wrapped up in your findings on the Internet to get up. Too wrapped up in each other.

---

Wanda insisted she make it up to you, for finding the book for her.

“For helping me find my brother,” she insisted, pulling you out of the library. If she was anyone else, you would have responded by saying that she could make it up to you by leaving you alone with your books, but she wasn’t anyone else. So you let her tug you out of the building, Mirabelle, the librarian, giving you a wink upon seeing you leaving the building with someone else, soft smiles gracing your faces.

You thought she would’ve brought you to coffee, but it seemed you hadn’t yet developed the ability to understand her. She brought you to the city, a small store on the corner. Socks lined the walls, the different colors and patterns flooding your vision.

“Your Disney ones looked old.” You half-nodded as you scanned the store, your hand going limp in hers. You remembered learning about rods and cones in class ages ago, not quite remembering what each one did but remembering that one of them was involved in seeing colors. Those—whatever they were called—must’ve been on overdrive.

You picked one pair for her, and she, one for you. You wore those socks constantly, slipping them over your feet the second they were out of the wash. You never told Wanda about it, but you didn’t have to; her eyes fell to your ankles every time she saw you, a small smile on her face. You didn’t know if you did it for her reaction or simply because you loved them. Maybe it was both.

---

Wanda drew you into her world. Some might have used the word “yanked” given how quickly your relationship moved. But that made it sound involuntary, as if she’d forced you to move in with her when she’d asked you exactly eight months after your first date. And if you’d known she had powers when you first met her, you might’ve agreed. Maybe she’d entranced you and now you were stuck with her, even if you didn’t really want to be.

But the truth was that you did, you wanted to be with her every second you could. And though magic never left her hands when she was with you, even her name was magic, the way those two syllables rang beautifully in the air as she formally introduced herself for the first time. She spoke English when she talked to you, but you swore that whatever left her mouth was a language of her own, so elegant, sweet, and charming in a way that no English speaker could replicate.

But, one night, her words twisted into daggers, punctuated syllables sharpening into dangerous ends, the beginning of each sentence like a handle she grabbed and used to hurt you further, twist until it was lodged as deeply into your chest as it could go.

You weren’t sure what you did to make it happen. Maybe it was just a bad night. She was drunk, after all, home from some party with the Avengers that you hadn’t gone to. The two of you had talked it over before, though, both agreeing that it was too soon in your relationship to attend anything where it’d be publicly released, which was why you were confused about why she was cursing you out for abandoning her, not being there when you needed her.

You promised that you’d be sure to go next time. Wanda just turned around, dismissing you without another word. You weren’t sure what was worse, the silence or her words. She somehow missed the tears that streamed down your face.

-

The next day, she knocked on your door. This time, she was the one in tears, the rate at which they fell only increasing when she saw how puffy your eyes were.

“I- I’m sorry,” she bumbled, the sounds tumbling out of her mouth like a barrel coming down the Niagara Falls. She couldn’t have stopped them if she tried. You watched her struggle through an apology, something about her insecurities being magnified as she saw all the other couples around her seemingly happy. She just wanted that. And even though her speech was much more clumsy than the usual effortless diction you were used to hearing from her, you allowed her words to draw you in, provide you shelter from the horrors you’d experienced yesterday, when your heart raced and blood rushed your ears and your palms were so sweaty you couldn’t get a grip on anything. You allowed her arms to draw you in, make you feel safe. You allowed her to bring you home.

---

Wanda saw a side of you that no one had ever seen before. Scratch that, Wanda saw all of you. Where others would’ve looked away or missed the true meaning of your words, she dug deeper. You lived your whole life with a mask on, swapping one out for another to appease those around you. Wanda took them all off.

But she didn’t force them off; she made you want to take them off. You were the one who peeled them off one by one, the experience being extremely unnerving every time you revealed that much more of yourself to her, but you always found yourself relieved at the end. Because she accepted you, she loved you.

Right?

---

You called her once, during a mission. It was something the two of you had been doing ever since you started dating. You would ask how she was doing, make sure she was okay, and she’d do the same for you. Of course, when her missions were off-the-grid you didn’t call, but if the two of you were allowed to stay in contact, she insisted that you guys do so.

“I have to make sure my love is okay,” she’d murmured, just before she left for her first mission since the two of you started your relationship. She was holding you in her arms as the two of you swayed back and forth. Your feet were bare for once, the cold kitchen tile underfoot grounding the both of you. Neither of you had wanted to let go; your hands were clasped firmly together around her waist, and hers rested on top of yours. But eventually, the incessant honking from Tony became too much, and the two of you reluctantly moved apart.

“I’ll call you the second I can, yeah? And make sure you call me in the morning when you wake up.”

“I will,” you nodded as Wanda’s hand came up to brush against your cheek.

But somehow she’d forgotten about your agreement, and nothing but annoyance filled your ear, the phone pressed up against it.

“Y/N, I really don’t have time for this right now.” You sucked in a breath, her tone an instant reminder of that night she’d yelled at you. But that was so long ago. And you hadn’t done anything; there wasn’t a party you’d missed since then, not a moment since then that you’d let her feel alone. Or was there?

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “Should I call you back later?” All you got was a sigh, doubt and panic filling your chest in the momentary silence.

“We’ll see. Goodbye, milaya.” There was barely a pause in between her voice and the disconnect tone. You weren’t sure if the pet name was sincere or a habit leftover from the good times.

Were you still in the good times?

What went wrong?

Where did you go wrong?

-

She came back from the mission, and all was well again. She spun you around and around, her melodious giggles filling your ears and causing the corners of your mouth to lift. But you couldn’t help your brows from cinching inwards, wondering where this Wanda had been when you’d called. Was it just another fluke, or maybe something you’d imagined?

“I love you, printsessa, so, so much,” Wanda whispered. You loved the way her smooth voice filled your ears, made you feel whole again. Maybe it was the kitchen? Was that the place she felt safe, the place where she felt like she could love you fully? Maybe that’s why she seemed so closed off during the mission. When you didn’t respond, too lost in thought, she spoke up again.

“Detka, d’you know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her eyes sparkled. No red mist emerged from her fingertips, but you swore Wanda’s essence was magic in and of itself. How could you ever deny her?

You surrendered.

“I love you too. More than anything in the world.”

---

The next day, Wanda woke you up with excitement filling her voice, insisting that you come with her to the compound to pick up some of the things she’d left behind. 

“I want to show you off,” she’d laughed as she rolled you over.

“We’ve already met, babe. They love me, you’ve said so yourself,” you groaned. She shook her head as she corralled you into the bathroom.

“You haven’t met all of them! Now c’mon, let’s go!” You agreed, and she was right, there were lots of new people there.

“You must be Y/N, right?” You nodded as you shook the man’s hand.

“I’m Clint. I’ve heard, um, lots about you. And your socks.” The two of you laughed at his joke, but something about his chuckle was off. His smile never quite reached his eyes. Wanda whisked you off too soon for you to figure out why though, bringing you over to a rather large man. No, god, he’s a god. Thor, he said. His name is Thor.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you’d responded.

“The love of my life,” Wanda sighed, her voice wispy and dreamy. The god’s eyebrows had raised at that.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you then, Y/N. I didn’t know Wanda was so fortunate as to have a love so strong.” Sometimes you had to remind yourself of that too. “You are very lucky, my friend.” Am I? 

-

You exchanged jokes with Natasha, learned of some of Bruce and Tony’s new projects, listened to stories of Thor’s childhood adventures on Asgard; the night went well. Until it didn’t.

You were yanked into a mostly empty room, the door quickly shut behind you. Was that a flash of red you’d seen in the corner of your eye?

“What did you do?” someone hissed. The voice was familiar, but by this point, you weren’t sure if it filled you with dread or joy when you heard it. Was that part of the excitement of your relationship, trying to figure out the complexities of it all, trying to predict which version of your lover you’d get this time?

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I didn’t do anything, Wanda, I swear!”

“Then why is Clint telling me to break up with you? What did you say to him?” Your head shook, your whole body shook. This was news to you.

“I didn’t say anything. Please, Wan-”

“How am I supposed to believe that, Y/N? Do you really think he’d just make that up out of nowhere?” You tried to find the words, the ones you should say, the ones she’d want you to say. You had nothing. The witch’s anger grew, her hands slamming down on her sides. “God, Y/N! It’s like sometimes I don’t even know who you are!”

But wait, that was how you felt. Wasn’t it? Or had you dreamed that up too? What had you done?

“Wanda, I promise I didn’t do anything. I’ve been friendly to him all night.”

“So you expect me to believe he’s lying, then.” Your eyes fell to her chest, its rise and fall rapid but deep, going up and down several times before she spoke again. “Y/N, he named his child after my brother. Why would he lie to me?” You could do nothing, say nothing to fix this. You weren’t sure exactly what you did, but you’d messed up. Again.

“Maybe he’s right, then.” Her hand ran through her hair, the brown locks that you loved to twist around your own fingers, play with as she laid in your lap, a show playing in the background. You missed those times.

But weren’t you just doing that last night?

You weren’t sure. It seemed like so long ago.

---

Weeks, months, even a year passed. Wanda had apologized for that night at the compound. She’d also apologized for the countless number of other times the two of you had fought since then. But it was okay, you’d thought, because for all those arguments was an equal number of moments where the two of you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe, slow-danced at 3 AM, used your hairbrushes as microphones to sing concerts for your millions of fans. At least, you thought it was an equal number. Did number matter anyway?

Wanda went from being your girlfriend, to being your fiancé, to being your wife. Like Thor had said, you were “very lucky.” You are very lucky. Because right now, you’re looking down at the stick in your hand, and there are two lines, not one. The two of you had done something so many couldn’t; that was a huge blessing. And now you had to tell Wanda.

Finding the box was harder than you thought, but the other part was much easier. All you had to do was go to the store Wanda had taken you to all that time ago, the small store on the corner. And when the brunette lifted open the lid to find a pair of socks so tiny they could only be for one thing, one person, one baby, she knew. She was ecstatic. You were relieved.

-

Four weeks. Four weeks later from that day was the worst day of your life. Just as quickly as the baby had come, it had gone. He or she was gone. Was it your fault? The doctor had been quick to shut those thoughts down, insisting that there were many factors that could’ve caused the miscarriage, but you certainly weren’t one of them.

But Wanda didn’t talk to you for a whole week, spending the nights in the guest bedroom to avoid you. It was the longest the two of you had gone without speaking. That had to mean something, right?

It did. It meant that it shouldn’t have been a surprise when you came home from work the following Monday to find half of the things missing. All of her things.

The box was still there, though; you saw it out of the corner of your eye. It sat on top of a cabinet, the two socks poking out of the top.

The two of you had fallen in love with those tiny socks faster than you’d fallen in love with each other. They held so much love, so much promise. But now they were empty, devoid of anything they might’ve held just hours before. They were nothing more than a painful reminder of what could have been, what should have been. Meanwhile, your own socks were still on, the same ones Wanda had given to you on your first date. You weren’t sure you could take them off if you tried. Was that a reminder too? Did it have significance?

The ticking of the clock suddenly caught your attention. You had been standing at the doorway for thirty minutes, but what were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to go somewhere? Where would you go? Wanda was gone, not leaving any clue as to where she could’ve run off to, and you were alone. 

When was the last time you’d been truly alone?

Didn’t you use to like being alone?

You grabbed your keys. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but whatever it was, you wouldn’t find it here.

-

You push open the door, always the one on the right. Walk twenty or so steps through the entrance, turn left. Take another left, then walk-

It was different. Completely different. The shelves weren’t the same color, metal had been swapped for wood, the carpet was new; what had happened?

“Y/N, sweetie, is that you?” Mirabelle’s voice. At least she was still here. You turned to face her, taking in her wrinkled face, the tortoiseshell glasses that had been perched on her nose since you met her as a child. “Oh my goodness, it is! We haven’t seen you in ages. We were all so worried.”

“Wha- what happened to the library?” Her kind smile flipped, her lips separated with their corners turning downwards.

“We got a renovation at the end of last year, honey. Didn’t you see it on the news?”

“Right,” you nodded, swallowing again, trying to push down the lump that had been growing in your throat for over an hour. “Um, where’s the world languages section?”

“Upstairs, love. Take two rights and you’ll see it. Enjoy your visit, okay?” You nodded again, pressing your lips into a wavering smile that Mirabelle accepted.

You found the section easily enough, pushing yourself into one of the beanbags that crowded the floor. It was quiet—you supposed not many people came to the library on a late Tuesday afternoon—but something was missing.

No, that wasn’t it. Nothing was missing. Everything had changed, and you couldn’t settle yourself no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t recognize the white walls or the large windows that surrounded you. You couldn’t recognize the book in your shaking hands; the title read “Little Women,” but it lacked the comfort and familiarity it once brought you. You couldn’t recognize the artwork that hung on the walls, the large signs suspended from the ceiling.

You caught a reflection in the shiny metal of a book cart that lay several feet away from you.

You couldn’t recognize yourself.

When you finally left the library, Mirabelle frowned as she watched you exit the doors, not stopping to check out a book like you always did. No one should ever leave a library empty-handed. You’d forgotten that too.

---

She came back less than a week later, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes rimmed with red as she stumbled her way through an apology.

“It was a mistake, detka, I promise. I made such an awful mistake, and I’ll never forgive myself. I won’t blame you if you don’t forgive me either.” You stared at her, neither your eyes nor your mouth moving as you tried to take in what she was saying, tried to come up with an adequate response.

Which had changed more, the library or you?

“Please, you’re the only thing that matters in my life. I can’t lose you.” The melody of her once-full voice was broken, the chords fragmented and notes falling out of tune. It was as broken as you’d felt for the past few days. Maybe she understood. But you couldn’t think anymore because you were suddenly in her arms again, her tears soaking your shirt as she sobbed.

The library had been renovated, its modernity and welcoming environment being a major improvement to the once somewhat dilapidated building. You had slipped, your feet wrapped in the socks Wanda had given you as you stumbled down the dark, crooked hallway of your life, trying desperately to get a hand on the wall, grab a solid footing.

You had two options: save yourself or fall.

“Please, Y/N, please. Promise you’ll stay.” 

You fell backwards, your head being the first to slam into the floor.

“Of course I’ll stay, Wan. I’d never leave you.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get up. After all, changed or not, what’s a library without its books? Who are you without her?

-----

🏷 : @007giu

[sprnklersplashes]

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending) 

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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

By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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

“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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

She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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

Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black.  She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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

“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

[nancylou444]

Nothing wrong with being older and being a fan of a show and still having a tumblr up. But come on, you must be in your 40´s perhaps? And you are sitting on your ass, seeing romance in two BROTHERS. I´m pretty sure you´ll get all furious because of this rant because you don´t know what to answer. You will probably judge my "bad" english, me coming at your age, or me basically exposing you. Get a life, job, I guess it´s too late to get children tho, but grow up. Stop arguing with teenagers.

**cracks knuckles**

Nothing wrong with being older and being a fan of a show and still having a tumblr up. Oh thank you anon, for allowing me to keep this tumblr. I was already to delete it but now that I have your PeRmIssION, I’ll stay. 🙄

But come on, you must be in your 40´s perhaps? Actually I’m older, but it’s just a number. 

And you are sitting on your ass, seeing romance in two BROTHERS. Where else would I be sitting? On my head? Yep, fifteen years and assholes are still attacking my ship, that NEVER gets old.  🙄

I´m pretty sure you´ll get all furious because of this rant because you don´t know what to answer. Yeah, that made perfect sense. 

You will probably judge my "bad" english, me coming at your age, or me basically exposing you. ‘English’ should have a capital ‘E’. How have you ‘exposed’ me? 

2013:

2021:

Different, avatar. But the same title. WINCEST is right there, so there is nothing for YOU to expose. Except that you are an idiot, but that was obvious from your first sentence. 

Get a life, job, I guess it´s too late to get children tho, but grow up. Right, says the jackass with so much time on their hands they can annoy me. Why don’t YOU grow up.

Stop arguing with teenagers. Maybe teenagers should act like adults when they are ON AN ADULT WEBSITE. Otherwise they should stick to disney. 

Now it’s my turn:

Wow, you spent a whole HOUR on my blog. Let’s see what you looked at. 

Obviously you had no idea what you were doing. No other explanation as to your fascination with this post. 

What’s also obvious, is that you are a minion who was greatly offended that I dislike the man. Tough titty. 

Not sure why you looked at my other ffnet account. Or why you looked at My Dad’s tag. Then again, you aren’t the sharpest tack in the box. 

After typing this word vomit, you figured I had nothing else to do but answer it. Then got bored waiting, I guess. 

Sucks to be you. 

[ishouldbestudyingprobably]

Hey uh- could i request another barley x reader? the previous one was so cute! maybe some sort of date night one-shot? whatever you chose!❤️

Thank you so much for requesting!! I’m gonna become the CEO of Barley fanfics LOL! (I’d gratefully take that title tho)

To put you on a bit of context, this takes place AFTER the movie unlike my previous one-shot, of course I’ll try to keep it as spoiler free as possible considering the movie is going to come out to Disney + in just a few days and some of you haven’t seen it yet, but maybe I slip something so, please beware.

Also, I have been reading more fanfics in English recently and noticed they are written in a you-did-this-and-said-that way instead of how we do them in Spanish; I’ll be continuing to them in my way unless you guys tell me it annoys you or something.

WELL, SORRY FOR KEEPING YOU WAITING, LET’S GET TO IT! ALSO THIS IS SO LONG SORRY--

(Y/N) definitely had no idea how she ended up on the Lightfoot’s home. Now, listen, it’s not that she didn’t like them ‘cause she as hell did it was just confusing considering a few hours prior to that she was just walking around the neighborhood.

“Ian, come on! Show her your magic!” Barley was having a hard time since he was trying so hard to make his little brother show the girl how his magic worked and poor Ian was shy about it, sure his confidence had been boosted but, come on, that was way too much pressure.

“Barley it’s okay, really, I believe you. I bet it’s amazing and you guys make an incredible team together. Let Ian go.” the girl chuckled seeing as the smaller elf smiled thankful and made his way out of the room feeling relieved.

“What? No! Ian get back here!!” see, the boy with a cast on his arm was hoping to use his brother as an excuse to have the female the longest time possible by his side, he was definitely going to ask her on a date but needed that boost of confidence being in a room with people gave.

Although now that they were alone he wouldn’t lie saying it wasn’t enjoyable, but soon that intimate moment of piece was to be broken by the young girl standing up making the bed rigid on the side she had been sitting on.

“This was... fun. But I really should get going home, my family would be worried plus it’s lunch time and... You know.” (Y/N) tried to excuse herself as politely as possible seeing as how she didn’t want to give the impression she wasn’t having fun and didn’t enjoy the presence of the older son of the Lightfoot’s family. Barley soon realized he had to jump now and ask her out or he’d never get the chance to. “Would you like to meet me? Alone? Maybe drive around, have dinner...” the boy put on his widest smile as if that were going to make her accept his invitation.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Are you... Asking me out? On a date? Tonight?” the girl replied trying to hide her grin while putting a strand of her voluminous hair behind her pointy ear which had efficiently caught the male’s attention. “I wouldn’t call it a date, more like a quest to make you fall in love with me because I totally am and it would be pretty cool if you did as well? But, you could always call it a date, I wouldn’t correct you even though you’re completely wrong.” that was enough to make the small elf chuckle which made Barley’s heart skip a few beats.

“It’d be a pleasure to help you complete this quest oh-so-awesome Barley Lightfoot. How about 8? No need for formal clothes, quests don’t require suits or dresses.” now it was him who was chuckling, how couldn’t he? His friend had never ever ever played his favourite roleplaying game yet always tried her best to make as much references to it without completely failing at the process, it was adorable. “8 sounds amazing. Farewell, oh-so-cool-to-play-games (Y/N) (S/N).”

And so the time came and the bell started ringing; one, two, three, four times and just as the fifth was about to made itself present the girl rushed to the door “Okay, okay got it! I’m coming!” grabbing the door handle she opened it revealing the young elf wearing a suit -well, a modified one since the sleeves of his jacket were completely gone and decided to wear jeans with the suit, formal for sure- contrasting with her usual clothing. “We said no dressing up!” the boy just shrugged and clearing his throat he moved to the side revealing Guinevere 2 in all its glory. “Shall we get going?” the girl smiled and gladly accepted getting out and making sure to close the door.

They made their way to the van and Barley hurried to open the door of the passenger seat bowing as his friend got inside and closed the door trying -and failing- to hide his smile. As soon as they were both seated the boy opened her mouth and took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “So, (Y/N)... I hope your ready for our quest because I’ve been planning this all day!” slowly the boy opened the folded paper showing a drawn map of different places in Mushroomton that he thought would be of interest and appropriate for a date surprising his companion in the process. “Did you realy do that? That’s so impressive…” the male just smiled and motioned for her to hold the map and turned on the engine.

“Now my incredible partner, tell me, which is the first stop?” he couldn’t help the excitement his tone glad everything was going according to plan at the moment.

“Uhm, well, the exciting-full-of-teenagers house of fun?” what kind of name was that? The drawing didn’t really gave much about the place either, not only because his art skills weren’t exactly… Clear?

But because he modified them to be fitting on the Quests of Yore world. “Heading there!” and just like that the car drive began. They both were constantly talking and joking, it may have been a date-quest thing but after all they were still friends, why would they be quiet?

When they finally arrived to the place she got out the car excited to see what it was about and found a luminous neon sign indicating the entry to the arcade.

“The arcade was the exciting-full-of-teenagers house?” again the elf just shrugged grinning which made the female roll her eyes. “Amazing! I’m actually thinking this is going to be the greatest day of my life…”

What can I say? Videogames were definitely something they both were extremely good at and that sparked a tiny competition between them. Driving games? You bet! That knock the clown game that’s always typically seen in carnivals at those cheesy romantic movies? Yup! In the end they decided to count the tickets each one got to decide a winner.

“I’ve got… 238 tickets, how about you, Lightfoot?” the boy didn’t seem happy and (Y/N) soon knew he was dreading his defeat. “I got 197....” mockery could be heard from the female’s lips before they cut off the rivalry and decided to combine both of their tickets getting 435 tickets which were enough for…

“A unicorn rubber?!” the girl sighed as they were gettin in the car again. “I hate this stupid games, they’re fun but you alway have to win around a billion tickets to actually WIN something.” she continued ranting, something Barley found really entertaining but cut her off mid sentence as they were running out of time. “When did you have to get home?” it effectively cut her off. There was a small silence

before she could respond “Around 10 I believe, you know how they are…” he just nodded and looked at his watch; it was 9:17 meaning they had to do a shortcut on their plans.

“Okay, we’re runnin out of time, skip the following two places and tell me the next one after them.” she did as asked and traced the drawn road with her fingers. “It says brainwash.” an odd name for sure.

“Brainwash it is.”

Of course, brainwash was referring to movies, they were going to watch a movie specifically a drive in movie, is there anything more romantic than that? No.

“Barley… This is so sweet, thank you! What movie are they playing?” turning her head towards the giggly boy she asked nothing but amusement in her face. “No idea. I’m gonna go grab popcorn, make yourself comfortable on top of Guinevere 2, please.” just like that he was gone and (Y/N) had a new adventure, finding the way she could get on the van’s roof.

After a while Barley got back with a huge stack of popcorn finding her loved one on the roof, smiling to himself he admired all of her features. Soon he got on top shaking the oh-so-special van on the process. “Here’s the popcoooorn!” he announced with an excited tone and put them between him and the girl.

The movie was ten minutes in and no noise was heard but the sound of chewing popcorn. Leaning in the female asked in the boy’s ear “Do you like this movie?” he replied in a whisper “No it’s so boring.” that’s when they both started laughing being shushed by the cars around them. “Let’s get out of here. We still have twenty minutes left.” Without bothering to take the popcorn they both walked north finding a calm forest where they laid on the grass looking at the sky. “So, Barley, is it true? That you like me?”

That was a very direct question he definitely wasn’t prepared for “Well, of course it is! You’re an incredible girl, an incredible friend and I bet you’d be an incredible girlfriend!” the girl chuckled making Barley’s heart melt. And then, he asked “Do you like me?”. Silence hurts, so much, but before any assumption could be made she replied “Yes, of course I do.”

Silence again.

“So, have you completed your quest now?” (Y/N) curiously asked. “I still have one more thing to do.” and, the kiss came.

QUEST COMPLETED.

Oh boy was that long... Hope you enjoyed your request and for everyone else, request! Don't be shy!

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@ferox-imagines @s-ferox

[lightoftruth]

The Walt Disney Corporation has been allegedly holding extensive critical race theory training for employees.

Internal documents obtained by Christopher Rufo, a senior fellow at Manhattan Institute, show Disney launching a “diversity and inclusion” program called “Reimagine Tomorrow.” The trainings discuss the leftist ideas of “systemic racism,” “white privilege,” “white fragility,” “white saviors,” “microaggressions,” and “antiracism.” The subtitle of the booklet guide reads: “Allyship for Race Consciousness.”

Disney, which owns ABC, ESPN, Touchstone Pictures, Marvel, Lucasfilm, and other major media companies, instructed employees to “take ownership of educating yourself about structural anti-Black racism” as well as “not rely on your Black colleagues to educate you,” which would be “emotionally taxing.”

“When America’s storied places of joy and refuge from the cares of the world turn themselves into partisan actors and political indoctrination factories, the harm to our social fabric is immeasurable,” Stanley Kurtz, a senior fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center, told The Federalist. “Disney is dividing the country it once helped to inspire, inviting entirely justified blowback from the vast number of Americans it now derogates, disregards, and caricatures. I thought politicized baseball was the unkindest cut of all, but now this. As Disney and other woke corporations plunge America into the bitterest cultural conflict in memory, they deserve to feel shame, not pride.”

The  training modules centralize the notion of “anti-racism” — the idea that Americans must acknowledge their country is systemically racist and eradicate any semblance of a colorblind society. The company told employees they must also “work through feelings of guilt, shame, and defensiveness to understand what is beneath them and what needs to be healed,” harping on the notion of implicit bias. The phrase “All Lives Matter” was communicated as derogatory, and so was the phrase “I don’t see color.”

One module in the training titled “What Can I Do About Racism?” instructed staff to denounce the idea of “equality” and instead favor “equity.” The corporation crafted a “21-Day Racial Equity and Social Justice Challenge” that was followed by a “white privilege checklist.” The checklist claims a variety of statements, if affirmed, indicate a person’s “privilege.” This includes some of the following statements:

I am white.

I have never tried to hide my sexuality.

I am a man.

I have never felt poor.

I went to summer camp.

I have never had an addiction.

Below is the full document Rufo obtained from a Disney whistleblower:

In addition to other modules, employees were provided several outside resources. This included a guide titled “75 Things White People Can Do For Racial Justice” that claims readers should support “defund[ing] the police” and “decolonize your bookshelf.”

The guide also claims employees should read The New York Times’s inaccurate and divisive “1619 Project” by Nikole Hannah-Jones. Streaming service Hulu, owned by Disney, is streaming a docuseries on Hannah-Jones’s work. The company described the “1619 Project” as “a landmark undertaking …of the brutal racism that endures in so many aspects of American life today.”

Dr. James A. Lindsay, the founder of New Discourses and the author of “Cynical Theories: How Activist Scholarship Made Everything about Race, Gender, and Identity—and Why This Harms Everybody,” told The Federalist that Americans “have to stop being shocked” about critical race theory trainings.

“This is happening pretty much everywhere,” Lindsay said. “What’s happening at Disney, while it looks very extreme, is actually quite typical. We see almost exactly the same kinds of things playing out in terms of what these trainings are made up of and what they include. The picture that has to come across somehow is these aren’t isolated incidents. This is government agencies. This is churches. This is virtually every university. This is many if not most school districts.”

Further dividing its employees by race and sex, Disney crafted “affinity groups” for minority employees to join. The groups are titled “Hola” for latino individuals, “Compass” for asians, and “Wakanda” for blacks. The objective of the groups is to provide “culturally-authentic insights” for employees and encourage “diversity,” “inclusion,” “belonging,” “identity,” and “allyship.” There is no group provided for all individuals to join.

Employees told Rufo the corporation sends “almost daily memos” on such issues and that Disney is “completely ideologically one-sided.” Numerous employees concurred and one claimed the corporate environment is “very stifled.”

“It’s been very stifling to feel like everyone keeps talking about having open dialogue and compassionate conversations, but when it comes down to it, I know if I said one thing that was truthful, based on data, or even just based on my own personal experience, it would actually be rather unwelcomed,” a Christian and conservative employee said.

In a video obtained by Rufo, Executive Chairman Bob Iger allegedly said Disney will not “shy away from politics” and “should be taking a stand” on identity politics issues. Iger also allegedly said the films “Dumbo,” “Aladdin,” and “Fantasia” are “racist content.” The company fired “The Mandalorian” actress Gina Carano in February for not displaying allegiance to identity politics while continuing to do business with a genocidal Communist China.

HD Editor’s Note: Why Is This News Biblically Relevant?

When Jesus’ disciples came to Him and asked, “What shall be the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world?” Jesus explained to them that one of the signs that would precede His coming would be “nations” rising against “nations.”

The word “nations” found in this verse (Matthew 24:7) is from the Greek word “ethnos,” where we get our English word for “ethnicity.” Therefore, this verse can also be read that “ethnicity shall rise against ethnicity” in the last days.

Racism is not new. However, what is new to our generation is the fabricated racism taught in schools, espoused by the media, and canceled by ‘culture.’ This stoking of division will, in the not too distant future, lead to genuine widespread racism. Racism is a sin. Creating division and hatred is a sin (Prov. 6:16-19, Luke 11:17, 1 John 2:9). All of these things are deeply rooted in a rebellion against God, His Word, and His design.

[missjanjie]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered | (5/?)

Title: Signed, Sealed, Delivered Summary:   Jan is in love with her French pen pal, Nicky. Her roommate, Crystal, is in love with her best friend, Gigi. A (perhaps ill-thought out) plan emerges: give Nicky a reason to visit by inviting her to Crystal and Gigi’s wedding. With a month to pull the scheme together, no one knows how this will end up. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~14.5k (total) Relationship(s): Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Gigi’s back arched, her eyes squeezed shut. One hand gripped her comforter while the other fisted into the other girl’s hair. “Fuck, Crystal…”

The girl suddenly stopped her steady ministrations and looked up. “Excuse me?”

“What?” Gigi opened her eyes, only to look confused and disappointed at the sudden lack of contact.

“You just called me Crystal,” she replied, only to receive a blank expression in return. “My name is Emily.” She didn’t sound as angry as perhaps she could have. In fact, there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

On the other hand, Gigi wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Her face had already been red, but it was burning hotter than ever. Even in the poorly-lit room, it was very clear that the girl between her legs didn’t even resemble Crystal, which to her, made it even worse. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Whatever, it’s none of my business,” Emily shrugged it off. She sat there quietly for a moment before looking back up at her. “Do you want me to continue or…”

Gigi sat up and shook her head. “I’d love to, but, um, I’ll take a raincheck,” she mumbled sheepishly as she got up to search for her clothes. She just wanted to get the hell out of there, and fast.

“So, who is Crystal?” she asked, lighting up a cigarette, “must be a real beauty, huh?”

“Crystal is my best friend,” Gigi answered with a humorless laugh as she got dressed. “And… yeah, she is. I know, what a fucking cliche, right?” she sighed. “Doesn’t help that we’re pretending to be engaged,” she added, only to quickly follow up with “don’t ask.”

She chuckled, taking a long drag. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” she assured flatly. “But if you ask me, you should probably talk to her about this before it happens again with someone who’s gonna actually get pissed at you.”

Gigi rolled her eyes and pulled her bag over her shoulder. “Good thing I didn’t ask.”

------

Jan had been pacing around her room nervously for the past ten minutes. While she had considered what Heidi suggested, she wasn’t ready to just dive in and confess her feelings to Nicky. Instead, she decided to ease into it with the song she’d been so diligently practicing. When she sang she wasn’t scared. She didn’t have to think, she didn’t have to fear. And with the song not being in English, she didn’t have to worry about getting hung up on words and inflictions, she could just feel the music. And if nothing else, focusing on giving this her all would take her mind off of the wedding chaos.

‘Hey, are you ready to call?’ The text from Nicky popped up on her phone and finally got her to stand still. She took a breath, collecting herself. ‘Yeah, one sec :)’ she sent back, then looked at herself in the mirror once more before sitting in front of her laptop and calling Nicky.

“Bonne après-midi, my dear,” Nicky greeted cheerily. “Now, tell me what is so important. You used even more exclamation marks and emojis than usually. I was a bit concerned,” she teased.

Jan rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh stop, I’m just excited. I have a surprise for you, I’ve been working really hard on it,” she paused, waiting for Nicky to signal for her to continue. “I learned a French song and I wanna sing it for you.”

Nicky perked up in pleasant surprise and curiosity. “You did? But you don’t even speak French,” she furrowed her brows, “wait, do you?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No, no. But this song… I dunno, I listened to it and it made me think of you. Like, I could just feel it in my soul that it was the perfect fit,” she explained. “So, without further ado…” After clearing her throat, she started the music and began to sing. She lost herself in the music, the words she didn’t understand flowed with such ease. It wasn’t until the song ended that she was able to gauge Nicky’s reaction, and it caused her to frown a bit. “Are you okay?”

Nicky sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she quickly assured. She pushed her hair out of her face, blinking rapidly. “You have such a beautiful voice. It’s not even fair that you can just sing in another language so easily,” she feigned a soft laugh.

Jan took it as nothing more than high praise, which of course, she appreciated. “Aw, thank you. And before you know it, I’ll be able to sing to you in person,” she beamed.

“Yeah,” Nicky agreed, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Jan, that was a nice surprise.”

“I’m glad you liked it! Listen, I hate to cut this short, but I promised Heidi and Jackie I’d meet them for lunch. I’ll call you later though, okay?”

Nicky nodded, and the call ended shortly after. She sat back in her chair, putting her hand over her pounding heart. Sure, she had been aware of the budding feelings she had towards her American penpal, but it had been so easy to not focus on. They talked a few times a day for the most part, but it was otherwise up to her to distract herself, and she could do so fairly easily. But something about Jan singing that song, it brought everything she had felt forward, and it hit her like a ton of bricks.

Oh.

“Mon dieu,” she muttered under her breath and stared up at the ceiling. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was better or worse to become aware of how strong her feelings were knowing she was going to see Jan in person in less than a month. On one hand, she worried she would be going in hoping for too much and would end up disappointed. On the other, she couldn’t help but think that maybe it was a sign. And you can’t just ignore a sign, right?

She squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them, hoping it would somehow give her a moment of clarity. Or better yet, she would suddenly be in New York and she would see Jan and everything would be all right. But nothing came of it, and she was left to sort out her feelings on her own.

Nicky groaned and lurched forward, then rested her head on the desk. “Vingt jours de plus…”

------

“Don’t you think doing an engagement photoshoot in Central Park is a little… cliché?” Gigi asked as she watched Crystal help Lemon fiddle with the lights.

Crystal shrugged. “It’s supposed to be cliché. It’ll make it more believable. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

“Then why are you all pouty?”

“Your dress is a lot bigger than mine and I feel outshined at my own wedding,” she replied, watching the way Gigi’s dress flowed with every move. It was truly a testament to Gigi’s designing abilities – with her dainty features and defined silhouette, she looked like a Disney princess. The more Crystal looked at her, the more she was convinced Gigi had stepped out of a cartoon and simply never told her.

Gigi giggled, covering her mouth as she did. “You’re not gonna be outshined,” she assured. “Look at your hair, whose eyes wouldn’t go right to that?” And to be fair, Crystal’s normal mess of curls was styled with a braid going across the crown of her head, and the rest was done into a teased-out ponytail. Normally, the two of them were the same height, but with the hairdo, it appeared that Crystal had a couple of inches on her.

Crystal tilted her head in thought. “Okay, you got me there,” she conceded.

“You guys ready?” Lemon asked when she had everything set up to her liking. “We have like, an hour and a half, two hours in this lighting, let’s make the most of it.”

Crystal and Gigi nodded, letting the shorter girl position them as she best saw fit. “Okay, look in love,” Lemon directed before she began snapping away.

As it turned out, Lemon didn’t need to give them a whole lot of further instruction. The fondness in their expressions, the tenderness in their touches, it flowed with a natural ease. Some passerbys would stop and look for a moment, some even snapping a picture of their own with their phone, but the faux-couple never lost focus. It was only one instruction that caught them off guard.

“Now kiss.”

The two of them froze, both understanding it was a perfectly logical request, but neither sure of how to approach it. What followed was a moment of awkward silence, then hesitant leaning in, and finally, their lips met in a gentle kiss.

“Good, now hold it,” Lemon continued, unphased by their odd behavior. She snapped a few more photos before looking up from her camera. “Alright, ladies. I think we got it,” she announced.

Crystal and Gigi lingered in the kiss for another moment before pulling back, leaving a new tension mounting between them. Neither of them could look the other in the eye, both knowing if they did, they’d start kissing again without the ability to stop.

But Lemon didn’t feel particularly inclined to facilitate whatever the hell was going on between them. “Anyway, I’ll email you guys the pics once they’re done. I’m gonna go now, some of us have actual girlfriends to spend time with,” she said, packing up her things. “Good luck with… this,” she said, gesturing between the two of them before leaving.

“So,” Crystal cleared her throat, “I think that went well.”

Gigi had opened her mouth to reply when – perhaps mercifully – they were interrupted when a woman came up to them.

The woman seemed friendly, maybe a bit tired. She was well-dressed, likely in her early thirties. “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you,” she started, “but my daughter here wanted to meet the ‘princesses’,” she explained with a soft laugh.

Crystal and Gigi’s gazes drifted downward to the little girl, no more than four years old, shyly holding onto her mother’s leg. Their expressions softened and just like that, all of the tension melted away. They carefully crouched down to be eye-level with the child as her mother nudged her over. “Do you want your mommy to take a picture?” Crystal suggested to the girl.

The girl nodded eagerly, turning to look at her mom, who was already fishing through her purse for her phone. “Okay, Ayla,” her mom directed, “smile big!”

All three girls smiled brightly and Crystal and Gigi slowly got up as Ayla ran back to her mom. “Could you send that to me, actually?” Crystal asked, then gave the woman her number when she obliged.

When the two of them were alone again, there was a brief moment of worry that the tension would build back up, but the whole incident was still providing a successful distraction. “Oh my god, this is so cute,” Crystal cooed.

Gigi rested her chin on Crystal’s shoulder to look. “Aw, yeah, that’s adorable,” she agreed, her arms absentmindedly looping around Crystal’s waist. “I didn’t know you were so good with kids,” she added.

Crystal shrugged, having never really thought about it before. “I guess so, I was always around my cousins growing up and being one of the older girls puts you on default babysitting duty,” she explained, becoming aware of Gigi’s hold on her as she spoke and realizing there was nowhere else she’d rather be, even if it came with the stipulation of standing in the middle of Central Park in a wedding dress.

“We should get changed,” Gigi said, though she didn’t make any immediate attempts to move from Crystal. But eventually she did let go and stand upright. “I’ll order an uber.”

------

Back in Crystal’s bedroom, she and Gigi had long since changed out of their dresses, taken off their makeup, and let their hair flow loose and free. They lay sprawled out on Crystal’s bed, barely watching whatever was on TV. This was their normal, when they were able to turn off their brains and just enjoy each other’s company.

At least, until Gigi broke the silence, clearing her throat first. “I think we need to work on acting like a couple.”

Crystal furrowed her brows and sat up. “What do you mean? I thought we’ve been pulling it off pretty well so far.”

“Come on, you have to admit that kiss was pretty awkward,” she retorted.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” she conceded. “So what, you think we should practice kissing? I haven’t used that line on a girl since tenth grade,” she teased.

Gigi turned a bright red at that, though she insisted, “it’s not a line!” in a voice that was a little too strained to be convincing. “But the time until Nicky’s visit is dwindling, and this all hinges on how convincing we are as a couple. So, you know, no pressure, but…”

“But Jan’s fate lies in our ability to tongue wrestle. Got it,” Crystal finished with a firm nod. This was what she did best – make a dumb joke to deflect from the fact that she was dying to kiss her and get it right this time. “C’mon baby, kiss me like you mean it,” she said in a comically ‘sexy’ manner.

And Gigi did, taking it as a chance at redemption. She cupped Crystal’s face and pressed a deep kiss against her lips and suddenly, all bets were off. As soon as she felt Crystal kiss back, she poured everything into the embrace.

Crystal was fairly certain Gigi had stolen her breath in the kiss, as she found herself forgetting how to do anything but kiss back like her life depended on it. She grabbed onto Gigi’s shirt, eagerly pulling her closer until she fell back on the bed with Gigi on top of her, their legs intertwining.

Gigi couldn’t have held back if she tried. She yanked Crystal’s hair to expose her neck, then bit down and left a hickey in the dead center of one side. It just made it more convincing if she left proof that they were in a committed, intimate relationship, of course. In fact, she left one on the other side for good measure. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” she muttered, sitting back and straddling Crystal’s waist and gazing down at her.

Crystal was fairly certain her heart had never beaten so fast in her life. Being with Gigi was nothing like her hookup with Jan. Things were fun and slow and light with Jan, compared to how hard, fast, and passionate Gigi was. She supposed that was where the difference between a friend and lover lies – Jan was warm and comfortable, but Gigi lit a fire in her, they weren’t even undressed and she was already aching for her to fan the flames. “Please don’t stop.”

The quiet plea was music to Gigi’s ears and nothing in the world could’ve stopped her from obliging. She tugged off her own t-shirt, now significantly less dressed than Crystal, having forgone a bra. But she made quick work of remedying that, stripping Crystal from the waist-up and placing a trail of kisses from right above her navel, all the way back up to her collarbone. “Couldn’t if I tried,” she cooed.

“Mm…” Crystal exhaled softly, reacting to every touch with a silent cry for more. She loved the way Gigi’s lips felt against her – on her neck, on her breasts, the way her tongue swirled around her nipples and flicked against the metal of her piercing. “Fuck…”

Gigi moved back down Crystal’s body, tugging off her shorts and panties in one swift motion, then made herself comfortable between Crystal’s thighs. She had only just started when Crystal stopped her.

“Wait, wait, I wanna get you too.”

It took Gigi a moment to understand what Crystal meant. “Oh! Okay, yeah,” she got up and repositioned herself on top, her head between Crystal’s thighs and her legs resting on either side of her head, letting Crystal shift underneath her until she was straddling her face. They both started off slow, but neither could keep the teasing pace up for long, picking up in speed and fervor.

Gigi balanced herself with one hand, using both her tongue and the fingers of her opposite hand to fuck Crystal with a pace that bordered on erratic. Her mind was both frantic and clouded with lust and emotions she was in no position to decipher. She was only loosely aware that Crystal was struggling to keep up with her, and she didn’t care. It was her so it felt good.

And Crystal actually liked the challenge of trying to keep up with Gigi. Her senses were in overdrive with how incredible she made her feel, and it spurred her on all the more. It did become more difficult as she neared her peak – her vision started to get hazy, her breathing more labored, and she couldn’t focus on anything else when she came with a loud groan. She took a moment to catch her breath, then readily and eagerly got Gigi off as well.

When they were both done, Gigi pushed herself off of Crystal and lay beside her. She wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close with her arms securely around her waist. “I think we can pull off being a couple now,” she mumbled, face buried in Crystal’s hair.

“Yeah,” Crystal breathed out with a hint of a laugh, “we’re such good actresses.” And she was just glad Gigi wasn’t able to see the grin on her face, because now she couldn’t even convince herself that she wasn’t in love with Gigi.

[letterboxd]

Obsession.

Ella Kemp dives into Letterboxd’s 100 highest-rated, obsessively rewatched films of 2020 to find out why we love them—and to give Hollywood a heads-up on what we want to rewatch again and again.

Take note, development execs: we want to watch more of everything that makes us feel alive; that makes us feel thankful to be. To bottle that feeling, and drink it up as often, and as obsessively, as we like. We also want: more singing, more dancing, more drugs, more talking animals, more of whatever Director Bong is serving—and make everything gayer.

We know this because, a few years back, the Letterboxd team asked one very simple question: what’s the highest-rated film of all time, when the criteria is that you must have seen it five or more times? Not the ‘guilty’ pleasures, not the ‘so-bad-it’s-good’ gems, but the already-excellent films that are also inherently rewatchable. The resulting top 100 from back then are all extremely, objectively good. What can we say—you have great taste.

Because 2020 is, well, 2020, we revisited this idea to see how four years and an endless quarantine might have changed things. The usual suspects have been rounded up (Christopher, Quentin, Ridley, Damien, David and company), but a lot has shifted in the Highest Rated Obsessively Rewatched Club for 2020.

The top ten in the 100 highest rated, obsessively rewatched films of 2020.

Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire is now top of the heap, where Spike Jonze’s Her was number one last time around. In fact, only Jaws and Carol remain from the last top ten. The Letterboxd community favors a wider world view: in 2017, the top 100 had only one film by a female director; in 2020 there are eight. The list has gone from exactly zero films entirely in languages other than English, to two (Portrait and Parasite), with several more containing a portion of non-English dialogue. Not quite leaping the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, but it’s progress. And, there is substantially more LGBTQ+ representation all round.

This year’s top 100 shows that we still like to return to the idea of the auteur, and the challenge of a franchise. In 2017, Christopher Nolan was the filmmaker with the highest number of highly rated, obsessively rewatched films; in 2020 Quentin Tarantino has taken the lead, just ahead of Nolan. Joining them in the multiple-titles group are Edgar Wright, Peter Jackson, Joe and Anthony Russo, epic-scale filmmakers from whom we’ve learned so much, and whose films have more to offer the viewer on every watch. (When ratings are not part of the equation, Avengers: Endgame—still with a respectable 3.9 average—was the Most Obsessively Rewatched title of 2019. “You give me someone flying, turning invisible, super speed… that’s where I live,” explains obsessive rewatcher Max Joseph this Letterboxd interview. “In Endgame, I get a little bit of every genre and mood.”)

Obsessed with obsession

What is “obsessive”? To put some kind of parameters around the search for this year’s top 100, our team looked for the feature films that had five or more rated watches from a minimum of 150 Letterboxd members each, then we sorted that list by the ratings of those members.

But that word—“obsessive”—got me thinking. Just how obsessive are we talking here? It’s reassuring to know that Parasite is, naturally, a film we enjoy returning to, but when we’re talking about rewatches plural, what happens when we sort these 100 highly rated titles by another value: the number of diary entries logged by these obsessive members. And what would that list say about our tendencies as watchers?

Spoiler: we also pulled those numbers, and found an entirely different top ten:

The most obsessively rewatched, highest-rated films of all time, as at 2020.

Look at that image. Compare it with the inarguable cinephilia of the ratings-based top ten, which soars on critical strength. What are we seeing here? That’s not the question. The real question is: what are we feeling? What do these ten films do to us so consistently, that helps them to retain high ratings across many, many, many rewatches?

You see, in the top 100, members typically log their favorites between five and seven times—but there’s a select handful of titles that see an average of up to 24 viewings per obsessive member. You read that right. There is a film on Letterboxd that multiple obsessive members have watched 24 times or more, at the time of writing.

Comedy that never gets old

The film in question is Jemaine Clement and Taika Waititi’s What We Do in the Shadows, a genre-smart mockumentary about three vampire housemates just, well, pure vibing. It’s entirely in a league of its own, no doubt helped by a spin-off series, with the next entry, The Lonely Island’s Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping racking up an average of 17.7 rewatches per obsessive member.

These top two most obsessively rewatched titles make sense. When you’re feeling low, or when there’s some time to kill, what better place to turn than somewhere where the jokes never get old? As James writes on Letterboxd, Shadows “never fails to make me laugh”. Never fails. Taking a chance on a new comedy harbors its risks, so when you find the ones that work, you have to hold onto them like gold dust. It’s the sense of familiarity that comes from the same sharp, self-aware sketches, the endlessly quotable one-liners and screenshots that make memes feel like works of art.

(On that note, I asked the team: what were the highest-rated, obsessively rewatched comedy specials? No surprises: Bo Burnham’s masterful 2016 Netflix special Make Happy, and John Mulaney’s Kid Gorgeous at Radio City. Comedy is good when it catches you off guard—but in a pandemic, it’s even better when you can rely on it to deliver that same rush of endorphins, every time.)

Thank you for the music

Speaking of pick-me-ups, ever notice how much better you feel after karaoke? Or, when you know everyone else has gone out so you can let rip across every inch of the house with ultimate privacy? The cathartic thrill that comes from a sing-along is what keeps our obsessive members returning to musicals, increasingly. There’s comfort in memorized lyrics; the words we yell and hold dear.

You’ve got this in Popstar (‘Finest Girl’, anyone?) and, crucially, in a double-bill of jukebox musicals celebrating ABBA’s greatest hits: Mamma Mia! and Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again. With fifteen rewatches on average for the former, and almost seventeen for the latter, the sequel’s slight upper hand proves the film’s triumphant formula—there really is an endless supply of ABBA bangers—but also that the repurposing of the most pivotal tracks (‘Mamma Mia’ and ‘Waterloo’) will work even better the second time around, due to the familiarity, both of the songs and now their new-found purpose in this world.

The feeling of singing along with Lily James as Donna, as she dances around Paris with her young Harry, of latching onto Cher’s every breath as she reunites with the eponymous Fernando—these moments become part of our own memory, and the satisfaction that comes from performing them again and again never fades. It’s also why so many musicals are rewatchable staples. Singin’ in the Rain, Rocketman, Bohemian Rhapsody and Pitch Perfect all feature in the top 100.

Out of interest, I asked the team to lift the curtain on non-narrative music films to see which greats we return to. Again, zero surprise (to me, at least): Jonathan Demme’s transcendent Talking Heads concert film Stop Making Sense is, and has long been, the highest-rated, most obsessively rewatched concert documentary on Letterboxd. And it’s only been a few months, but the Disney+ filmed version of Hamilton is up there, along with Homecoming: A Film by Beyoncé. #BEYHIVE, come in.

Maybe we should trust love

At the other end of the spectrum, two titles in the most obsessively rewatched top ten point to our tendencies to find catharsis in our most extreme, most vulnerable expressions of emotion. Our two revealing films here are Love, Simon and Interstellar—one a grounded and sensitive coming-of-age picture of a teenage boy’s coming out, the other an epic space-travel thriller. Still, both films understand that, ultimately, love transcends all.

These films make room for us to revisit these most searing feelings, of love hidden, lost, afraid or universal, they let us cry out what we relate to, and escape into whichever onscreen emotions we prefer to project ourselves into beyond our own lives, time and time again. Because however much changes, you know you’ll always crave and be rewarded by love. (And by the existential exploration that often accompanies these big feelings: Don Hertzfeldt's World of Tomorrow is the highest-rated, most obsessively rewatched short film with Letterboxd members.)

Ink spots and needle drops

The idea of projection—of escape beyond our own lives—comes back often when thinking of the rewatch. But certain titles reveal how we choose to find escape in a quite literal form; observe the love for Tangled, rewatched on average ten times per obsessive member.

And then there’s Shrek 2, revisited on average 7.9 times (more on this bizarre, outstanding oddity on its own soon). The leap of faith into an animated world is one that offers a blank canvas painted over with new colors: the pastel pinks and soft peach oranges of sunset skies in Tangled, the rich purples and blues of the twinkling lights of the afterlife in Coco, the playful blue waters of Moana, with the sun giving everything a new glow. Animation works as relaxation here, clearing the mind and coloring it calmly time and time again. Elsa said it first: you can, and should, let it all go.

It is entirely probable, of course, that no Letterboxd parent is logging the Frozens—or any other animated family film, for that matter—as often as their household is actually watching them, the truth of which would completely upend this data. We know the math underpinning this whole exercise is somewhat arbitrary, but it’s an interesting starting point from which to analyze why certain things just work, again and again.

Take the oddity that is Shrek 2, deserving of its own dissection purely because of how masterfully it combines so many of the previously established elements. This film and its predecessor create so many vivid images that fit into the category of animated escapism, but music plays a major part, also. ‘Accidentally In Love’ by Counting Crows as Shrek and Fiona blissfully enjoy their honeymoon period; ‘Funky Town’ by Lipps Inc. as Shrek, Fiona and Donkey roll into Far Far Away; Jennifer Saunders as Fairy Godmother, with her sublime cover of Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Holding Out For A Hero’. There are too many perfect needle-drop moments to count, and every time the rewatch comes around, they feel new.

Add to the comforting visuals and euphoric music the countless one-liners, perfectly performed by Eddie Murphy and Mike Myers, but really, here, Rupert Everett as Prince Charming—a squirm-inducing, note-perfect pantomimic performance. Shrek 2 might just be the defining example of what makes a good movie the best movie, and one that only grows greater with every rewatch. Lucky us.

Festive fever

The inclusion of A Christmas Story, the second-last in our most rewatched top ten, makes sense when considering the times in our lives when we turn to movies for comfort (and discomfort: note the Hallowe’en-related rewatchables in the top 100). A Christmas Story might not be your first festive choice, but you will have your own equivalent. The Muppet Christmas Carol also made the top 100, with Elf, Love, Actually and the Home Alone movies bubbling under. We recognize all the beats, and seeing as the holidays return each year, it’s natural that we return to the titles that make us feel most at home within them.

Like Carol. Darling Carol. The last of our top ten most most most rewatched. Flung out of space into our eyeballs by Todd Haynes as some sort of Christmas miracle, its rewatchability as much seasonal as it is about love, representation, vintage glamor and that final scene. Let’s see where Happiest Season sits this time next year, shall we?

And so, what can filmmakers and distributors learn from what we want to see, not just once, but again and again? In just four years the list of titles the Letterboxd community has chosen to revisit and protect has blossomed with an open heart and feverishly enthusiastic mind.

Looking over the top 100 highest-rated, obsessively rewatched films in 2020, we want more queer love: Portrait, Moonlight and Carol but also Booksmart, The Favourite, Call Me by Your Name. We definitely need more singing and dancing: Suspiria, La La Land, Singin’ in the Rain, Mamma Mia and beyond.

We want more adventure, more time travel, more mind-melters, more drinking, exploring, investigating, more talking animals, more drugs, more laughs, more tears, more goosebumps. We want more full-body feelings of falling in love with a movie you know you’ll hold onto with everything you’ve got.

In the end, numbers can only tell us so much, and these numbers are drawn from what we’ve already seen, which is what’s already managed to make it through the system. There’s as much to learn from how these films were made as there is from what they’re about. Because, no matter how many AI tools people dream up to help with the green-lighting process, moviemaking is fundamentally about magic. And when all the right ingredients make it into the cauldron, the spell can be so strong that a film will win our hearts forever.

Related content

The Highest-Rated Obsessively Rewatched Club for 2020

Follow Ella on Letterboxd

[skekzok-the-ritual-master]

Out Of Character Questions

ROLEPLAYER GET TO KNOW YOU PROMPT

Tagged by: @hedonistschambers

Tagging: @ask-skeksa-the-mariner, @allpowerfulemperor, @asktheornamentalist, @askurva-thearcher, and anyone else who wants to :)

OOC About Your Character(s)

1.     What do you want to get out of playing this character(s)?

I used to RP on Tumblr a lot in the Megamind fandom, and seeing other Dark Crystal RPers on here made me want to try getting back into RP a little. Since I don’t have any Dark Crystal OCs who lend themselves well to RP, I decided to go with a canon character, and skekZok was a prominent one who hadn’t gotten a blog yet. I’ve always liked looking at characters and thinking about what makes them tick, so this gives me a fun chance to do that for him.  

2.     Describe your character(s) with three words.

Cultured | Sadistic | Hypocritical 

3.     What made you decide to write this muse?

I’d been following the blogs of a few other Skeksis RPers, and the absence of Zok had been remarked on. Since he’s one of my favorites, I decided to make a blog for him and join in the fun.

4.     If you could change one event in your muse’s life (in their main or canon verse), what would you change?

That’s a tough one, because Zok really doesn’t suffer that much in canon compared to other characters. I might stop ZokZah from trying to burn out part of his soul, but skekZok wouldn’t exist and there wouldn’t be much of a story if I did that. (If we include the JM Lee novels, I’d change it so he doesn’t throw skekSa under the bus.)

5.     If you could tell your muse one thing, what would you tell them?

“Don’t stab the blonde Gelfling girl. It won’t prevent the prophecy, and she’ll just come back to life anyway.”

6.     If you could give your muse one gift, what would you give them?

I’d love to see his reaction to a Swiss Army knife.

7.     If you had to take one positive thing away from your muse, what would you take away?

I’m not sure how positive this is, but I’d take away his ability to believe his own lies. It would be interesting to see how he tries to juggle all the conflicting rules and stories he’s come up with over the centuries. 

8.     If you could “borrow” one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow?

His talent for speaking in public. I wish I could command an audience like he does.

9.     Do you genuinely want your muse to be happy? What do you think would make them most happy in life?

Considering the kind of things that tend to make Zok happy? Maybe. As for what would make him happiest, he believes it would be achieving immortality and remaining one of the highest-ranked of the court and having skekSa as his permanent mate, but that still won’t heal the spiritual emptiness inside him. Much as I enjoy Zok and Zah as separate beings, I do think reunification was the best thing for them. If he and SaSan could have been together after that, that would have been even better.

10. Do you enjoy putting your muse through angst? What do you think would break their heart the most?

I don’t mind angst in small doses, as long as I plot it out with the other player(s) beforehand and we agree how it will turn out in the end. Zok doesn’t lend himself easily to angst, but losing his place in the court hierarchy or having one of his allies turn on him would do it. He’s also come to genuinely believe the mythology he’s invented over the centuries -- anything that seriously challenged that worldview would be hard for him to deal with. 

11. What do you love about your muse?

A lot of things. His charisma, his striking blue eyes, the way his voice is deeper and smoother than most of the other Skeksis, how over-the-top his gold outfit is, how he’s so attached to his headdress that he doesn’t even take it off in the spa, how unrepentantly creepy and sadistic he is -- he’s a very enjoyable character, even if he is a horrible birb.

12. What do you hate about your muse?

He's not an easy character to have interact with everyone. He can pretend to be nice when it suits him, and he’s not totally incapable of caring about people, but he’s still nasty enough that I can tell in advance a lot of interactions wouldn’t go well. 

13. What about your muse amuses you?

The contrast between the austere image he tries to keep up, and how frazzled he gets when something upsets that image (”MY CARRIAGE!”). Also when he gets sarcastic or looks down on the others when they act in a less-than-civilized way. 

14. What about your muse makes you sad?

All the people he’s hurt, and how unwilling he is to see that his way of life isn’t sustainable and won’t truly make him happy in the end.

15. How would you describe your muse to someone about to meet them, in person, for the first time?

“This guy is a creep, but he believes in good manners. Tread lightly, and you should be okay.”

16. Would you like your muse as a person if you met them in real life?

LOL no. He’s an awful person who is best left in the realm of fiction.

17. In what ways are you better than your muse? In what ways are they better than you?

I like to think I’m a much nicer person than he is. I can be blunt and a bit of a troll sometimes, but I really don’t like hurting anyone, or trying to force people to do stuff they don’t like. As for Zok, he’s much more confident and well-spoken than I am, and he’s had the determination to stick with one job for a thousand years. 

18. Why do you think you connect to your muse?

We’re both interested in culture, myth, and history, and feel better when we can assign some order to the world around us. 

19. What aspect of your muse’s personality is most important to you? What aspect of your muse’s personality do you think is most important to them? Is it the same? Why or why not?

As I see it, the core of Zok’s character is that he wants to bring order to the world; that’s why his job title is ‘Ritual Master’ rather than ‘High Priest’ or something more overtly religious. If he can’t see an obvious reason why things are the way they are, he’ll invent one that makes sense to him (and serves his needs). 

I think this is what Zok sees as his most important trait too -- in his mind, he took a bunch of feral newborn creatures who (by all rights) were never meant to have existed in the first place, and helped turn them into a civilized, godlike people who rule an entire planet. But that feral nature is always under the surface, and they still need ritual and order (and yes, punishment) to keep it in check. 

20. Has your character(s) changed over the time that you have been playing them? How have they changed?

I haven’t been playing Zok for very long, but I’ve recently had a chance to write how he feels about deeper questions, like what it would mean for Skeksis to have children, and what happens to Skeksis and urRu souls after they die. I think it’s made him a bit more three-dimensional. 

About You!

1.     What is your name?

Kate, a.k.a. Crow or Lady Stormcrow

2.     What is your profession?

Social worker, currently working in substance abuse treatment.

3.     What do you do to relax?

Watch favorite TV shows, play video games, listen to music, hang out outdoors, chat online. 

4.     What is your favorite treat (desert)?

I have a big weakness for flan and other custard desserts. Also caramel.

5.     Favorite movie

Amadeus (1984).

6.     Favorite book

Good Omens (and yes I loved the series too). 

7.     Favorite vacation spot

Grand Cayman. We were supposed to visit again this spring, but COVID happened.

8.     Favorite Disney movie

I’m not sure I have one favorite, but I love Fantasia and The Rescuers.

9.     How did you first get into role playing?

Almost 20 years ago, lol. When I first started going online in high school, I made an online friend ( @ksclaw ) who introduced me to the concept. We played interactions with our SWAT Kats fan characters, and she helped me get the hang of it.

10. What was your first platform? If it was something other than Tumblr, what made you get into Tumblr?

It was Livejournal. I discovered Tumblr in late 2011 after my friends in the Megamind fandom introduced me to it, and most of us migrated here from our old LJ community. I loved being able to reblog whatever struck my fancy, and while my interest has waxed and waned, as you can see I’m still here.

11. What’s a grammar rule you find yourself breaking or ignoring a lot?

I like to think I have pretty good grammar. I know I’m guilty of run-on sentences, though, and I overuse ellipses and mix up ; and -- far too much. 

12. Are there any languages besides English in which you think you could comfortably roleplay?

Not really. I can speak and understand a little Spanish and French, but not enough to write anything meaningful, and I’m wary of translation software for anything beyond a short sentence. Sorry!

13. Do you listen to music while your write?

Sometimes. Usually not when I’m doing the actual writing (that’s distracting, and I like to hear the words in my head), but I’ll listen to it beforehand to get myself in a mood or get some inspiration.

14. Are you a morning, day, evening, or night writer?

Late morning after I’ve had my coffee is usually my best time. Unfortunately I’m usually at work during that time, but on slow days and weekends I try to take advantage of it.

15. How does tiredness affect your writing?

It turns me into a zombie who can dream but cannot actually write.

16. What is your biggest obstacle to writing every day, if time doesn’t count?

Lack of motivation. I daydream and imagine stuff easily enough, but putting it down into writing is much harder, especially when I’m braindead from work.

17. How many drafts is a paralyzing amount?

More than 5 is daunting, though fortunately Zok hasn’t gotten that many yet.

18. Is there anything character-wise or writing style-wise that you can’t stand?

Players who are unwilling to have their characters be in the wrong, or who get upset if my character doesn’t react the way they wanted. Not all interactions are going to be smooth and happy, and I’m fine with that. Your character is not you, just like mine is not me.

19. What kind of anonymous questions are your favorite?

Weird ones. I like having my muses react to them.

20. What is your weakest point in writing? Angst, fluff, dialogue, etc.?

Fluff is kind of tricky. I don’t have trouble imagining it, but I get paralyzed thinking “this is too indulgent, I shouldn’t publish it, no one but me will like it, etc.” Maybe that’s part of why Zok appeals to me, because he’s not the fluffy type. 

[oh-boleyn]

te para tres

words: 3809, language: english. jane & kat (kind of mom/daughter relationship)

author’s note: I wanted to keep multichapters on my ao3 but I actually kind of like this fic, and so I thought to post it here too! anyway it is also in ao3

tags: jane & kat - centric, kat is homeless, jane is trying her best, canon abuse/non con, tw abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Families of Choice, Light Angst, pregnant!jane, sickness

part one: las tazas sobre el mantel part two: un poco de miel

la lluvia derramada

They take a taxi to the doctor’s office. The cold weather is not helping them to just walk or try any other route.

“Are you going to find out the baby’s gender?”

“Probably not. I want it to be a surprise.” Jane explains. “What do you think they’ll be?”

“I don’t know. I’m not good with guesses. Have you thought about names?”

“I would like to name them after a family member. It’s a family tradition I don’t want to lose.”

“Tell me names.”

“My father’s name is John.”

“Too plain.”

“Margaery.”

“I like it.” Katherine smiles.

“Edward?”

“Yes! It sounds like a prince's name, something out of Disney.” The teenager nods. “Who is Edward?”

“My brother.” Jane states. “He is my confidant, and he is there for me every time I need him.”

“Is he a good person?”

“Yes, he is.”

(…)

At first Katherine refused to search for her family, but she knows that unless waiting until eighteen was a goal, she should contact them, at least to get her job permission signed, or any document that releases them from being their legal guardians.

What she didn’t know was that her cousin, already in her late-twenties, would want to meet her.

She introduces herself as Anne Boleyn, and it would be a lie if Katherine said that she had never heard that name. They look nothing alike. Anne is shorter than her, has pale skin, green eyes and a round face. She is kind, but tense. Katherine can’t decide if she likes her or not.

Anne is way too enthusiastic for Kat’s liking.

Their first meeting goes rather political, but not as family is supposed to be.

Still, they decide to meet again.  

(…)

Jane never thought Katherine would love hair dye so much, but now for the second time in a row they were sitting on the bathroom, applying electric pink dye to the girl’s hair. Anna recommended changing brands, mostly to not ruin her hair. Cathy also stepped in suggesting that once a month was an alright amount of time, but that doing it less frequent is better.

Still, Jane buys two boxes. If she can give Katherine a sense of stability, she will. Even if stability means dying her hair the same day every month.

(…)

“I can’t remember baking cookies, like ever.” Katherine comments, breaking an egg.

“You are missing a lot.”

Jane looks bright, like the sun. For the teenager, she looks like the standard picture of some announce. Her blond hair is up in a bun, which is not messy but not immaculate, her blue eyes are sparkling warm. She’s wearing a lose overall, with a yellow shirt. Her bump clearly there.

“Do you bake often?”

“No, not really. I used to, when I was younger.” Jane explains. “Can you measure the sugar? I need a cup.”

“Sure.” Kat moves, doing her task. “Why don’t you? If you love baking so much, you should do it more often.”

“I just don’t have the time.” She takes the flour. “Now I do, but before, living with my ex and college. It was just a lot; I never had the time to do it all.”

“Do you miss it? Your life before?”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Jane smiles. “I have better things now.”

She gives Kat a kiss on the forehead as good as she can give the height difference.

(…)

Living with Katherine is not always easy.

She would zone out from time to time, sometimes almost hurting herself. It was hard for Jane to keep up with her, because the teenager would enter periods of dissociation without previous notice. Other times, her personality would almost change, becoming furious and angry, throwing hateful words at Jane and begging to be back on the street.

But lately, every episode ended up the same, with both of them curling on the sofa watching a movie, until Kat would finally go to sleep.

Jane thought a lot about how her baby is going to be in sixteen years. Most importantly, if her baby will love her. The teenager who was now under her care rarely expressed feelings with words. Judging by how she acted around, the older was sure that they loved each other.

Wondering what could’ve happened if they didn’t meet wasn’t something she was too keen on. Katherine was the person she never knew she needed. Helping her felt so natural, almost like destiny, and Jane couldn’t love her more. The teenager had made her way into Jane’s life, becoming her daughter in all but title.

Jane hopes Katherine will let her be around, wanting nothing more than to see her grow and live the happy life she deserved.

(…)

Jane’s family were visiting, and Katherine felt nervous to the core. She knew how much the older woman loved her siblings, and if they didn’t like Kat, she might kick her out.

It was impossible to think about it, but Katherine knew better than to get too attached, even if Jane was the kindest person to her in a long time, so was Culpeper, and it didn’t mean kind was good.

“How is my little princess?” Jane’s father asks.

He looks like Jane; both share the same blue eyes. The word princess makes Katherine flinch, but she tries to cover her emotions. She toys with the pink dress Aragon gifted her from the spring edition of the magazine, while trying to ignore all the people who get into the restaurant.

“Dad, let me introduce you to Katherine. Kat, they are my father and siblings.”

“Hi, I’m Edward and he is my brother, Thomas.” One of them announces. “And my sisters, Dorothy and Elizabeth.”

Katherine is both glad and nervous none of them try to initiate physical contact, not sure if that was Jane’s recommendation or just their way to let her know she is not welcomed.

“I’m Katherine.” She replies, trying not to sound rude.

“Shall we order? I’m starving.” Jane announces, resting a hand on her stomach.

(…)

“Was her family amicable?” Anne questions.

She picked Katherine from the restaurant, trying to give Jane and her family a moment to themselves.

“Yes, they were kind.” Katherine replied, making herself smaller on the car seat. “She has a brother, Edward. He explained every family detail to me so I wouldn’t get lost when they talked about their extended family.”

Elizabeth was almost asleep on the back of the car, which led to the teenager deciding to ride in the front seat.

“That is nice.”

“They are buying her a new apartment.” Katherine blurs out. “They already did.”

“They must have money.” Anne adds, eyes fixed on the road.

“Yes. It is a three-bedroom apartment, and she asked me to move in with her. Like, living twenty-four seven with her.” Kat continues. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

“Do you want to?”

That was a real, fair question and Katherine didn’t know the answer.

A part of her wanted nothing more to have the security and protection Jane offered, late nights watching movies, waking up and having breakfast, going back to school, graduating. But she wasn’t sure she was able to do that, if she was destined to have that kind of happy life. The idea that Jane might kick her out any moment was something she couldn’t erase, but still, she decides to take a chance.

“I think so, yes.”

(…)

“Why did father do that?” Jane questions Edward.

“Do what?”

“Buy me a new place.” The woman states as if it’s obvious.

“You are having a baby. His first grandson. Of course he wants the baby to have a room.”

“And why the room for Katherine?”

“Do you not want her?” He questions.

“I do, a lot. But none of you do.” Jane speaks hurtful.

“We want whatever makes you happy. And if adopting a girl from the street is that, we are going to welcome her as one of our own.” The brother gives his sister a smile. “We are family.”

“Do you think she will want to be a part of it?”

“Your family? Sure. Not so sure about Dorothy, she is not likeable.”

They share a laugh.

(...)

“Jane stop it! It hurts!” Kat says, trying to get the older woman away from her hair.

“Don’t apply so much pressure!” Cathy indicates.

Braiding hair is harder than what she thought it would be. Parr is giving the directions, while Jane is trying to keep up.

“Sorry sweetheart, but this is hard.” Jane excuses herself. “Is there not something easier to do? Like a beginner braid or something?”

“This is the beginner’s braid Jane. It’s just a French one.” Cathy says. “Look.”

She takes Katherine’s hair on her hands, and starts braiding it quickly. In a moment she finishes half of it, doing a tight ponytail instead of finishing the braid.

“See?”

“I hate you, Parr.” Jane half jokes. “You don’t have a baby bump in your way, it’s not fair.”

“Shut up and just admit you can’t do a braid.”

Kat laughs, watching her reflection. “You make amazing braid, Cathy!”

“Thank you!” Catherine replies. “Now, let’s give your cousin a hand with the boxes. Or you will end up moving next year with half of the stuff.”

(…)

Jane and Kat move into the new apartment on a Monday, and they have their first fight on a Tuesday.

“I don’t want to, Jane!” Katherine screams, to the top of her lungs.

“Katherine Howard, we talked about this, you are going to therapy. There is nothing to discuss.” Her voice is hard, stern.

“Don’t Katherine Howard me.”

There is a slam on the door and the poster Anne bought her falls from the wall.

Jane is speechless, Katherine has never been so aggressive before. Even when she was upset, she was usually calmer, quieter. She hated it; how afraid the girl would look if she got even the littlest upset. Getting mad could be considered an improvement, even if it was not gladly received by the older.

Anne Boleyn

Hi Jane! Is everything okay? Kat just texted me if I could come and pick her up.

Jane Seymour

Yes, it’s alright, we were just discussing therapy.

“Katherine, come here please!” She screams.

The teenager comes out of her bedroom with eyes full of tears. The old phone with the cracked screen her cousin gifted in her hand. Her knuckles went white from the pressure.

“We have to talk. I’m feeling upset, I won’t deny it. I am not kicking you out nor I feel different about you, but we have to talk.”

“If I say I will go, will you just stop?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to help you. Why don’t we prepare some tea, and then we can talk?”

Katherine nods, Jane walks to her and puts Kat’s hand on her stomach.

“The baby is saying stop being so headstrong.” Jane laughs lightly, the baby kicking Kat’s hand.

The warmth on the woman’s laugh makes the younger girl relax.

Katherine Howard

I’m sorry, I over exaggerated. Don’t pick me up, but are we still on for next week?

(…)

Something good about the new apartment is how much space there is for the couch. A big pale blue sofa lays on the middle of the room, opposite to the TV. Katherine would be lying if she said she missed sleeping on the couch, her own bed being much comfortable, and her room made her feel protected. It was something she once had for granted, but having a place of her own was one of the best things that ever happened to her.

As usual of their late nights, they are searching for a movie. Streaming was good, it obviously was, but they had felt into the tradition of looking, going through channels. They found the same comedy months ago.

Watching it again comes as a silent agreement.

When the movie is half over, Katherine calls. “Jane.”

The older does not react, sleeping peacefully.

“I think you are asleep, which is good. I don’t know how to say it really, but I am so grateful and thankful and a hundred other words. You gave me a life again, the chance to be a person, to have joy. And you didn’t have to, but you did.” She squeezes the woman a little, careful to not wake her up. “You are going to be the best mom. I love you.”

Jane tries to not blow up her cover, but the slight smile shines through.

(…)

“Anne is my cousin.” Katherine begins to explain. “She is twenty-nine, and she has a little girl, Elizabeth, she is three. Anne is blunt, maybe impolite. She speaks her mind more than I would even think to, but she is also a good person. She pushes and asks me things I don’t want to think about, and it makes me angry when she does it. I also get angry when Jane asks me things I don’t want to answer, or begs me to do things I don’t want to.”

“Have you talked about this with them? Calmly, trying to understand each other.” Her therapist interrogates.

“No, not really. Jane loves to try and talk things out, but I feel nervous about it, I don’t like to talk about feelings.” She explains.

“Do you not like it or don’t know how to talk about it?”

The question plants itself on Katherine’s mind. It has been so long since the last time she had to actually worry about something that was not only her survival that she is not sure for how long she didn’t think about feelings.

Maybe it was when they stole her first backpack, or maybe the first night on the street. It might have been before leaving her house. She doesn’t remember feeling anything with Francis. Not even with Manox. Maybe her feelings have never been there until yet.

She wishes she knew how to express how much admiration she felt for the woman who showed her that not everything was lost.

(…)

“Jane! Anna called me, are you okay?” Katherine asks, running to Jane’s side.

Anne is by her side, looking worried with her car keys ready.

“Yes love, just a fake alarm. The doctor told me about this, fake contractions are a thing.” Jane explains.

“I just freaked out, okay? Cut me some slack.” Cleves complains.

“It’s alright, I had those for like two months with Elizabeth.” Boleyn puts a hand on Kat’s shoulder. “In case you want, I can drive you to the hospital.”

“No, thank you, Anne.” Jane smiles.

Their relationship was polite, they were not friends, but cared deeply for Katherine and were willing to do anything for the sake of their girl.

“Can you take us home?” Katherine asks.

Anne nods.

Katherine takes a moment to consider what she just said. Home. Jane, the baby, the new apartment. It was home, safe, secure. She felt loved there, at ease.

She wished she could just hold onto it and never let it go.

(…)

Jane feels her stomach constrict into itself.

A contraction, another Braxton-hicks. Except that it feels more painful, and a sense of unease settles in her stomach. She is only seven and a half months, the baby shouldn’t be coming, so she keeps with her chores.

Katherine picks up something that is wrong far too late into the night, her mind deviant and without having the chance to focus onto anything, even if she tried every exercise on her list. But once she does, she thinks it might be too late. Jane is having contractions almost every hour, and refusing to go into the hospital.

“Love, I swear I’m alright, there are still six weeks to go.”

“Don’t do this, let me take you to the hospital, as a precaution.” Katherine pleaded. “We might be in serious trouble if you keep refusing, if there’s nothing wrong we will come back and sleep and maybe watch a movie! But please, can we go?”

The older one takes the teenagers anxiety as something more worrisome that what is happening to her. She doesn’t want to make Kat feel insecure. Knowing her almost-daughter is in constant fear of abandonment, she decides to obey, just for her peace of mind.

(…)

Things are clearly not okay.

Her blood pressure is too high, and she has started to dilate. The doctors are quick to give her two shots, one to try and relax her muscles, in an attempt to cease the contractions, and another one with steroids, trying to help the lung development of the baby. Before Jane realizes, there are at least three beeping machines hanging around her.

(…)

“Love, have you talked with my family?” Jane asked.

Her contractions were more and more frequent, almost switching to active labour.

Jane wants to cry, feeling as if she failed her child. The doctors didn’t want to give her much information except for the stable vital signs of the baby. That was not enough to calm her down. She tried to be calmer, to don’t let her stress affect the birth, but she was beyond scared to be successful.

“I did, your parents didn’t text me back yet. Edward says he is coming, he is picking Dorothy. Elizabeth will be here tomorrow, and Thomas sends his best wishes but he can’t come.” Katherine explains. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore?” Jane tries to laugh, but a contraction hit. “I won’t lie, this is painful. Have you called Anne?”

“Yes, she was free to pick me up when I texted her. I don’t want to leave you alone, though.”

“That’s really thoughtful, Katherine.”

“Jane?” The doctor questions. “Can I check how it is progressing?”

She nods. Katherine holds her hand tightly. He checks the machines, and quickly calls a nurse. The teenager squeezes her hand, and she does the same maybe a little harder than intended.

“We have to do an emergency c-section. The baby’s heart rate is growing faster and your blood pressure is not getting any lower.” He announces. “Do you have someone to be with you?”

“Me.” Katherine quickly says.

“Are you over eighteen?”

“Yes.”

The way she lies feels almost natural, and Jane wonders for a second if she ever had to do that before. Her mind can’t focus on it for too long.

“Kat, you don’t have to come.”

“But I want to, really.” She gets closer and whispers to her ear. “Please, you have helped me so much. I have seen the worst things, I think. Please.”

“No, Kat, you are too young.” Jane says, firm. “Is there anywhere near but not in the room she can stay?”

“She can wait in the neonatal unit.”

(…)

They leave her in a corridor with a bright white light that is driving her crazy. Nobody tells her any news, and Jane’s family are supposed to arrive in a couple of minutes but there is still no trace of them. She feels helpless, unable to do anything and clueless enough to be insecure.

But then a nurse shows up with a baby.

“The mom is alright, but taking a nap.” She explained. “She wanted you to be the second to see him. She said you knew his name.”

The chat they had just months before still on her head.

“Edward. His name is Edward.”

(…)

“He is really tiny. And red. Are all babies that red?” Katherine asks her cousin.

“The ones that I know, yes. Elizabeth was quite big, but still red.” Anne smiles, remembering. “She had to be in a lamp and receive plenty of solar light because the doctors said she was yellow, though.”

“I don’t think he looks yellow, at all.”

There is a silence, not uncomfortable, but not at ease.

“How are you feeling about Edward?”

“What do you mean?” The younger questions.

“I know how close you got with Jane. When George was born, I was so upset, I almost cried for days. It took me a while, but now I love him a lot, even when he gets on my nerves.” Anne took Katherine ‘s hand in hers. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure.”

She didn’t have enough time to think about it, to process that now Jane was a mother. A real mother with her biological son. The space Katherine took was now belonging to Edward.

“I am anxious, a tad frightened and excluded, I won’t lie about it.” A feeling of being exposed started creeping up. “But Jane has been nothing but kind. I can’t feel bad about him when she loves him so much. I love him too, I know I don’t know him, but if he is a little like her, he is going to be a good guy, and God knows we need those.”

Anne smiled, and the teenager embraced her in a hug.

“I’m happy you think like that, Kitty.” She squeezes the girl. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Annie.”

(…)

“Jane, can we talk?”

Katherine is trembling, her voice not above a whisper.

To admit how much she adored the older woman was nerve wracking. She almost couldn’t remember how it was to have a mother, since hers died when she was so young. Mothers were probably like Jane. She felt protected, cared for, near her.

“Honey, I’m feeling tired. My legs are killing me. Is it really important?”

She wanted to say yes. To explain how important it was for her, how her life changed for the better since meeting Jane. How much it meant the fact that she felt seen.

“No, not really.”

(…)

Jane feels worse. The ibuprofen is no longer working and her fever is burning up. Not even the idea of going to see Edward can bring her out of bed. Her headache is just getting worse each time, and she feels as if she was going to throw up at any given moment.

Katherine was by her side, trying to help, bringing water and soup, ready for when her mother, or not mother, decides to order her to call for an ambulance.

And she waits.

But Jane never asks, instead Katherine calls when she seems to no longer recognize her voice.

(…)

The teenager is sitting outside the emergency room, in a hall without anybody near her.

Her mind is not there, though, and she feels as if she can almost watch herself as a third person would. Not sure of how much time has passed, she tries to focus on counting numbers, but it doesn’t work. The presence of a doctor doesn’t help either, not even when he tells her the dreadful news. It’s not until she calls Edward, the older, that she realizes what she is saying.

Internal organs shutting out.

Say your goodbyes.

Jane is not waking up.

[elizabethnotbennet]

Are you going to keep reading HP even though the books are littered with racism/sexism/verbal abuse/ physical abuse/xenophobia/slave rationalization/aids phobia with a hint of pedophilia?

lol hi purist anon. I know this is probably a troll, and that many people have talked about the subject in much more articulate ways than I can, but I’ll answer you all the same. Under a read more because, as you might have expected, this is going to get big.

First of all I’m honestly struggling to think of any hints of pedophilia at all, so if you want to clear that up the anon function is still turned on. Or, you know, if you want to do something more useful and enriching in your life you can just go read a non problematic and completely pure book. (Can’t be the bible - that’s also filled with all the stuff you mentioned here. Turns out slavery was in back then.)

Just to be clear, Jk Rowling is horrible and I don’t agree with basically 99% of what she thinks and says, so I’m not defending her at all ever. But yes, I will keep reading Harry Potter. In fact, I’ve just bought the whole series in English and will be reading them for the first time in their original format as soon as it gets here! yay! It’s a great series with a very compelling universe, which is made clear by the huge following it still has and the longevity the series has showed so far. JK’s bigotry isn’t going to end that.

About your accusations. Some of those are portrayed in text, like: The physical and verbal abuse Harry, Hermione, and Severus go through; The slave rationalization, which I’m assuming you mean what is done to the house elves; The blood supremacy thing, that is analogue to racism; etc. Those things aren’t flaws in a book, authors regularly write issues like that either to create conflict, which is essential to storytelling, or in order to highlight a real life problem. Some examples of critically acclaimed movies that did that: Hidden Figures, The Imitation Game, Brokeback Mountain, Annie, and several others. Some real life stories, some fictional, but they all had themes of racism, homophobia, and violence in some way.

Now, that is completely different than, say, the antisemitism that shines through on the portrayal of goblins in the Harry Potter seires. That wasn’t an attempt at criticism of prejudice, it was just straight up an attempt at confirmation that those prejudices are somehow “justified”. The portrayal of the house elves can also fall into this category, depending on how you look at it. The queer coding on the characterization of Severus Snape, and the transphobic characterization of Rita Skeeter, do too. The way these things are written is obviously problematic. I agree. But that doesn’t mean we should stop reading them. If we just stopped consuming any media that is in any way problematic or that was created in any way by anyone problematic... Well, we’d have a problem. 

We’d not allowed to watch any of the following:

Carol (2015)

Project Runway (anything under this brand)

Django Unchained

Drag Race (anything under this brand)

Kill Bill

Chicago

Gangs of New York

Lord of The Rings

Pirates of the Carribean

Scream

Pulp Fiction

Shakespeare in Love

The Hateful Eight

The Great Debaters

Any of the other 400+ credits on Harvey Weinstein’s imdb page

American Beauty

Se7en

House of Cards

Any of the 400+ credits on Kevin Spacey’s imdb page

Sweeney Todd

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Rango

Chocolat

Any of the 400+ credits on Johnny Depp’s imdb page

Anything Pixar released between the years of 1986 and 2006, and then Disney/Pixar until 2017. This includes:

Toy Story series

A Bug’s Life

Cars 

Incredibles

Incredibles II 

Coco

Bao

Inside Out

Frozen

Monsters inc 

Brave

Tangled

The Princess and the Frog

Ratattouille

This list is already way over 1k titles long, and I only looked up four people. I didn’t even count Woody Allen. Over 200 men were fired during the height of the Me Too movement alone, that’s not counting racism, homophobia, and religious intolerance. Speaking of,  you can’t  watch anything produced under the Hays Code either- officially 1934 to 1968, but it influences films to this day.

This is not to say “support your local rapist!”, but rather that this type of purist thought is not actually feasible. We can’t just stop consuming problematic media, we just have to be aware of what it is we are consuming.  There’s plenty of essays on tumblr about this, and specifically on J.K. Rowling/Harry Potter. One I found very easily is this one (x), but I personally reblogged multiple of those.

This type of thinking is actually very dangerous, we can’t deny that Woody Allen’s movies made an impact on directing. I personally cannot stomach watching his things, and that’s ok too, but that also comes with me understanding that there will always be a gap on my understanding of film and media due to my refusing to ever watch his things. For most people that’s irrelevant, but for someone going into working in the field it might become relevant, but it also might not. But it’s silly to think we can just erase film history until at the very least 1968 (even before Hay’s code, people were pretty racist. Segregation was a thing.), it’s just not going to happen, and ignoring the history makes it so we suddenly can’t understand why queer coding in villains is so harmful, and why LGBT stories in media always end up tragically. We need the history, because we have to understand those things in order to change them.

On another point, we just can’t write off contributions by problematic people. Should we all just collectively erase everything Simone de Beauvoir wrote and theorised on sexism? Are all the criticism made by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels on the capitalism system just irrelevant now, because we know they were racist? Should we erase Freud and everything he said about psychology? Will we disregard relativity theory and all contributions to quantum physics made by Albert Einstein?

[mcrmadness]

Music tag game

Got tagged by @hanhan156, thanks!

Again my texts got super long and you don’t NEED to write this much, just mention a song and go to the next one, but nope, not me :D I love talking about music anyway even tho I understand absolutely nothing of it but idc, at least I’m having fun XD (Plus I apparently haven’t been talking nor writing too much lately because of exhaustion and migraine so now all that talkativeness came out in the form of this post lol.)

☀️ A song stuck in your head when you woke up this morning: Today there was nothing, but I recently listened to the Lindemann album F&M again and have had those songs randomly play in my head. Currently I think it’s Knebel, but this other night it was Ach so gern (Pain Version) (it was playing in my dream and then I woke up with it still playing in my head) which I’m actually almost obsessed with now and I like this version so much more than the original version, and it might even be my favorite song on the album now :D The synth and chorus melody in this song is just what gets me every time.

⚠️ A song you love by a band you strongly dislike: I don’t really have bands I’d dislike? There’s just bands I love/like or don’t like. There’s some songs from bands or artists that I might even enjoy hearing when they play on radio (radio rant later on lol) but it just more of makes me disappointed and sad when a band does not have more good songs than just one or two. So I don’t really listen to them ever either because if something is good, I want MORE but when there’s no more, I just... it’s like “all or nothing” :D But I think I could mention here now a song that I’m pretty much obsessed with atm and it’s again the only good song I’ve heard from this band, and I know this band only because the singer-guitarist used to be in Apulanta in the band’s earlier times. This song is Korvaamaton by Varjo. I wouldn’t say I love the song tho, but currently it sounds pretty good but who knows, maybe I’ll find it boring in the future. But the last minute of the song is my favorite part of the song, I’m a sucker for instrumental music and long instrumental solos and that part is just amazing and I probably would find this song pretty dull and would not go back to it this often if it didn’t have that ending.

🙄 A song you dislike by a band you love: This is like the biggest unpopular opinion to exist probably but I just cannot stand Geschwisterliebe by Die Ärzte. I’m sorry Farin, but I just cannot listen to that song :D Sometimes it makes me feel so bad because it’s become so iconic song for the band and Farin seems to be kinda proud of it and I totally get that, but for my own personal reasons, I just cannot listen to that song. I never liked it even when I didn’t know what it was all about and even less when I learnt what it was about, and now it’s literally making me feel sick whenever it starts playing because I’m now so far at my German skills that I’m starting to understand German lyrics whenever I listen to music. And it’s just making me so uncomfortable because of my anxiety and stuff that I just always have to skip this song. The punk rock version they did a few times live is good, tho, that one I like but the original or other live versions? Not so much.

🐤 First song you recall from childhood: Hmmmm. This is hard because the FIRST song??? I remember so much music from my childhood and I don’t know if I should talk about music that was made for kids or maybe other stuff I was into as a kid. Probably my oldest music memory is again about movies, probably even The Lion King or Toy Story, or the Moomins! Those have definitely defined my taste in music too because I hated every Disney film with their boring songs but I loved The Lion King and even Toy Story had such a good soundtrack. But I don’t want to mention these as the first songs because technically they are not songs but scores... so hmmmm. Damn, this is so difficult! :D It’s probably some kids’ song I’ve been singing too, even tho I more often was singing songs I came up with while I was singing (and I stopped that somewhere when I was 7 years old or so). But gosh, I don’t know. I was often listening to the cassettes by this “rock band”, Fröbelin Palikat, that made music for kids in rock sound and damn they were good, my absolute favorite was “On vanha ukko kuollut”, it’s still pretty dope :D

And Rölli (originally a troll character that was to make music for kids but later got his own tv show and movies) was also awesome, I actually had the second album on vinyl and I was listening to that often, I think, and I still get nostalgic when I listen to that album and I’m sure it’s somewhere at my parents’ house but I just can’t find it anywhere! But Itsensäpelottelemislaulu is what I definitely remember from my childhood!!! The title means something like “A song to scare yourself” and I remember it being so terrifying when I was a kid, because he sings there things like there’s a scull somewhere and it made him scared, but it ended up being just an old football :D It’s like the definition of anxiety, first having panic over something irrational and then you find out it was nothing to worry about. And damn this whole album now, the next song also brings back some nostalgic memories that I can’t remember but can feel!!! I think this is it, this is the album and the first songs I can recall from my childhood.

😳 A song no one would believe you’d ever like: Hmmm... classical music! I don’t really listen to it because it’s super difficult to, like, start listening to? There’s so much and I have no idea where and how to start to. And I’m not into operas and I don’t know, it’s like it’s own world and you should know what you’re doing and it just sounds so difficult process so I’ve never done so, but sometimes, if I need music for concentration, I just look for “classical music for concentration/studying” or so from youtube and try to find something with Mozart in it. I don’t know too much about composers but I was very much obsessed with the movie “Amadeus” (-84) when I was younger and I still love that movie (I just rewatched it a few days ago!) and because of that movie, I notice some of Mozart’s music even now and I remember how at school we had to study composers, and how I liked Requiem already because of the movie but also overall I found it interesting, and I still get chills when I hear that certain part of this composition. I don’t even know how long this composition is and if there’s more to it than what’s in the movie and what was played to us at school, but I still like what I’ve heard and I’m always waiting for the moment this starts playing in the movie. Maybe I should go now and look for it from youtube and give it a listen if it’s not several hours long :D (I just looked for it and the full one if almost an hour long. Just like I guessed ::D But I also found a shorter video and omfg I’m getting so much chills from the violins and stuff.)

Of course it’s possible that I just associate the music so strongly with the movie because I also love movie soundtracks and video game soundtracks but I get obsessed with them only when I have seen a movie or played a game myself, otherwise it’s hard for me to get behind a movie/game soundtrack because the music usually is there to add more athmosphere to the events, so I think I love certain soundtrack pieces so much because they remind me of the events but I also feel so strongly about the events because the music is so overwhelmingly good there, and the combination is sometimes something that feels like it’s making my head to explode.

😯 A song you probably shouldn’t love but do: Why shouldn’t I tho? I don’t think I have any like these. But something I could mention here is that I don’t know why but for some reason, so often my favorite songs aka the songs with best melodies and sounds are either the most or only songs with some really strong sexual themes or vulgar stuff in them. And I don’t know why bands make the best music for songs with those lyrics??? I personally don’t really care about lyrics and the sound is what defines for me if I like a song or not so I don’t stop listening to a good song if I dislike the lyrics. But this is a reoccuring theme for me now and for example, one of my all-time-favorite Rammstein songs is called “Pussy” because of the melody and stuff. I have no problem with listening to the song but sometimes it feels a bit awkward if people are hearing because normally I’m safe here in Finland as not too many understand German, but this song also has parts in English in it and people here understand English a lot more. And I honestly don’t care what people think, but I just find this such a funny thing because I myself am an asexual. So I could’t even care less about sexual themes in anything but still so often my favorites HAVE those themes in them because bands just somehow makes those songs always sound the best :D And I have examples from so many bands and I still don’t know what’s with it because I literally don’t care about the lyrics there at all :D Or maybe it’s why - when I can’t relate to lyrics then it’s pretty much the same what they sing there and I can pay my full attention to the sound then. (But this doesn’t make sense because e.g. DÄ and Rammstein both sing in German and I’ve spent years without understanding a word and still I end up finding out my favorite songs are about the same themes. And there’s also another German band and my favorite song on an album has a vulgar word AS the title. So weird :D)

• You always switch it off when THIS one comes on: Pretty much just anything on radio. And the whole radio. Rage oncoming: I just HATE radio so much and at work it was always driving me mad when I wanted to listen to just _something but every channel and song made me angrier and angrier because they played nothing but shit. And even if the channel was okay, then the ads started to really get on my nerves. And some channels play this random compilation “ad” of the songs they play on their channel and when you hear this same clip with the same snippets of the same songs after every song, it starts to get REALLY frustrating. And you also start to memorize it too and whenever you hear some of the clips as a full song and that certain part comes, you actually hear the clip of the song that was next in this snippet compliation ad. This was why I started boycotting one of the stations. They also ruin songs for me when they use just one song from a band and play it every week. But to answer to the question properly: anything to do with Finnish reggae music. I just HATE THAT SO MUCH. It’s terrible, they sound like they don’t know how to sing or that they’re just standing somewhere with no posture and the wind is waving them around while they try to get random sounds out of their throats and it ends up sounding like they have super weak throats and it makes my throat hurt to listen to that (I don’t even sing but I can still physically feel people’s singing or speaking styles in my throat). I legit don’t know if it’s just the Finnish reggae style or if they are terrible singers disguised as reggae. I also can’t stand rap but especially not Finnish rap. Or pop songs that are nothing but random sounds made with computer and where they sound like a broken violin. So yeah, I have lots of hatred towards radio and what people nowadays call as music ::D (On top of all that, the radio station in Finland I hate the most plays only Finnish pop music. And it’s awful. And the same songs pretty much every day. Drives me crazy.)

💜 A song that makes you smile: Westerland (to the Max) by Die Ärzte, altho I’m from Finland even I’m already pretty fed up with this song so I skip the normal parts and listen to the funny ones only ::D And the other random remixes they did in the 80s always make me not only smile but laugh (Farin’s yodeling in 2000 Mädchen Wumme-Mix gets me every time), I normally hate remixes but DÄ has always taken that to another level too and I love it :DD

💔 A song that makes you cry: I don’t think I have any like this. I don’t really cry ever and especially not for songs, I can’t even recall ever crying for songs? o_O (WAIT now I know one! That one song in the Lion King where a major plot event happens!!! It’s called “To Die For”. I think pretty much everyone has seen this movie at some point but because of that scene, also the music alone makes me cry! :D  I’m listening to this one now and I’m already (almost) crying lol. But it’s again linked to a movie scene and not because of the music itself. Also Hans Zimmer is a genius and my other favorite movie composer.)

🔥 A song that gets you motivated: Anything with happy energy in it. DÄ’s music is often great for this, but especially their album Planet Punk. But sometimes I don’t get only motivated but bit too energetic too and then I become hyperactive and then I’m unable to focus on anything really but hey, at least I’m having the happy energy myself, then :D

I’ll tag @stufenlosregelbar and @cupcakecurl again :D And remember that you can just write there a song title and nothing else if you don’t want to, and not do as deep dive into music stuff as I did here ::DDd

[maryxglz]

Tom Hiddleston was posing for a portrait, and the face he showed the camera wasn’t entirely his own.

That had been his idea, to slip for a few moments into the character he’s playing on Broadway, in Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal”: Robert, the cheated-on husband and backstabbed best friend whose coolly proper facade is the carapace containing a crumbling man. And when Mr. Hiddleston became him, the change was instantaneous: the guarded stillness of his body, the chill reserve in his gray-blue eyes.

“It’s interesting,” Mr. Hiddleston said after a while, analyzing Robert’s expression from the inside. “It gives less away.” A pause, and then his own smile flickered back, its pleasure undisguised. “O.K.,” Mr. Hiddleston announced, himself again, “it’s not Robert anymore.”

It was late on a muggy August morning, one day before the show’s first preview at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theater, and Mr. Hiddleston — the classically trained British actor best known for playing the winsomely chaotic villain Loki, god of mischief and brother of Thor, in the Marvel film franchise — had been in New York for less than a week.

He’ll be here all autumn for the limited run of the production, a hit in London earlier this year, but he wasn’t going to pretend that he’d settled in. “I literally have never sat in this room before,” he’d said at the top of the photo shoot, in his cramped auxiliary dressing room, next door to the similarly tiny one he had been occupying.

He’d had nothing to do with the space’s camera-ready décor. So there was no use making a metaphor of the handsome clock with its hands stopped at 12 (“Betrayal” is famous for its reverse chronology; far more apt if the clock had run backward), or of the compact stack of pristine books that looked like journals, with pretty covers and presumably empty pages: a bit off-brand for Mr. Hiddleston, who at 38 has a model-perfect exterior with quite a lot inscribed inside.

Take the matter-of-fact way he said, in explaining that he’d first encountered Pinter’s work when he studied for his A-levels in English literature, theater, Latin and Greek: “It was a real tossup between French and Spanish or Latin and Greek. I thought, I can always speak French and Spanish, I can’t always read Latin and Greek, so I’ll study that and I’ll speak the other two.”

Though, to be fair, he only said that because I’d teased him slightly about the Latin and Greek, and I’d teased him — not a recommended journalistic technique — because he was so disarmingly good-humored and resolutely down to earth, chatting away as he waited for the photographer to set up a shot. It didn’t seem like it would ruffle him. He laughed, actually.

From a one-night reading to Broadway

In this country, Mr. Hiddleston is mainly a screen star, known also for playing Jonathan Pine in the John le Carré series “The Night Manager” on AMC. There are plans, too, for him to bring Loki to Disney’s streaming service in a stand-alone series.

But at home in London, he has amassed some impressive Shakespearean credits, including the title roles in Kenneth Branagh’s “Hamlet” and Josie Rourke’s “Coriolanus,” and a turn as Cassio in Michael Grandage’s “Othello” — a production that Pinter, saw some months before he died in 2008. That was the year Mr. Hiddleston won a best newcomer Olivier Award for Cheek by Jowl’s “Cymbeline.”

Jamie Lloyd’s “Betrayal,” which has a staging to match the spareness of Pinter’s language and a roiling well of squelched emotion to feed its comedy, is Mr. Hiddleston’s Broadway debut. Likewise for his co-stars, Zawe Ashton (of Netflix’s “Velvet Buzzsaw”), who plays Emma, Robert’s wife; and Charlie Cox (of Netflix’s “Daredevil”), who plays Emma’s lover, Jerry, Robert’s oldest friend.

Beginning at what appears to be the end of Robert and Emma’s marriage, after her yearslong affair with Jerry has sputtered to a stop, it’s a drama of cascading double-crosses. First staged by Peter Hall in London in 1978 — and in 1980 on Broadway, where it starred Roy Scheider, Blythe Danner and Raul Julia — it rewinds through time to the sozzled evening when Emma and Jerry overstep the line.

The most recent Broadway revival was just six years ago, directed by Mike Nichols and starring Daniel Craig as Robert, Rachel Weisz as Emma and Rafe Spall as Jerry. It might seem too soon for another, let alone one with sexiness to spare — except that Mr. Lloyd’s production is also marked by a palpable hauntedness and a profound sense of loss.

Reviewing the London staging in The New York Times, Matt Wolf called it “a benchmark achievement for everyone involved,” showing the play “in a revealing, even radical, new light.” Michael Billington, in The Guardian, called Mr. Hiddleston’s performance “superb.”

What’s curious is that Mr. Hiddleston, so good at bad boys, isn’t playing Jerry, the more glamorous role: the cad, the pursuer, the best man who goes after the bride. But Mr. Lloyd said that casting him that way was never part of their discussions.

Last fall, when Mr. Lloyd persuaded Mr. Hiddleston to read a scene with Ms. Ashton for a one-night gala celebration of Pinter in London, part of the season-long Pinter at the Pinter series, there was no grand plan. Having asked Mr. Hiddleston about a possible collaboration for years, since “just before he became ridiculously famous,” Mr. Lloyd said, this was the first time he got a yes.

“I just really admired his craft of acting, the precision of his acting, as well as his real emotional depth and his real wit,” Mr. Lloyd said. “And he’s turned into what I think is the epitome of a great Pinter actor. Because if you’re in a Pinter play, you have to dig really deep and connect to terrible loss or excruciating pain, often massive volcanic emotion, and then you have to bottle it all up. You have to suppress it all.”

This, he added, is what Mr. Hiddleston does in “Betrayal,” where characters’ meaning is found between and behind the words, not inside them.

“Some of the pain that he’s created in Robert, it’s just unbearable, and yet he always keeps a lid on it,” Mr. Lloyd said.

The scene Mr. Hiddleston and Ms. Ashton read at the gala appears at the midpoint of “Betrayal”: Robert and Emma on vacation in Venice, at a moment that leaves their marriage with permanent damage. Within days, Mr. Hiddleston told Mr. Lloyd that he was on board for a full production.

‘What remains private’

Photos taken, back in the faintly more lived-in of his Broadway dressing rooms, Mr. Hiddleston opened the window to let in some Midtown air — and when you’re as tall as he is, 6 feet 2 inches, opening it from the top of the window frame is easy enough to do. Then, making himself an espresso with his countertop machine, he sat down to talk at length.

“I’m always curious about the presentation of a character’s external persona versus the interior,“ he said. “What remains private, hidden, concealed, protected, and what does the character allow to be seen? We all have a very complex internal world, and not all of that is on display in our external reality.”

He can tick off the ways that various characters of his conceal what’s inside: Loki, with all that rage and vulnerability “tucked away”; the ultra-proper spy Jonathan Pine, in “The Night Manager,” “hiding behind his politeness”; Robert, a lonely man wearing “a mask of control” that renders him “confident, powerful, polished,” at least as far as any onlookers can tell.

In “Betrayal,” each of the three principals has an enormous amount to hide from the people who are meant to be their closest intimates. It’s a play about power and manipulation, duplicity and misplaced trust, and what’s so threatening about it is the very ordinariness of its privileged milieu. This snug little world that once seemed so safe and ideal — the happiest of families, the oldest of friends — has long since fallen apart.

But to Mr. Hiddleston, Pinter’s drama contains two themes just as significant as betrayal: isolation and loneliness.

“The sadness in the play — it’s not only sadness; because it’s Pinter, there’s wit and levity as well — but if there is sadness in the play,” he said, “I think it comes from the fact that these betrayals render Robert, Emma and Jerry more alone than they were before.”

Trust and self-protection

One-on-one, Mr. Hiddleston was more cautious than he’d been during the photo shoot, surrounded then by a gaggle of people affiliated with the show. Still, when I asked him about betrayal, lowercase, he went straight to the condition it violates.

“To trust is a profound commitment, and to trust is to make oneself vulnerable,” he said, fidgeting with a red rubber band and choosing his words with care. “It’s such an optimistic act, because you’re putting your faith in the hands of someone or something which you expect to remain constant, even if the circumstances change.”

“I’m disappearing down a rabbit hole here,” he said, “but I think about it a lot. I think about certainty and uncertainty. Trust is a way of managing uncertainty. It’s a way of finding security in saying, ‘Perhaps all of this is uncertain, but I trust you.’ Or, ‘I trust this.’ And there’s a lot of uncertainty in the world at the moment, so it becomes harder to trust, I suppose.”

An interview itself is an act of trust, albeit often a wary one. And there was one stipulated no-go zone in this encounter, a condition mentioned by a publicist only after I’d arrived: No talk of Taylor Swift, with whom Mr. Hiddleston had a brief, intense, headline-generating romance that, post-breakup, she evidently spun into song lyrics.

That was three years ago, and I hadn’t been planning to bring her up; given the context of the play, though, make of that prohibition what you will. Mr. Hiddleston, who once had a tendency to pour his heart out to reporters, knows that he can’t stop you.

“It’s not possible, and nor should it be possible, to control what anyone thinks about you,” he said. “Especially if it’s not based in any, um —” he gave a soft, joyless laugh — “if it’s not based in any reality.”

That’s something he’s learned about navigating fame — about being put on a pedestal that’s then kicked out from under him. He knows now “to let go of the energy that comes toward me, be it good or bad,” he said. “Because naturally in the early days I took responsibility for it.”

“And yes, I’m protective about my internal world now in probably a different way,” he added, his tone as restrained as his words. He took a beat, and so much went unsaid in what he said next: “That’s because I didn’t realize it needed protecting before.”

Even so, he doesn’t give the impression of having closed himself off. When something genuinely made him laugh, he smiled a smile that cracked his face wide open.

And the way he treated the people around him at work — with a fundamental respect, regardless of rank, and no whiff of flattery — made him seem sincere about what he called “staying true to the part of myself that’s quite simple, that’s quite ordinary.”

That investment in his ordinariness, as he put it, is a hedge against the destabilizing trappings of fame, but it doubles as a way of protecting his craft.

It’s also of a piece with his insistence that vulnerability is a necessary risk to take, at least sometimes.

“If you go through life without connecting to people,” he asked, “how much could you call that a life?”

[emeraldwaves]

Title: Step in Time For Momo’s Birthday! Pairing:  Todomomo Rating: T Word Count: 5,921 Read on Ao3 Summary:  

All day at Disneyland Shouto is trying to find the perfect time to ask Momo a very important question. Between her planned schedule, their friends, and all the rides they want to do, he just can't seem to find the right moment.

Full fic under the cut! Thanks to @amaisenshi for helping me with this one!

"I have a perfectly laid out plan," Momo said, unfolding the map while the two of them sat on the tram.

Shouto honestly wasn't surprised. Momo had been talking about Disneyland non-stop since they had all booked the tickets. She had researched peak hours for lines in the park, looked up which were the best rides to get fast passes for, and she had listed out which restaurants seemed to be the best choices for dining. (Thankfully, Shouto had been able to convince her to allow him to choose the restaurant for them.) Momo had also hosted various Disney movie marathons both for the two of them and all their friends, in order to get excited for the trip.

"Have you never been to Disneyland?" Kirishima had asked at one of the viewings she had set up at their apartment.

"Mmm, I have," Momo explained. "But I went when I was a little girl and I don't remember much about it," she said softly.

Needless to say, Momo had been more than excited and Shouto wanted to be certain she had the time of her life, even if that meant following her strict schedule for the entire day. As long as Shouto was given time for one thing...

On the tram, no one was sitting in front of them and Momo was able to spread out the map. Her dark eyes twinkled with excitement and though she was pointing to the map, Shouto found it hard to follow; he couldn't stop looking at her eyes. She truly had planned everything out, even down to her outfit. Her red dress with white polka-dots matched Minnie Mouse and the ears she wore. They were black with a cute red bow, placed on her head perfectly, her bangs still spilling in front of her face.

He was going to marry this girl.

If she said yes...

"So, what do you think? Are those the rides you want to do too?" she asked, turning to look at him. Her smile was wide, her eyes twinkling eagerly.

"Uh," he sighed, realizing he really should've paid attention to the map. He reached up and adjusted the black Mickey ears she had bought for him to match her. "Yes."

"Great!" she said, clapping her hands together. "I thought you would enjoy the Matterhorn, given your quirk," she teased playfully. "And you know, Pirates of the Caribbean is one of the rides Walt Disney oversaw the production of!"

"Sound interesting," he said, waiting for the tram to come to a stop before opening the door. He held it for her, letting Momo step out too, taking her hand as she did.

"Let's meet up with Midoriya-kun and Meli-chan!" Momo smiled, lacing her fingers with Shouto's. "They mentioned wanting to go on Pirates and Haunted Mansion too. Meli-chan said they're two of her favorites!"

The excitement was radiating off of Momo, even when she walked there seemed to be a slight skip to her step. Shouto squeezed her hand, working to keep up with her.

Walking towards the entrance, she looked so happy, humming along to the music as they stood in the small line to get into the park.

Stepping inside, she gasped and cupped her cheek, glancing around at the scenery right at the front entrance. On the grass hill leading up to the train stations, Mickey's face had been sculpted into the shrubbery and Momo immediately pointed. "Let's get a picture!"

"Alright," Shouto said. Disneyland was never a place he had thought about going. As a child, he had always appreciated the movies, but they never took family trips, so he had never been to any of the parks, not even the one in Japan.

Even with this trip, Midoriya had been the one to suggest it. He was moving to the states to study and work with Melissa Shield for a little while and had invited the majority of his friends to come with him for a fun trip to Disneyland. The girls had all been more than excited, Shouto too, though admittedly, he had ulterior motives.

He and Momo started dating their second year at U.A and moved in together immediately after graduating. Shouto hadn't wanted to live at home and the idea of being around Momo as much as possible appealed to him.

But now, a few years had passed and he wanted nothing more than to propose. He knew he was going to be the first of his siblings to potentially be married and he was definitely the first in their class to make that leap... but he knew he wanted Momo, no one else, so he didn't see the point in waiting.

And what better place to ask her than Disneyland, where she was beaming with happiness.

Of course, it would only work if he actually found time to do so in her jam packed schedule.

"Say Mickey!" The woman smiled, snapping the picture in front of the entrance.

"Thank you!" Momo said in English, bowing her head as she took the card to find their picture later. "Ahh, I'm so excited Shouto!" she said, holding up the small card.

Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers, kissing her softly. "Me too."

"S-Shouto!" she gasped, cupping her cheek.

"Couldn't help it," he shrugged. "You looked cute."

"...W-Well... we should... go meet Midoriya-kun and Meli-chan. I-I don't want to keep them waiting!" she said, and Shouto nodded, smirking at how flustered the small kiss had made her.

Making their way down Main Street, however, was a completely different task alone. Momo wanted to stop and look at everything. She watched each of the moving displays as they changed scenes, commenting on how magical it all looked.

She also wanted to look in the entire store, but Shouto had dragged her away, promising her they could shop later on before leaving the park. Uraraka, Bakugou, Kirishima and Ashido were all coming soon and Shouto could assume the girls would want to shop a little.

"To Pirates!" Momo smiled, but suddenly stopped and turned to face him. "Shouto..." she whispered. "Are you sure you're okay with the schedule I have planned?" She gently took his hands in hers.

Of course, he hadn't really listened to the schedule fully because she had been so distracting, but he couldn't imagine there would be anything he didn't want to do, especially if Momo was excited for it.

"Yeah," he said softly, glancing at their hands. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I-I don't know..." she stammered. "I-I just got so excited and I want to be sure you have a good time. I know you've never been here and... well... I want to make some amazing memories with you here today."

He felt his heart clench. He could've gotten down on one knee right then and just asked her, she looked so perfect. She always cared so much about his feelings and happiness.

"We already took a picture," he said, a small smile pulling across his lips. "So the memories have already begun."

"True!" she giggled. "I'm just... glad you're happy."

There were so many sappy things he could've said in response to that, but he didn't want to make a complete fool of himself so he nodded, squeezing her hand. "Let's go meet them."

"Right!" she said, continuing up Main Street as they continued towards Adventureland.

It was perfect. They could ride Pirates and Haunted Mansion with Midoriya and Melissa, then he would take Momo to a private lunch where he could propose. It would be romantic and she would love it. Or so he hoped.

The two made their way across the park and Shouto was certain he had never seen so many people in one place. Everyone looked happy to be there too. Well, mostly. There was one crying baby that looked miserable...

Momo kept their hands together swinging them back and forth as they passed by a giant treehouse, making their way under the bridge to the line for Pirates. Melissa and Midoriya stood by the entrance to the line, the two laughing as they chatted together.

"Midoriya-san! Meli-chan!" Momo waved, tugging Shouto closer to them.

"Todoroki-kun! Yaomomo!" Midoriya waved back, his face lit up when he saw his two friends. "Glad you made it! Where are the others?"

"Well," Momo sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Ochako-chan and Mina-chan were taking a really long time to get ready so... I decided Shouto and I should come earlier. But, I have a plan for the day."

"Oh?" Melissa asked and tilted her head as Momo took out the map.

"Mhm! We'll do this ride and Haunted Mansion! Then Shouto and I have lunch together, and then we can meet everyone for a picture in front of the castle. I also thought we might be able to get everyone to do Splash Mountain together! Then I want to take Shouto on the Matterhorn and maybe do It's A Small World," she said, pointing out all the spots on the map.

"Wow!" Melissa said, adjusting her glasses. "You really do have it all planned out."

"Mhm!" Momo giggled, walking into the line. She continued to talk with Melissa, showing her other spots on the map.

"Wow Todoroki-kun," Midoriya chuckled. "You might be tired tonight."

"Ah... yeah," he said, watching Momo talk excitedly about some of the things she had glanced at in the stores.

"Are you okay?" Midoriya asked.

"Mmm..." Shouto sighed, making sure to stay far enough away from the two girls. "I'm going to do it at lunch."

"W-What!?" Midoriya yelled and immediately covered his own mouth. "You are? You brought it?"

"I have the ring in my bag..." he said, twisting his lips. "It's a bad idea?"

"No!" Midoriya said, waving his hands about. "Yaomomo seems really happy to be here, especially with you so... I'm sure she'll be happy."

"I hope so..." he muttered.

"I-I'm hoping I can ask Melissa out on a date, but I... It's so scary. I-I mean I can't believe you're asking Yaomomo to marry you," he hissed.

"You should. Ask her out. I think she'll want to," Shouto nodded, urging his friend. Even he had noticed how Melissa acted around Midoriya.

The line for Pirates moved decently fast, mostly because the boats sat so many, and once they were on the ride, Shouto took a seat next to Momo.

"Our first ride! It's so exciting!" she cheered, clapping her hands together. The boat slid away from the station and she glanced to the side, gesturing to the restaurant. "That's the Blue Bayou restaurant," she sighed. "It would be so amazing to eat there."

"Hm..." Shouto muttered. "Well, I guess you'll be amazed."

Momo gasped, turning her head to face him. "That's where you got us lunch reservations!?" she asked. Her dark eyes glistened with the twinkling of the fake fireflies.

"Mhm," he nodded.

"I can't believe it," she said, watching as the restaurant slowly faded from view.

"Get ready you guys!" Melissa said, glancing behind them.

"Ready-?" Shouto began to ask as the boat tipped over the edge, falling down the small hill.

Momo let out a soft squeal and Shouto gripped the back of the seat in front of him. He hadn't expected this ride to have a drop. It wasn't that he couldn't handle it, but an unexpected drop threw him off guard.

The boat continued its journey, traveling through the caverns filled with creepy skeletons and darkly lit caves.

"You know," Momo said softly, leaning over towards Shouto. "The skull above the captain is apparently real."

"N-No way!" Midoriya said, glancing at the creepy skeleton head which hung above the bed on the wall.

"Mhm," Momo giggled. "It's kind of creepy. That rumor is supposedly true," she explained. "There's another rumor however, that Walt Disney himself is frozen and buried underneath this ride."

"Oh, that one isn't true," Melissa laughed softly.

Midoriya however, looked extremely pale. "A-Are you sure?!"

"Positive," Momo laughed, "you have nothing to worry about."

Despite the laughter between their group, Shouto had a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach. The ride was dark, but in some places the music was cheerful, and filled with jovial, drunken pirates, but it wasn't enough to distract him from the thoughts swirling in his mind. Lunch was creeping up on them, and he felt unprepared.

The ride came to a halt at the bottom of a large ramp, pulling them back up from the depths.

"You know a lot about Disneyland, Momo," Melissa commented.

"I did my research," she nodded, and they made their way up the road past New Orleans Square to the line for the Haunted Mansion.

"I hope this ride isn't too scary," Midoriya said quietly, leaning towards Shouto.

"Is it supposed to be?"

Melissa hooked her arm around Midoriya's. "I promise it's not that bad," she said, tugging him forward.

"No, it's meant to be fun!" Momo laughed, squeezing Shouto's hand. He loved the feeling of her hand in his. He wanted to keep it there forever.

The line for Haunted Mansion also moved quickly, the track once again in continuous motion. It was actually impressive, Shouto thought, how proficient they were at keeping the crowd flow moving.

When they got to the front of the line, they climbed into their cart together, the spooky narrator making sure to tell them he would lower the bar for them. Momo blinked, watching the bar bounce into place. "Incredible!"

"Did you research this ride too?"

"Of course!" she said quietly. "There are some interesting facts about this ride actually. A lot of tricks are done with mirrors," she explained as the ride pulled off.

"The endless hallway is a collection of mirrors," she explained. They continued along the way, Momo glancing around and taking in the spooky sights. Shouto knew he should be looking around too, but currently, he couldn't stop looking at her.

The cart pulled them into the hallway above the banquet room and she gasped. "This room," she said, gesturing excitedly. "They use projections to make it look like the ghosts are dancing. There's actually a giant sheet of glass and they have the animatronics dancing beneath us and they're projected onto that side of the room!" she explained. "Isn't that amazing!? Oh! And that spider web! It's actually from a toy gun! A child shot at it after sneaking the toy onto the ride and the bullet got lodged in the glass. Instead of bringing in a new one, they covered it up and made it look like a spider web."

"Wow," he said, genuinely listening to all her exciting facts.

"I-I'm sorry Shouto," she said. "I-I just got so excited researching things about this ride."

"You don't have to apologize," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "I like it when you're excited."

Even in the darkness he could see her cheeks flush. Perfect. Just the shade of red he loved.

As the ride continued on, she spat out other facts about the graveyard and the various ghosts scattered throughout. Riding with Momo had certainly been informative.

"Haunted Mansion is one of my favorites," Melissa said, stepping back out onto the pathway. "I especially like it at Christmas when they design it to look like the Nightmare Before Christmas!"

"We'll have to come back sometime for Christmas!" Momo said, clapping her hands together, and Shouto felt his heart tighten again. She would look so cute, watching the fake snow dancing around her, her pale face lit up by the magic of Disneyland.

"For now, we should get to lunch," Shouto said, glancing down at his watch.

"Great! We'll meet you guys by the castle for pictures!" Melissa said. "Deku and I are going to grab something to eat too!"

"See you," Midoriya said, looking wide-eyed and eager at Shouto. Thank god his green-haired best friend hadn't given anything away.

"Shall we?" Momo asked, and Shouto nodded, beginning the short walk back to the entrance of the restaurant.

"Mhm. I'm... glad you're having a good day," he said, squeezing her hand.

"It's been incredible! I can't believe you got us reservations for Blue Bayou! It's so expensive, Shouto, are you sure?"

"Positive," he replied quickly. In fact he had never been so sure of himself in his life.

Or so he thought.

Until they sat down and began talking. Momo was absolutely thrilled by the glowing ice cube they placed in their drinks, her face lighting up with the various colors as she stared. The more she talked, the less Shouto wanted to, the weight of the ring heavy in the backpack on his chair.

The restaurant was dark, and while it did have a nice, unique atmosphere... it didn't exactly scream romantic.

The food was delicious however, and Shouto hadn't realized how hungry he was, as they spent the day running around the park.

"I'm so happy we're here together, Shouto," Momo said, squeezing hand across the table when they finished. "I was nervous this sort of thing might make you bored, but..." she trailed off, her cheeks red as she turned away from him. "It's actually cute... watching you have so much fun. I'm glad I get to see it."

"I..." he froze. No one had ever told him they liked watching him have fun. Then again, it would not have been as exciting had Momo wasn’t there. "It's thanks to you," he said finally. "All your research and all your facts... they're amazing, I'm so impressed. It doesn't take away the magic for you?"

"Not at all!" she said. "It just... shows me how much love went into creating this park. They wanted to make a place where people could have fun and create memories and... I don't know... I guess I just like understanding what they were creating."

It made sense, honestly, and it was such a her answer. He didn't need anymore information to know the time was definitely right.

"Alright!" she said, jumping up from the table when her phone alarm rang. "We should go meet the others for pictures! There's so much more I want to do today!"

"Ah... wait..." How was he supposed to propose if she was just going to run off so quickly?

"We don't have time to wait Shouto," she said, a smile still on her face. "We have to stick to the schedule and we don't want to keep everyone waiting.

He glanced down at his bag before picking it up. No. The time was definitely not right.

Well, at the very least, they were about to meet up with their friends in front of the castle. Taking a picture with her and then getting down on one knee sounded romantic.

They made their way out of the restaurant, Momo gently clicking the color changing ice cube on and off. She giggled, holding it up. "I'm so excited we get to keep these."

"They are cool..." Shouto muttered. He didn't want to dampen her mood, but the more he put this off, the more stressed he grew.

He swallowed, following her as they made their way across the parking, exiting from Frontierland to head to the castle. "I hope no one is late," she mused quietly as they made their way over to the large castle. "It would really throw off the schedule."

Yes, heaven forbid they mess that up.

No. Shouto shook his head. He had to stop being negative. Momo was having fun and she had created the schedule to give them the best time possible. It wasn't because she was trying to be difficult. She didn't know what Shouto was trying to do.

Melissa and Midoriya were standing in front of the castle with Kirishima and Ashido. Shouto was admittedly a little surprised the two of them had even found the meeting location.

"Yaomomo!" Ashido cheered loudly, rushing towards her, pulling her into a hug. "So!" she said, and grabbed her hands, looking at them expectantly. "What did you say?! How was lunch?!"

Shouto felt his heart drop, and Midoriya looked his way, nervously shrugging. Obviously the green-haired boy had spilled to Ashido... who was far more dangerous than any of them.

"Say what?" Momo asked tilting her head. "Lunch was amazing! Shouto got us a reservation at the Blue Bayou!"

"What's that?" Ashido asked, thankfully distracted from her original question. Or maybe she realized there was no ring on Momo's finger.

"It's a restaurant inside by the Pirates ride."

"Oh my gosh what?! That's so cool!?" Ashido cheered and then immediately glared at Kirishima. "Why didn't we do something like that?!"

"I-I dunno!" Kirishima said, waving his hands quickly. "I-I didn't know you wanted to."

"We're at Disneyland, Eiji! I want to be treated like a princess!"

"O-Oh... sorry..." Kirishima said, looking disheartened. Shouto wanted to offer advice, but admittedly, he had no idea what to say. He didn't do well with loud boisterous people like Ashido. He was just happy the subject had been changed.

Momo had left to speak to a photographer, and she glanced around clearly looking for the missing couple.

"Ochako-chan!" she waved.

"Momo-chan!" Uraraka called out, moving to stand with her as she dragged Bakugou over. The blond didn't look like he was having a very good time, but then again, it was to be expected from him.

"I got us a few photos from the photographers so we can do a little photo shoot. All the couples can have private photos too, if they want! My treat!" Momo smiled, looking extremely excited.

"Are you guys having a good day? What have you done so far?" Melissa asked.

"We just did Space Mountain," Kirishima said.

"Mhm... I got a little dizzy," Uraraka admitted, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly.

"Are you okay, Ochako-chan!?" Midoriya asked, concern flickering across his green eyes.

"We sat down, she's fine," Bakugou hissed.

"O-Oh that's good! Thank you Kacchan," Midoriya smiled. Sometimes, Shouto wished Midoriya would be more aggressive when Bakugou was frustrated.

"What have you guys done?" Uraraka asked, oblivious to Bakugou's frustrations.

"So far, we've done Pirates of the Caribbean and Haunted Mansion," Momo said. "But I still would like to try the Matterhorn, plus we'll all be doing Splash Mountain after this if we want to stick to our schedule."

"Right," Midoriya nodded, looking determined to keep things as close to said schedule as possible.

Shouto and Momo were the first to take pictures, and Shouto clutched his backpack to his chest.

"You can leave that here," the woman said, gesturing to the side. Did he want to? He glanced back at Midoriya, who nodded eagerly, as if he had read Shouto's mind.

But they were in front of all their friends. As beautiful as the castle looked and as beautiful as Momo looked standing in front of it... he didn't want her to feel pressured to say yes because all their friends were looking.

Maybe the time wasn't right after all.

"Say Mickey!" the woman said.

They took their couple photos, letting the others go as well, and finally they finished off with some group photos. The photographer set them up, posing them in various ways, making them try out silly faces too.

"I bet Kacchan didn't even smile, even though we're in the happiest place on earth!" Midoriya teased, nudging him.

"Oi!" Bakugou snapped, swatting Deku away from him. "You should be fucking thankful I'm even fucking here!"

The two began to argue as Momo's phone alarm went off. "Splash Mountain time!" She immediately took Shouto's hand, dragging him back towards Adventureland.

"Ah, yes, let's head out." Shouto murmured, following Momo's determined gait.

Once in line, the girls started chatting to each other, and once again Midoriya and Shouto hung back, speaking quietly while the girls laughed and Kirishima loudly teased an angry Bakugou.

"So you didn't ask her?" Midoriya whispered, leaning in towards Shouto.

"No... she wanted to leave to meet up for pictures immediately after we finished eating..." he sighed. "I thought about doing it in front of the castle but... everyone was watching..."

"Ah yeah... that's... terrifying."

"I take it you haven't asked Melissa either?"

"Nope," Midoriya said. "Haven't found the right moment..."

Shouto twisted his lips, knowing that feeling so well.

They split off their group into two logs, one with Bakugou, Uraraka, Kirishima and Ashido, the other with him, Momo, Midoriya and Melissa. Midoriya had bravely decided to sit in the front and Shouto sat behind Momo, gently keeping his hand on her shoulder.

The ride was definitely the more daring of the rides they had ridden thus far, the twists and turns and ups and downs making Shouto's stomach hurt, especially because the lunch they had eaten was so large.

Then they began the long climb to the top, the music changing to an ominous tone. Of course, most of the animatronics had been extremely creepy throughout the entire ride, but still. Once at the top, Shouto heard Midoriya scream the loudest he ever had as the log shot down the steep drop. Shouto, admittedly, ducked his head, convinced they were about to hit the thorns.

When the log hit the bottom, the water splashed over the edge, soaking his leg. Worst case he supposed he could heat himself up to dry off.

Momo let out a yelp, shaking her arm out. "I-I didn't expect to get so wet!"

"It's called Splash Mountain for a reason!" Melissa teased.

The group climbed out of the boat, meeting up with the others, everyone lamenting about how wet they were. Though even with the sun beginning to set, it was oddly refreshing.

"Shouto and I are going to go wait for the Matterhorn!" Momo smiled, looping her arm around her. "We'll see you guys later on Main Street for the fireworks!"

She waved goodbye to the girls and led Shouto across the park. He was happy he had let her read the map, because he had no idea where she was taking them the majority of the time, especially as she dragged him across the square past the castle.

"The Matterhorn has two tracks," Momo explained. "Which should we ride?"

"You choose," Shouto chuckled. "I'm fine with either."

Her lips curled into a pout, her eyes filled with concern. "A-Are you not having fun Shouto?" she asked.

"N-No! I am," he stammered. It was true, he was having fun, he was just... stressed that he was running out of time.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Leaning down, he pressed their lips together once again. "I promise. It’s been a great day."

"Okay, so you still want to ride this?" she asked, gesturing to the line which wrapped around the side of the mountain. On the other side of them, Alice in Wonderland music played, echoing from the storybook ride.

"I do," he said, taking her hand as he pulled her into the line.

This certainly was not the place to do any sort of proposal. The line moved slowly, and Momo discussed some of her favorite Disney scenes, urging Shouto to the same. There was something so pure and innocent about the way she spoke of her love of Disney movies, like there was a spark of hope and magic Shouto didn't quite understand. But he knew his childhood hadn't been as normal as most.

"I'm so glad you're willing to listen to me, Shouto," Momo whispered. "S-Sometimes I think I ramble too much, but I'm glad it doesn't seem to bother you."

"It doesn't bother me at all," he said, shaking his head. "I like hearing about your passions." He wished he could've said more... everything he had been saying all day felt lame the more he replayed it in his head.

When they got to the front of the line, they finally slid into the bobsleds. The track was rickety, and creaked as the cars went along. They jostled onto ride, Shouto's hips slamming against the side. However, he did enjoy the icy coldness of the mountain, and the snow aesthetic. It was comforting, and for a moment he felt strong.

He was going to do this... even if he had to during the fireworks.

They stepped out of the bobsleds, exiting towards the walkway and Momo wobbled for a moment. "Woah..." she sighed. "That... made me feel a little woozy. A-And the yeti was surprisingly more scary than I expected!"

"Do you need to sit?" Shouto asked, gently grabbing her shoulders.

Immediately, she looked at her watch. "No... the fireworks are soon, we should get a spot... although..." She glanced up ahead, looking at the strange white building just down the way from them. It had a strange face on the front, rotating back and forth. "Do you... think we have time for It's A Small World?"

Shouto twisted his lips, wanting to break Momo of this tight schedule she had put them on.

"That... was one of the ones you really wanted to go on right?"

"Well yes but I-"

"C'mon," Shouto said, grabbing her hand as he led the way this time, tugging her towards the ride.

"But Shouto-"

"It's a short wait," he said, gesturing to the sign. "Let's just go. We won't miss the fireworks."

"Okay," she said, a smile pulling across her lips as they dashed into the line.

It only took about ten minutes for them to get onto the boats, the instrumental of the song playing on loop through the speakers as they waited to board.

"This ride does have some of the most iconic designs and animatronics," Momo pointed out softly, scooting into the seat next to Shouto.

They had gotten front seats and as the ride pulled away from the station, Shouto hugged his bag to his chest. Maybe right after the fireworks would be best... but... then there would probably be a huge crowd of people...

Maybe right before exiting the park.

His thoughts began to loop like the song playing on the ride. He tried to pay attention, especially when Momo pointed out the various hidden characters on the ride. She gestured to Aladdin and Jasmine flying on the carpet above them, Cinderella with her mice as well, Mulan was flying a Mushu kite... but all Shouto could think was one word over and over:

When.

When, when, when could he actually ask her?! Maybe asking at Disneyland was a horrible idea. This whole day he had followed her around, wanting to keep her as happy as possible and he couldn't do this one thing?!

Suddenly, their boat came to a halt inside the large white room, the song still looping and the small animatronic dolls still dancing.

"Please stay seated. Your world tour will continue shortly..."

They were stuck.

"Oh no!" Momo said, glancing around the room. "Are we stuck? Hopefully not for long." She pulled out her phone, staring at it. "We might actually miss the fireworks."

Shouto sighed and reached forward gently tugging her phone from her. "Momo," he began. "It's okay..." He needed to stop coming up with excuses. He had been waiting for her to slow down for a moment when really he should've stopped her. She was so worried about following the schedule, she had her mind so clearly focused on the next thing.

"But-!"

"We're stuck," Shouto said. "You can enjoy the ride you're on."

"But I wanted to make sure you got to see all the classics!" she exclaimed. "I-I mean we didn't even get to do Thunder or Space Mountain... or... or..."

"Me...?" he asked. Of course she was doing this for him and not because she herself was excited. What had he done to deserve such a perfect girl caring for him so much?

"Of course! I-I mean I know your family never did anything like this so... so I wanted to... make sure you had the best time possible."

He swallowed, feeling selfish suddenly for not appreciating her schedule more.

"Momo," he sighed. "I don't care what we do. Honestly it was... mostly fun for me to watch you get excited about it."

"Really?" she whispered, her cheeks flushing.

"Yeah... actually there's only one thing I've wanted to do all day."

"What? Have we not done it yet? We can! We don't need to see the fireworks."

He glanced around the room, noting how white it was... and for a moment all he could think about was Momo in a beautiful white dress, walking down the aisle...

Since they were stuck, they certainly weren't going anywhere. He supposed now was as good a time as any, despite the people sitting behind them. They were in their own little worlds, having their own conversations anyway. Letting out a sigh, he pulled his backpack onto his lap.

"We can do it right here."

"Huh?"

Reaching into the backpack, he pulled out the small box, placing the bag down.

Momo's eyes immediately widened, darting her eyes between Shouto and the tiny box. "S-Shouto! What?!"

"Momo..." he muttered. "I-I can't get down on one knee and no time has felt right all day... but then I realized it didn't matter if the time was right or not because we finally stopped and all that really matters is that... I'm uhm... I'm... you know... with... you," he said, slowly opening the box.

The ring was a moderately sized circular diamond, surrounded by sparkling red rubies. "Will you... marry me?"

"S-Shouto!" she gasped, lunging forward to wrap her arms around him. He clutched the box hard, trying not to drop it as she hugged him, causing the boat to rock. The people behind them began to murmur, until one of them realized what was happening and began to clap.

"O-Of course I'll marry you," she whispered, kissing him on the lips, holding herself so close to them.

"You will?"

"Yes!" she said, laughing immediately, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. "I-I wasn't expecting this at all."

"You... seemed so happy here, I wanted to make it unforgettable." He pulled the ring from the box and slid it on her finger, loving the way her face lit up.

Suddenly the ride lurched forward, drifting them towards the exit. Momo clutched her hand to her chest. "I-I'm honestly shaking," she whispered. "I-I can't believe this..."

"Y-Yeah..." he said, stepping out of the boat when it came to a stop. He held out his hand to her, helping her out of the boat. A few of the people on the ride congratulated them as they walked by, smiling and gently touching their shoulders.

As they exited the ride area, Momo tried her best to hold back tears that threatened to fall. "Shouto it... really is so lovely." She stood on her toes, standing up to kiss him and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "I love you so much." He knew they were standing right in front of It's A Small World, but he honestly didn't care. He was going to spend the rest of his life with the most perfect woman and he couldn't be happier.

"I love you too."

Suddenly her phone alarm went off, alerting them of the fireworks, which were about to begin.

"Looks like we can still make the fireworks," he whispered against her lips, pecking her.

"How about we walk over, slowly?" she said. "We have more time than we think," she giggled.

Quite frankly, they had plenty of time; forever.

[balkanballad]

Eurovision 2020 ranking

welcome to another year and another ranking. the last few years I used to put the songs in different categories, but this year I did that (from top 💐 to flop 🥀) AND gave every song an actual number AND added a comment. wow, so brave, I know. it’s a bit long, but here we go:

💐:

Norway: it was love at first sight and listen with this song. I connect with it, I love the lyrics, the instruments, her, everything about the nf performances. this is my very strong number one this year and, btw, the studio version is so much weaker than the live version

Switzerland: this song makes me very emotional and I love it. his voice is so lovely and with this one I, again, enjoy and feel the lyrics. I am very curious to see what they will do on stage

Australia: I wouldn’t say that I am always a huge fan of the songs with more goofy vibes and staging, but this one is a fave. I wasn’t in a great mood when I listened to this the first time and I remember crying because it was just very fitting to my personal situation. so, me and this song have an emotional connection now. also, I enjoyed the contrast that the staging in the national final gave it. it’s just.. same to everything about this song and performance. it’s also my favourite entry from Australia so far

North Macedonia: my only ‘dance’ song in this favourite category. it makes me wanna dance but in a tango and dimmed red lights way. I would also say that it made me think a bit of Switzerland last year, but I like this better

Croatia: another favourite entry that won a national final! I didn’t have a terribly bad year with national final faves. I might even say that I had a good year. anyway, a Balkan ballad :) with nice lyrics :) a bit sad and great violins :) of course I am into this. I love it

Portugal: I had this saved as a favourite before I saw the live performances and I really like that it won the national final. it’s super sweet, pastel pink vibes and my cup of tea

Finland: sweet! this makes me tear up a bit and I see a pattern this year for my personal preference: songs that make me melancholic and cry a bit. although, no one should be surprised because nostalgia and melancholy seem to always be with me

Denmark: while I was making this ranking and listening to the songs over and over, I think this song moved up the most. this is very sweet. last year was too sweet for me and I think this one is better, but on the edge to crossing that line. however, I love that we have a duet. I’m a big fan of duets. is someone going to propose this year again? this song would be at least perfect for that occasion. or maybe a bit too pushing actually.. 

🌺:

(no. 9) Israel: maybe a tiny little bit too much going on in a 3-minute song and something about it reminded me a bit of JESC songs, but I love the rhythm and I think this performance will be fun 

(no. 10) UK: it’s a good song. the breath! part makes it more interesting and I have this song in my car playlist, which means that I am not skipping it usually. however, I also came across the BBC recording and I am not very convinced that the staging and everything will be enough to secure it a high placing in the end

(no. 11) Romania: oh look, I once again connected to a song because I feel the lyrics. that is probably not the best sign with this song but oh well. I am not the biggest fan of the live version here and prefer the studio recording. maybe another bad sign or maybe it’s just the weird screaming in the back and low quality of the equipment etc.

(no. 12) The Netherlands: I don’t think that they are trying to win another time this year with this, but it’s a cute and sweet song and everyone will cheer anyway. I listened to one live recording and there he sounded amazing

🌻:

(no. 13) Armenia: maybe this would be a guilty pleasure, but it’s 2020 we are just enjoying songs. I think the staging for this song will decide how it goes because the song itself is definitely.. different and not for everyone. the studio version is a lot better than the live performance, the lyrics are a bit repulsive to me and I feel like this could slip in the category ‘cheap’, but the whole song also gives me a weird kind of self-confidence boost when I listen to it 

(no. 14) Azerbaijan: okay, so the song title made me very excited. the lyrics are.. there. I don’t think I was looking for something relatable in this song, but they are just very random to me. funny enough, I think this will be competing with Armenia because of similar vibes and because a lot depends on the staging. however, I think that this might do better because it’s more esc mainstream and has a better flow, but then again, maybe don’t rely on me when I say such things  

(no. 15) Greece: this sounds a bit like a JESC entry to me and I have mixed feelings about it. with this I am also not sure what the message is supposed to be, but I really like the instruments  

(no. 16) Estonia: hm. I must admit that I like this song more than I want to, but I don’t love it. I like the dramatic touch, but it’s not relatable at all, which isn’t necessary a factor for a good song of course. I just like having my emotional support songs and this is not one of them 

(no. 17) Poland: this and Albania are in the same semi and sound too similar, so my prediction is that only one of these two will go through. personally, I like Poland better, but even if none of them makes it, it won’t break my heart I think

(no. 18) Spain: this song feels a lot longer than 3 minutes and it might be because it’s repetitive, but I can listen to it still. just not too often

(no. 19) Lithuania: this is a fan fave, right? personally, I’m just.. not in love. I like the message, but I don’t feel the need to listen to it regularly 

(no. 20) Iceland: it’s alright. it’s there. I can’t really think about things to say about this  

(no. 21) Italy: a ballad. in Italian. ground-breaking. just kidding, I think the fact that it’s in Italian saves it a bit, but I don’t really listen to this. I don’t mind it playing in the background, but it’s also not in my car playlist

(no. 22) Ukraine: I feel like I should technically like this more than I do, but I don’t really listen to this, sorry

(no. 23) Belarus: just like with Ukraine: I think I should like this a lot more than I currently do. I also find this song a bit boring

🌼:

(no. 24) Georgia: not a fan of the screaming, but I see why it fits the song. I am not sure, though, whether this will be the year that they make it back to the final 

(no. 25) Albania: did anyone ask for the English revamp? I don’t think so, but they did it anyway. it is too forgettable for my taste and reminds me of something that they sent already in the past few years, but now it’s in English, so even less original. it isn’t a bad ballad though

(no. 26) Ireland: I know what this song is trying to tell me, but it is trying very hard to make sure we all understand it. it also reminds me a bit of a song that they would play in a disney channel film and it annoys me a bit

(no. 27) France: I might not skip it always, but it’s very repetitive and I still stand with my association of the Netflix show YOU and this (sorry, Tom)

(no. 28) Austria: my friend said that this song sounds like it should be by Sweden and I think that she is right. I never really was into that kind of vibe though, so I am not the biggest fan

(no. 29) Germany: not terrible, but also kind of strange vibes. I don’t like the lyrics (I will tell my mama whatever I want). I also think that Germany took inspiration from Switzerland last year and who knows, maybe they will finally start playing their own songs on the German radio stations and stop playing Sweden’s 2016 entry

(no. 30) San Marino: San Marino is once again bringing the disco vibes, thanks. I can’t watch the video twice in a row because it makes me feel like I’m on a trip, but good for her! I should definitely also get a little more freaky myself sometimes

(no. 31) Sweden: I’m not a fan. I was a fan of other Melfest entries though.. anyway, this is not a bad song of course, but definitely a bit boring to me

(no. 32) Moldova: I don’t hate it, and some very few parts of the melody I even like, but this is my least favourite Kirkorov produced, or written or bought or pushed through or whatever he does, song

(no. 33) Bulgaria: if everyone should find a similar partner then Bulgaria could team up with Romania this year. I find Bulgaria to be a lot more boring though

(no. 34) Cyprus: keep on running and keep on running and keep on running.. etc. etc. etc. this is how I feel when I make myself jog once a year 

(no. 35) Malta: sounds very familiar, but I haven’t figured out yet which generic pop song it reminds me of

(no. 36) Belgium: yet another year and I am sadly bored by Belgium’s entry yet again

🥀:

(no. 37) Czech Republic: to this song I imagine the scenario of a school mate, that you aren’t too close with, but he is friendly, so you listen to the songs he made himself and uploaded and then you assure him that it sounds cool and you will add it to your music collection, but then you don’t ever listen to it again. this never happened to me, but that’s the vibe somehow. it’s just not really my kind of song and it also misses a bit of a real concept and flow because, even after the revamp, to me it still sounds a bit unpolished

(no. 38) Serbia: nop. I am very much for wmn pwr but I don’t like this. I get very strong mean girls vibes from it and I don’t say this as a good thing because I would rather not get bullied. I despise the lyrics and overall, everything, but I see why one would call it a ‘bop’ perhaps

(no. 39) Russia: when they were announced I looked them up and already was skeptical. most of the time this simply isn’t my kind of genre, humour and taste, and I was right. it annoys me. I am sure, like with every song btw, there is an audience for this, but I am very far away from being that audience

(no. 40) Slovenia: I’m sorry, but I really don’t like her voice, which is not a good thing, obviously, when ranking songs. I also find the song quite boring and it is another example of songs that somehow feel longer than 3 mins

(no. 41) Latvia: this gives me a headache. I don’t understand the lyrics, the music makes me want to leave the room, it’s a no from me and my last place

[peaceisadirtyword]

New skirt (Modern!Hvitserk/Reader)

A/N: This is a request from the lovely @red-for-ivar💕 I had it already written but I didn’t like how I wrote it so I started from the beginning this morning! And here it is😅 I hope y’all like it and I don’t disappoint anyone (I still think I'm not able to write Hvitserk very good, but I’m trying). Btw the title sucks I know sorry😂

Warnings: Smut, harassment from a boy that does not know what the word no means, Hvitserk cries with Disney movies and that’s canon, he’s a puppy but also can be scary. 

Words: 2691

gif belongs to @vikingdrabbles 

Some boys didn't really understand the word no. 

It had happened more than once, in nightclubs, bars, even on the streets. They tried to grab you, touch you... They thought they had the right to do it, because you were just a girl. They didn't mind how many times you said no, put their hands away or move so you wouldn't be too close to them. 

At least, that happened every single time you were with your friends hanging out. 

But it had never happened inside the high school. You thought you were safe in there, with all the teachers... 

You were wrong. 

This guy, John, had been in your class for years, always flirting with all the girls he could, even the English teacher, who was only 29. But he had never paid any attention to you. 

Everything changed that day after Valentine's Day. Someone very special to you had gifted you a beautiful skirt, shorter than the ones you used to wear, but you felt so sexy, comfortable and pretty wearing it you didn't really care about what others might think. You wore it the next day because you couldn't wait. And you felt so confident wearing it,  so beautiful... Of course, someone had to ruin that beautiful feeling. 

John noticed you almost immediately, when you entered the History classroom chatting with your friend, with a big smile and your hair up in a ponytail. 

He asked for a date that day, but kept insisting even if you turned him down with a polite smile. You already had someone. 

Even then, weeks after, he kept asking you, every single day. You tried your best to be polite to him, to reject him with a smile and a sigh. But that day he hadn't just asked you out. He touched you. 

You were wearing the skirt again. It was Friday and after class you were going to meet your boyfriend's mother. You were nervous and didn't know what to wear. Finally, you chose the skirt and a lovely black shirt that combined perfectly. 

The halls were empty as you walked down to the main board next to the principal's office. You had missed the bus and were late to first period, so you decided to skip Science and look at the grade you got on your last History test, as the teacher promised he would put them in the board first thing that morning. 

You smiled softly when you saw the A+ next to your name. History had always been your fort, though you needed to study very hard for that exam. Just when you were about to turn around and go to the library, or maybe outside to read a bit, someone put their arm over your shoulder. You stopped smiling immediately. 

"John" you got away from him "What are you doing?" 

"Just looking at my grade" he shrugged, his eyes traveling down your body and making you uncomfortable. 

"Okay, do you have to touch me to look at your grade?" You were starting to lose your patience. It was Friday, an amazing day to meet your boyfriend's family and then going out with him a bit, maybe sleeping at his house. You refused to let him ruin your day.

"Why so rude? I was only going to wish you a good morning, and tell you you look really pretty today"

He licked his lips and you frowned in disgust. 

"I think you can wish me a good morning and all of that without invading my personal space and looking at me as if I was a piece of meat"

He raised his hands, laughing softly.

"Don't be so defensive, love, tell me, do you have any plans for the weekend?"

"Yes, I'm going to spend it with my boyfriend" you raised an eyebrow.

"That boyfriend you made up so you can make me jealous?"

"Not everything is about you" you rolled your eyes "Listen, I already told you no like a thousand times, why don't you leave me alone?"

"Because I know you're playing hard to get, and I'm enjoying the game"

"Look, I'm not playing hard to get or anything like that, I just tell you no because I'm not interested, and you have no right to stalk me, touch me and all of that because I don't want to go out with you" you sighed, knowing it didn't matter how many times you told him, he wouldn't listen. 

"I really like this skirt on you" he ignored you, making you scoff "You should wear it more often"

"I shouldn't do anything" you pressed your lips together, wishing you could just slap him to make that annoying grin disappear "I don't wear this so you or any other guy look at me, I wear it because I want to wear it and I like it, so please don't think I dress up for you or for anyone else because you're wrong"

"Aw love, don't be like that..."

"Don't call me love, my name is Y/N" 

"Of course, love..."

His hand touched your arm, and as you were putting it away, furious, someone else spoke. 

"Is there any problem?"

Hvitserk. You smiled softly when you saw him approaching you. Ubbe, Sigurd and Ivar, his brothers, were a bit more far away, watching Hvitserk approach you. 

You had met him in the library. He also had quite a reputation, but he managed to make you blush and laugh in ten minutes. You knew he wasn't serious with you, or anyone, but you liked him and... Why not have a bit of fun? 

After the first night you spend together, having sex and playing video games on his bedroom one night his mother wasn't home, he realized the night was shorter than ever. 

Ubbe and Ivar made fun of him for days when he called you that Sunday morning, only one hour and a half after you left his house, he missed talking to you...

Hvitserk didn't do girlfriends. The closest thing to a girlfriend he had was Margrethe, and she was with all the four brothers at the same time, though she had a special bonding to Hvitserk, it couldn't be considered a relationship. 

But, to him, you were different. He didn't want Ubbe or Sigurd touching you, even looking at you the way they looked at Margrethe. He didn't' want Ivar's predator eyes on you, and he certainly didn't want to see you tied to his bed and playing those dangerous games he liked. With Margrethe, he didn't mind it. He even liked it. But with you... 

And he definitely didn't like the way that guy was trying to touch you, even though you told him no. 

John frowned at him. He knew who he was. Everyone in high school knew who the Lothbroks were.

And he was smart enough to take some steps away from you. 

"Hvitserk..." You started, knowing he was angry. 

The Hvitserk you knew was nice, funny, adorable and cried while watching the Lion King. But that was your Hvitty, people knew another person completely different. 

"Who the fuck are you?" yeah, he was angry. 

John looked confused.

"I..."

"Why were you trying to touch her? I saw her getting away from you, should I explain to you what does that mean?"

"No, I was just..."

"Then what?" He was intimidating, and his brothers behind him looked like bodyguards "Didn't she tell you no?"

"Yes, but I thought... Relax, dude, I didn't know she was your girl"

"I told you I had a boyfriend" you scoffed "But even if I was single, you should have left me alone when I first asked you"

"You heard her" Hvitserk pushed him away, and John widened his eyes with fear "Now leave, and if I see you bothering her again you will regret even looking at her at all"

John left quickly, glaring at you before looking down as he passed next to the Lothbroks, who looked amused watching the scene.

"I would have cut off his balls" Ivar shrugged "You're too soft" 

You could swear John whimpered in fear before turning a corner and disappearing. 

Hvitserk ignored his little brother as he turned to look at you. He didn't have that threatening glare anymore, but that small smile he always had with you.  

"Hey, are you okay?" He hugged you.

"Yes, but I didn't need you to scare him away, I could do that by myself"

"I know that, babe, but I just couldn't stand there watching him try to touch you..."

"Are you jealous?" You got away from him, chuckling. 

"Me? Jealous of that brat?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes "No way"

"Well, don't be, I don't think he's approaching me anymore..."

"Hey, you two" Ivar rolled his eyes "We were in a hurry, weren't we, Hvitserk?"

"Keep going" Hvitserk shrugged "I need to talk to Y/N for a moment" 

You frowned, worried... Was he mad at you? 

"You two are going to make me throw up" Ivar started walking away with his crutch, as Sigurd smirked and followed him. Hvitserk approached Ubbe for a moment, whispering something on his ear. Ubbe smirked and nodded, giving his brother something that he took out from his wallet. You narrowed your eyes with curiosity as Hvitserk put it on his pocket, you supposed it was money, but why was Hvitserk asking Ubbe for money?

"See you later, Y/N" Ubbe winked at you before turning around and leaving. 

Hvitserk waited until he was out of the building to turn and look at you again. 

"What did you want to talk abo...?"

But he didn't let you finish, kissing your mouth hard and with his strong arms around your waist. You moaned in surprise, and soon felt the wall against your back, Hvitserk's body pressing against yours while his tongue traced your lips. 

"Nothing in particular" he smirked before attacking your lips again. 

Hvitserk was possessive. He discovered that side with you, and hell yes, he was jealous of that stupid guy that thought he had the right to pursue you "For how long has he been trying to hook up with you?" 

"He was just asking me on a date" you bit your lip, looking into his beautiful green eyes "And for some weeks... I always told him no"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he brushed his nose with yours, his hands softly caressing your waist "We could have ended that a long time ago"

"It was my problem, besides, I knew you'd be jealous" you smiled 

"I'm not jealous" Hvitserk frowned "I just don't like the way he was looking at you and how he tried to touch you, that's all, but I'm a viking, vikings don't get jealous"

"Of course, whatever you say" you kissed his nose, making him blush and smile. 

The vicious and dangerous Hvitserk Lothbrok blushing because of a simple kiss.

How cute.

"I love this skirt" he groaned when he felt the soft skin of your thighs.

"Well, I hope so, you gave it to me" you raised an eyebrow.

"Wanna know a secret?" He chuckled nervously "Mor and Ivar chose it... I showed her a photo of you and she said you'd look beautiful with it, so I bought it for you" 

You widened your eyes. 

"Really? I mean, I believe your mom's part but... Ivar?"

"Yeah, he's actually quite good at fashion" he shrugged "They were right after all... You do look beautiful"

He kissed you again, and you smiled into the kiss, tangling your fingers on into his honey colored hair. 

But when his hand started traveling under your skirt, you broke the kiss.

"Hvitty... You know we are in the middle of the school, right?" 

He hummed, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You felt him smiling against your skin. 

"We're lucky there's toilets near, aren't we?"

"Oh my god" you rolled your eyes, still smiling "Are you serious?"

"Do I ever joke when it comes to sex?"

Yeah, he was like a puppy, but a very horny one that's for sure. 

You entered the girl's bathrooms, not truly believing you were going to do something like that. You never thought you'd fuck on the school toilets, but there you were. 

Hvitserk pushed you into one of the cubicles, closing and locking the door. You just hoped there was no one inside the bathroom.

He kissed you again, this time slower, softly pushing your body against his. You moaned into his mouth, already wet for him and moving your hips against his. 

Hvitserk's hands grabbed your thighs, and you jumped and hugged his waist with your legs. 

Wearing the skirt that day was the best idea you could have. 

He only had to put aside your underwear and his fingers touched you where you needed him the most. You moaned softly and moved your hips against his.

"We have to be a bit more quiet than usual, okay? We don't want to be expelled, do we?"

"Shut up" you took his head and kissed him again. His fingers caressed your sex, avoiding your clit. 

"I need to taste you" he panted against your lips.

He didn't mind he was in a public bathroom, he needed to have his time with you, to make you orgasm a few times before him. 

"Hvitserk we don't have time..." You panted. 

But he didn't listen, he kneeled in front of you, keeping your legs apart with his hands, and then he licked your core. His soft and warm tongue pressed on your clit and your knees weakened. You grabbed his shoulder with one hand and put the other one on the wall next to you to support yourself. Hvitserk's fingers went back to your entrance.

"Oh my god" you moaned out loud, not really caring if someone heard you, when his fingers entered you. 

You didn't last long, with his tongue licking at your clit and his fingers curling inside you, and when you came, you did it covering your mouth with your own hand, muffling your scream as Hvitserk licked you clean until you got away from him, too sensitive.

"That's it, princess, you did it so well" he praised into your ear, caressing your waist "Now, you have to be even more quiet" he whispered before capturing your lips with his again. You moaned out loud as he put your legs up his waist again, unbuckling his pants. His hard cock pressed against your thigh and you moved your hips again, eager to feel him again. 

Hvitserk chuckled and took a condom out of his pocket, then kissed you again as he put it on and entered you slowly. You moaned into the kiss, biting his lip to stop yourself from moaning louder and louder. 

He started moving his hips, groaning and biting your collarbone. Both of you were very vocal while having sex (which Ivar had remarked a few times in your presence, as his bedroom was next to Hvitserk's), so keeping quiet wasn't easy for either of you. 

You were sensitive, and a part of you was still worried someone would caught you, so you it wasn't long until you felt the familiar tightness on your lower belly and your walls started clenching around him. Hvitserk cursed lowly and quickened the pace, his lips pressed against your neck.

"Fuck princess" he moaned "Cum for me, love, come on" he bit your neck as your walls tightened even more around him.

You came trembling on his arms. Your orgasm wasn't even over when Hvitserk groaned loudly, and his thrusts became sloppy as he came inside the condom. 

You panted with your forehead pressed against his, as small smile on your lips and your legs still shaking around him. 

"What classes do you have now?" He asked, out of breath.

"Literature, English and Maths" you muttered, closing your eyes.

"That means we can go to my house and have round two in there, right? Mor will be back late"

You raised an eyebrow. 

"I can just skip class to have a round two with you"

"Okay, fair enough, what about round two, three, four, five....?" 

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