#like I’ve already seen people comment on how all american bitch sounds like start over by Miley Cyrus

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

The interesting thing about Olivia’s music is that sonically it reminds me of music I’ve heard before but lyrically it’s new and unique.

[erodasfishtacos]

could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on. 

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon. 

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!” 

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

**

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

**

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

**

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

**

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.  

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous. 

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

**

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub! 

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

**

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself. 

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him. 

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

**

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed. 

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen. 

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N. 

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny. 

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl. 

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

**

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body. 

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

                                  -- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her. 

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips. 

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.

[xaysnotebook]

Chapter 1 - Behind Colored Eyes

“I told you it was pointless to even try to study for that test! It was made to screw over your final grade.”

“I know, but at least we got a passing grade, almost everyone failed besides us.” Alex replied, pacing unevenly. The psychology final was played as the hardest final outside of the math department, and they had been one of the few students to get a passing grade. The only cost of this is that they skipped out on work for a couple days and stayed awake for possibly a little too long. 

“Well, I know you’re hungry, how about that new restaurant down by Semia’s house? It’s some Italian place I think.”

“I would love to, but you know I can't afford it, and I am not asking for money again.” Alex was already in debt because of college, they also had a personal debt to their parents for more than a month of rent and food bills.

“If you say so, you could always dip into your savings again. You need a little bit of a pick-me-up. You could always talk to Sandra.” That last comment made Alex stop in their tracks, their gray eyes almost glazing over with anger. “Alright, that was too far I already know. I’ll leave you alone for a bit.”

“Damn, Jason.” Alex thought out loud, earning him a questioning glance from a couple walking nearby. Jason was good to keep around for simple conversation, but he was definitely able to turn rude quickly. Alex started back towards the apartment, feeling slightly more lonely than before, but nothing they weren't used to. They were a generally lonely person for multiple reasons, but any time they got left, it felt a bit worse.

Alex was a scrawny but tall person, standing at about six foot two while actually standing up straight. They had a mess of blue hair that was starting to fade from being in the sun too often. With a smaller nose and piercing gray eyes, they had been compared to a blue raven before, actually being called Raven by some coworkers and friends. They were also born a male, but had chosen to live by the “they” pronouns when they were around seventeen, being easily passable for both genders and drifting around on what they felt like on a minute to minute basis. Now they were almost twenty-one, and already knew it was going to be another bland birthday, most likely spent with Tasha.

As they walked up to their apartment building, they heard the sound of loud music playing and quickly assumed it was Tasha. However there was a distinct feeling that they were being watched. After glancing about, they noticed a peculiar pair of yellow eyes staring through a set of blinds. For obvious reasons they were taken aback and quickly scurried to the front door of the apartment complex. After going inside, they made a wide path around the strange apartment and got to their own. From the door, it was clear that Tasha was blaring some assortment of rap music, and easily loud enough that they would get a noise complaint later for it. Pushing through the front, Alex found the living room in tatters, the dining room full and random cups leftover, and a clearly hung over Tasha sleeping on the kitchen floor. After turning off the music, Alex walked over to the fridge, nudging Tasha with their foot on the way only to hear a slight grunt. How anyone could sleep with that loud music playing, on a cold floor was beyond Alex, but they knew Tasha was used to it by now. She was in her last semester, graduating with two majors and a minor in only four years, something that would take most people at least eight.

Tasha was the type of person that was born hyper-intelligent, and hated every minute of it. As such, she rebelled by being a straight A student, with an insane party life. She was a chubby Native American girl with long black hair that was almost always braided, bright green eyes, and a large birthmark across her left eye. When Alex had first met her, they had seemed like polar opposites, and almost resented each other. Then they were put as roommates in their first year, and before Christmas break had become best friends, almost inseparable.

“Tasha, wake up, You need to eat something before noon.” Alex whispered as they bent over to shake her awake. “I ate before I drank. I think I’ll live, Alex.” Tasha muttered sleepily, trying to cover herself with aluminum foil.

“Yes, but you also have a test at three to finish your mathematics major, and you need to need to finish your project with Janet.” Janet had made extra sure to yell at Alex before they left campus.

“Ugh, fine,” Tasha said groggily as she rolled over to face Alex, her eyes still blurry from exhaustion, “but only if we can go to the coffee shop. I need my fix!”

“Then let’s go and get your drugs, but you’re buying this time!” Alex said, feeling that all too familiar shift in balance within themself, almost like a subtle knock on the back of their head.

“Two large chai lattes please!” Alex chimed to the barista.

“Seven thirty-four please.” She responded in a monotone manner, “Thank you, name?”

“Alex, and could you put a smiley face under it?” Alex responded hopefully.

“Sure, hon.” She said, a slight smile beginning to creep onto her face.

“Thank you!” Alex beamed. They made their way towards the table that Tasha was sitting at, suddenly remembering that it was supposed to be her turn to pay for the drinks. “Weren’t you supposed to pay this time?” they commented after sitting down. Tasha was staring off absentmindedly, vaguely tracing mathematical equations on the table with her finger. “Hey Spacey! Whatcha thinking about?”

Snapping back to reality, she slyly commented “The probability that they’ll mess up on our lattes yet again. I mean how hard is it to make regular chai lattes?”

“Hey relax! I sweet talked the barista, we should be good for today!” Alex’s definition of “sweet talking” was rather loose, but it always seemed to work out for them.

“Well thank you, you massive flirt.” Tasha chuckled as she eyed him lazily, “You know, you’ve been single since the end of freshman year. Aren’t you lonely?”

“I mean yeah, I’m always yet never lonely. You know how my head works better than anyone else. And besides, why would I need another best friend when I have you?” Alex responded, half heartedly flirting. The two had actually been close to dating once, but had decided against it and to remain best friends. At the point they were at in their friendship, it would either fail miserably or go perfectly, and neither of them were willing to risk everything that they had been through.

“Yeah, but we both know that you..”

“Alex!” Cried the barista, “With two smiley faces!”

“I’ll go grab those for us.” Tasha said as she stood. As she walked away, Alex had a familiar sensation of being watched. Scanning the room, they didn’t notice anyone looking at them besides Tasha as she was walking back.

Then they glanced at the barista. Those same piercing yellow eyes, seeming to attack their very soul. Her eyes suddenly went back to a dull brown color and she shook her head clear, seemingly losing a couple inches of height before going to the next customer in line. “Did you see her eyes?” Alex stammered out while they slightly shook in panic.

Tasha sat down and eyed them curiously, “What? That lady’s? No? Why do you look so scared suddenly?” She peered at him strangely, like an owner looking at a scared puppy.

“I swear, she had bright yellow eyes for a few seconds! Then they were suddenly normal again? You really didn’t see them when you walked up to her?” Alex’s mind was racing at this point, could they be finally breaking apart? They had been warned stability would only last so long, but it has only been a couple years, it was too soon.

“Hey, Alex. Look at me.” Tasha said, grabbing their hand gently, “Is it getting bad again? Do we need to go?” 

“I don’t know, this isn’t how it was last time, not anything like this.” Alex’s voice was getting shaky, they were slowly slipping into a panic attack and were trying their hardest to avoid it as long as they could.

“I know what we saw, that bitch had yellow eyes. You can’t be getting bad again, I saw that.”

Alex shuddered slightly, “Well thank you Jason.” they said, not being sure whether to calm down since they weren’t crazy yet, or panic because a human just had bright yellow, almost snake like eyes.

“What’d he say?” Tasha questioned.

“He saw the eyes too I guess that means either we’re both going crazy, or she actually had yellow eyes.” Alex breathed out heavily, “It could be sleep loss, but that doesn’t usually affect everyone until after days of not sleeping. I’ve only been awake for maybe thirty hours at this point?”

“Okay, home or therapist?”

“Home. Joz is out of town this week for a seminar.” Alex breathed out shakily, still trying to sip coffee that was clearly too hot.

“Then come on, Joz will wait until she's back. And give me your keys, you’re in no state to drive.”

“I’ve driven while worse, but if you insist.” They would have refused to admit it, but they were truly terrified and most likely couldn’t even walk straight, let alone drive home.

After five minutes that seemed to last for an eternity, the two got back to the apartment complex and started heading towards the front door. Tasha glanced over and noticed Alex was watching a specific window very intently, “Why are you watching Ms. Higgans window? Expecting a ghost to come out?” she asked jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood. The only response that Alex provided was a vague murmur about yellow eyes. Tasha had seen Alex during bad breakdowns before, ranging from a light panic attack over tests to a complete meltdown where they had almost jumped out of a window. However, this was a new reaction, Alex was fully conscious but was unable to process much of anything really, almost like a breakdown, but without tears or hyperventilating or yelling or really any bad behaviour. As they walked inside the front door, Alex suddenly stopped directly outside of Ms. Higgans door. “Alex? What’s going on?” As she turned around, she stepped back in fear. Alex’s generally steel gray eyes had turned a deep violet, glowing and pulsating slowly.

[mila-dans]

The Cross and the Grave

One shot: The Cross and the Grave

Takes place in alternate universe where Dean is an angel of the Lord and Castiel is a human hunter. Based on “Lazarus Rising.”

Word Count: 2000

(Thanks for the gif: @unicorncastiell​ )

Crawling out of a grave isn’t exactly what you think your first moments conscious would be, but for Jimmy Novak, this was exactly how it happened when he woke up this morning. Only four months ago did he have an encounter with hellhounds resulting in his soul being sent downstairs. A hunter making a demon deal doesn’t sound very plausible but when it comes to the Novak's, anything is possible. Especially when it involves saving their loved ones. 

Gabriel, Jimmy, and Anna Novak. They were closer than peas in a pod. It wasn’t always like that though. Before, Anna was studying to become a teacher while Gabe was studying the curves of every body that ended up in his clutches. Jimmy on the other hand, Jimmy continued what the three of them and their father started. The family business: saving lives and killing the bad guys. The three were raised like warriors, assassins. Their dad was not what you’d call a good one. It was always his way or the highway. Gabe grew up listening to his father and respecting him. It wasn’t until little Anna rebelled and left that he decided to reevaluate his life. With two children gone, the one and only father, Chuck Novak, decided to be more hands on with the affairs of his son. The only one that stayed. Jimmy and his father spent years, side by side, fighting demons and slaying monsters. Sure the team was smaller and Jimmy couldn’t quite understand why his brother and sister left, but this was his job. This was his life. He had to do it. No matter how many mistakes he made or how much pain was caused by him, he would never stop trying to fix it. Try to make it better. 

Long story short, no matter how long it had been since he saw his siblings or how bad on terms they were, when it came to looking for his father, he couldn’t do it alone. After recruiting his reluctant family, the Novak's were back in action. They lost some and won some. But last year, they lost a lot more than they could handle. They lost Anna. It took a toll on the brothers. A dead sister who had her whole life ahead of her. Gabriel could only take it with a couple cases of whisky and a handful of hookers. But Jimmy? Well, he couldn’t take it at all. Selling his soul for her life was stupid. Not as stupid as what he was about to do now, but it sure was stupid. He had a year to live. A year to watch the clock ticking on his life. Gabriel tried to give his brother the fun and crazy life that Jimmy had always missed out on while Anna did everything she could to fix it. Jimmy knew that he was going to hell and there was no stopping it. It didn’t matter what Anna dug up or what Gabriel threw at him as a distraction, he knew that his next stop would be his last. 

Jimmy spent his last year filled with blood and gut covered hands. Within the last hour of his life, he tried to ice the demon Lilith but instead lost his chance at the bitch and lost his soul to a whole different bitch. But after four months down in the fiery depths, he pulled a full Lazarus and now he stands with the demon blade in hand, alongside his brother, getting ready to summon whatever the hell it was that pulled him up in the first place. 

“You ready?” Jimmy asks.

“In order to be ready, I think we’d at least have to know what exactly to be ready for,” Gabe answers with his undoubtedly nervous tone.

The brothers were about to summon the being that brought up Jimmy from the pits. Thanks to an old “friend” of Gabriel’s, they got a name: Deontavious. And it only cost them a pair of eyes. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t just an average pay-grade demon. Hell, they don’t even know if it is anything close to a demon. It had the strength to bring someone back to life. That kind of fire power wasn’t something that they had seen before or ever even heard about.

Gabe finished spraying some sigils on the wall of the old barn. The barn was courtesy of yet another “friend” of his. If you weren’t a friend of Gabriel Novak, you were an enemy. And let’s just say, he didn’t have too many of those. At least not any that were alive more than a week. If you ever think that Jimmy or Anna are the bad ones, just wait till you get on the bad side of eldest Novak. And boy was he creative.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gabriel asks. He knows he doesn’t want to but he also knows how stubborn his brother is. Jimmy looks at Gabe as if they hadn’t just spent the last two hours prepping for their meeting.

“Yes!” Jimmy answers. He rolls his eyes and goes to place his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Yes, alright?” Gabriel looks at him with uncertainty. “Listen, Gabe, we know that crap is happening all over in the supernatural world and the least we can do is figure out what type of crap we are in first. Okay?” Jimmy looks at him waiting for a response.

“It sounds like a load of crap to me,” Gabriel responds with a smirk. Jimmy sighs in annoyance. They continue to wait for about a half hour under the flickering light bulbs and in the sound of sarcastic comments from the eldest brother.

“Did you do it right?” Gabe asks.

“Wha--You did the ritual! I should be asking you if it was done right!”

“Oh, yeah,” Gabriel lets out. He nods a little and becomes caught up in his own train of thought. Jimmy gives his brother a questioning look.

“So? Did you do it right?!”

“Yeah!” Gabriel responds with a defensive tone. “I’m like, eighty-seven percent sure that I did it right.” Jimmy gives Gabe a glare.

“Eighty-seven percent? Eighty-sev--Gabe!” Gabriel throws his hands up in defense as Jimmy takes a step closer. “How are you not sure if this was right or not?!”

As if on cue, a thunder cloud rolls over the barn. The brothers look up to the sky and see the dark fog setting over them. Lighting starts to strike as the doors start to slam.

“Just the wind?” Gabriel asks with a tremble in his voice and a shy smile on his face. Jimmy gives his brother another glare. The attention shifts back to the shaking barn doors as the clattering gets louder and louder.

With a sudden bash, the doors fall to the floor. The boys grab their guns and start to shoot at the silhouette of a man. The man doesn’t flinch, but instead, he walks closer and closer to the brothers as every light bulb shatters above him. 

The man is in a blue suit with a shirt in only a lighter shade and a tie to match. His eyes are a shade of jade and his light brown hair is in a short cut. The man has a sharp jaw and a bit of freckles across the bridge of his nose and to his cheeks. 

As the brothers run out of ammo, they stare in amazement of the bulletproof entity before them.

“Who are you?” Jimmy asks as he takes a step back to question whether to run for his life or die in a blaze of glory.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” the man answers in a deep voice.

“Yeah,” Jimmy chuckles, “Thanks.” When the man gets within arms reach of Jimmy, the middle Novak takes his chance, stabbing the creature with the demon blade straight in his heart. The man looks as Jimmy confused while the brothers stare in fear of the being as he pulls the knife from his chest, causing it to clatter on the floor. The man then walks toward Gabriel and places two fingers to his head, causing him to fall to the ground.

“We need to talk, James,” the man insists.

Jimmy rushes to his brother to check his pulse. The man walks over to the weapons table and starts to stab himself with the weaponry as to see if it will penetrate his skin or even cause a scratch.

“You’re brother, Gabriel, is fine.” Jimmy glares at the man and stands up. “I only made him unconscious,” he gives a cheap smile. 

“Why?!” Jimmy demands as his face becomes stricken with rage. “Who are you?!”

“I am Deontavious,” he answers.

“So I’ve heard. But what the hell are you?!”

“I am an angel of the Lord, James.” Deontavious looks at Jimmy and smiles proudly.

“Angel, my ass,” Jimmy chuckles. “What are you really?”

“I told you,” he replies, taking a step closer to Jimmy to lean in and look at his eyes. Jimmy stands frozen. “Yet, you don’t believe me. You have no faith.”

“Oh, I have faith, alright. I have faith that angels are as real as unicorns. That’s my faith.” Deontavious smirks at Jimmy and takes several steps back. Out of his sleeve, he holds a silver blade. The lights flash in the room, then go out all together. A blue light emits from Deontavious’s eyes and a shadow of wings extend on the wall behind him. The thunder crashes as lightning strikes. 

The lights turn back on and the storm stops.

“So an angel burned out an innocent woman’s eyes?” Jimmy questions as Deontavious returns to a relaxed state. 

“I warned her not to look in on my true form. The sight, the sound, it is overwhelming to humans. You know that though.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me that what happened back at the gas n’ sip and--and the motel was you just being you?”

“If it makes it easier to see it that way, then yes.”

“Then what is this?” Jimmy points at Deontavious. “How am I able to see you now?”

“It is because this is not me. This is a vessel.” Deontavious runs his hands through his hair.

“Possession? You’re possessing someone?!”

“Yes. But it is not like you think. This man, Dean,” Deontavious examines his body, “He was suffering. Struggling to make ends meet, as you would say. I only asked him if I could use his life, his body, for the greater good. He was the one who accepted.”

“Well, Dean is better than Deontavious. I’ll give you that much. But tell me, what are you, really?”

“I already told you, James,” Dean replies with a confused look.

“An angel. Right. But see, why in the world would an angel rescue me from hell?” Jimmy asks.

“Haven’t you heard of good things happening?” 

“Sure, to good, all American people, which is a group that I don’t belong to.” Jimmy crosses his arms as Dean walks closer to him. He stares in his face once more, looking down into his eyes.

“What is it? Do you not think that you deserve to be saved?” He asks. Jimmy tightens his jaw and takes a deep breath.

“Why?” Jimmy asks with a deep tone.

“Because, James, God commanded it. We have work for you.”

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Thanks for reading!

[a-day-in-the-life-of-a-brotha]

5-24-21 Back at it, stronger, better, faster...older

5:52 a.m. I’m at the plantation, sitting in my car, 3 mins until I walk in. There are a myriad of thoughts dancing in my head, I’m still not well rested (a black cat...well the resident black cat walks by without seeing me). It’s a gray, drab Monday, but I’m in good spirits...my Dani is well, but she has a lot on her mind. She’s my biggest supporter and I’m appreciative. My children are fine, they are my biggest supporters, I dropped them off yesterday to their moms...I miss them already, especially since I really didn’t see them this weekend because of me new position. Pause...I have to go into work...

5-26-21 Unpause, thrust into debauchery again

Well,?I walk into work that Monday...I work...that’s pretty much it. It’s another day, I post a review, I talk with O and stay away from others for the day. The 17 year cicadas are out in full force. Everything is eating them, dogs, birds, humans...they must be delicious, but I will never find out. As I am sitting here I’m hearing a noise beyond the cars riding by, beyond the birds chirping, beyond the crickets and even the annual cicadas. I realize that the noise is the 17 year joints. It sounds like a cry from the heavens...a wailing...shot if I waited 17 years for a mate I guess I’d sound like that too. It’s eerie. I went to go pick up Dani yesterday, she was having a moment on Monday, crying about her next steps in life. I felt her pain, and I didn’t want her to be there. I’m the other half of her, and I’m responsible for helping her with her ailments. I asked those that are not seen to help me help her. Let me take her mind racing ailment, let me take her pain away. It worked, they answered, and on 5-24-21...I woke up with my mind racing. I knew that I took on her angst, I handled it accordingly and kept busy...ahhhh that’s what was significant on Monday. I was dead tired and I worked worked that day. Controlling my mind to not go too far over the edge. I even came home that day and started cleaning, cooking, washing, resetting my phone, cropping pictures, hooked up my studio, pulled out the dip kit, packed a go bag...just everything. Sleep was easy to delve into that night. “Goodnight Dani” is all I remember saying. It feels good to have money in my pocket on a Monday...and there is a reason why my pocket is heavy. So last Thursday I’m home, my off day, I’m chillin out on the balcony talking with...who else...my Dani. “I need to find a way to get some more money” I said. Now that statement comes not to long after a conversation we had about our ancestors, and how to put them to work for you, how they are always around and how they are READY to work for you. I contemplated more money for a hot second...then I let it go. No more than an hour later I get a call while on a call...the phone reads “Black”. “Let me see what he wants...hold on babe” I say. “Black man with the permanent tan...what up” I say to him, my normal greeting, even though we haven’t talked in a while. He says “Aye...I have a gig for you”, “Uhhhh ok what is it”? Then in the background I hear a all to familiar voice say “Heyyyyy Farman!” Ha!! It’s my long time friend Reds, Frenchie, Arlen...man these guys go back 30 plus years with me...I’m overwhelmed because it’s good to hear from them, and a plethora of memories rush through my head...those young good times. Nonetheless Black tells me about this bouncing gig. I deny it...it’s going to interfere with my regular job....but damn the money sounds good. He wanted me to stop what I was doing and go on an interview...I said “Nah...I’m cooking dinner, fuck it, I’m not going to be able to do it.” “Ok, I’ll vouch for you dog, just show up.” Damn...I thought to myself “Ok, Ok, I’ll do it!” Now I’ve retired from bouncing some years ago...now here I am again, finding myself thrust back into the belly of the beast in Adams Morgan. I’m a veteran of this strip. I know what goes on. Sex, drugs, and people that have yet to find themselves with severe mental disabilities and money. It’s a rough place for an enlightened human being, for someone that knows themselves, and has chosen to not be in the midst of that kind of debauchery any longer. When I was there those years back...it was me that didn’t know who I was, it was me that was susceptible to the night life, lifestyle. I got involved...selling this, drinking that, this woman, that woman, money money, cheating, lying, abusing (me), loneliness, depression, not trusting anyone and myself, not stopping people from going over the edge...essentially I died there, now I’m back and I’m reborn. I met many good people there in the past...hell if I wasn’t there, I would’ve never met my children’s mother. So not everything was bad...I learned a lot and I grew a lot.

5-26-21 Continued

So now I’m 45 I got this offer to bounce again, and I took it. I’m at a different place in life from 10 years ago. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke (weed anymore), I’ve done some egoism work, shadow work, and tempered my life to a better place. $25 an hour, perks like a STOOL to sit on all night (unfounded in the bouncing arena), $25 worth of food each night (an Asian american mix), $20 a night for parking...and I’m sitting outside checking ID’s all night...I’m doing nothing...getting paid. The place is called Death Punch...and it’s full of the residuals of the old Adams Morgan. Everyone in this spot is on coke, and I know it. I’m cool with it... The hours are from 10-3 a.m. and I work at 6 a.m....it a rough schedule but I can do it...shit it was hard...I had to leave that spot the first night and go to my main gig and sleep in the car until 5:50 and go to work. Whew...it was rough but I did it. Black told me to wear a black polo, and not to wear my crown...my signature red, black and green Kufi...that’s a part of my protection. I know I’m suppose to be weary a white Kufi...I know. So I obliged Black on the first night and man was I susceptible to all of the energies that shook my hand (millionaires by the way). Confusing energies, coming up to me talking about their wild ways and ill thoughts. I had to consciously swerve them these no good energies and some good. Long story longer...that first day a woman walking with her man caught my eyes. She was of hispanic decent and this instance happened in milliseconds. While walking, she pulled her mask down, smiling, and said to me “It feels funny being sober out here amongst everyone drunk!” I knew right at that moment that this was an angel, an ancestor...it wasn’t that woman. That comment stopped me in my tracks. Struck me in my soul. It had my mouth open. I yelled to her as she and her man were yards away “How’d you know I am sober?” She yelled back “Because I am”!! That moment moved me to the point of confirmation of me being in Adams Morgan in the state I am today. Shit I was even called a Bitch while simultaneously being called a King by a sista that had to be kicked out of the bar. In her moment of diluted, inebriated (coke) anger...she hurled what the average man would take as an insult (only a bitch nigga responds to being called a bitch), and right after she came back to herself from the sunken place and gave me the right title of King. That Saturday I wore my Kufi...I was fine...it was a swift night, and nobody cared that I had it on...I was protected. I saged and Florida watered the shit out of me before going in that night. Here’s to new endeavors, and being paid.

[hallaevak]

skam thoughts

hi ok i’m bored n sick so i’m here to give my (maybe unpopular? idk) thoughts on skam + remakes. i have seen most* remakes, but i’ll mention if i have not seen a particular season or not

first off: basic opinions (favorite remakes, favorite characters, etc)

fav jonas/eva remake:

- skam nl (kes/isa) - isa is, in my opinion, the most relatable eva remake. she’s so sassy and lovable! in general i’m not the biggest fan of the season 1 plot, but i think all jonas/eva pairings, chemistry wise, have been phenomenal. isa/kes are just a little bit more impressive in my opinion.

fav noorhelm remake

- this will be of no shock, as this is quite a popular opinion, but wtfock (senne and zoë). most william remakes kind of suck, and the general character dynamic between noora and william is not something i like. i enjoy the plot but a lot of williams are just...ew. i’m interesting in skam españa interpretation (nora and alejandro) but i can’t fully judge their season until it’s over. zoë is such a wonderful character and senne is actually not a dick! i sobbed when they broke up in s3.

fav evak remake

- i’m tied. either skam france/wtfock. i love the (for some reason controversial) dynamic between sander and robbe. i also love elu, like the basic bitch i am. elliott demaury OWNS me.

fav youssana remake

- honestly, i kind of didn’t like any of them (that are released). there’s only two out there, druck and skam france, and i didn’t like any. i’m sorrryyyy i just love sana bakkoush and no one could ever be better than her. oof! disclaimer i have not watched all of amira’s season/druck s4. i wasn’t personally interested but the acting was phenomenal.

alright now to remake-specific comments.

SKAM, the original, the og, love of my life, scandi legend that started this obsession

- honestly one of the best teen shows i’ve ever seen. the development of characters is so prominent. the acting, for mostly amateur teenagers, is mind blowing. maybe american shows just suck? but i’m absolutely in love with every character. they show such realistic stories and i applaud the skam team + actors for portraying their stories so well.

- the one comment i have is the noorhelm relationship. i just? i don’t like it. when i first watched skam i loved it. noora was hilarious (still think that) and the perfect independent woman model. i also liked william. i just wished they showed more of his vulnerability because his kind of static character is not doing it for me. he doesn’t show any evolution or change. idk, he’s still a wet fish in my eyes. obv this has no shade to the actors, thomas hayes is lovely. his character? not so much. i could write a whole essay on how flawed and dislikable william is.

now, the first remake: skam france

skam france, oui oui baguettes this remake really tickles my fancy

- as someone who kind of understands french, i really do like this remake. i have some issues with s1 and s2 but overall it is a solid remake. being the first, it makes sense for the seasons to seems little unoriginal. i still love emma and manon but their characters aren’t very authentic.

- s3 is where they really nailed it. elu’s immense popularity is only a testament to how truly wonderful the season is. the acting, the characters, slight changes in plot. i loved it. a lot.

- i wasnt impressed by s4 but it might just be my extreme love for iman meskini. no one could ever replace her.

- BUT S5. OH BOY. ROBIN. MY BABY. he is such a good actor and i love arthur he MUST be protected! i love that his shame is not romantically related. also as someone who is interested in deaf culture wow! i’m impressed by the research done by skam france. not only is his the first original season but it is excellently executed. noee is my mother i love her.

druck, likely the most liked remake to which i do not disagree with that statement

- druck is legendary. i really appreciate the small changes in plot and character dynamics that create an identity for each remake and druck is so so good at doing that. mia’s season is lovely and so is matteo’s, as well as the other two. i did not finish amira’s season as wtfock s3 started and i was a little too invested in that haha but i liked what i saw. the mia/noora drama annoyed me but it was okay. i saw it in the way how we all beg for evak/elu/nicotino/etc content in later seasons but then complain when noorhelm/jonas and eva content occur in later seasons, which is weird at best or just fetishization of gay couples at worst. take ur pick. i like it when previous plot lines kind of intertwine into the current ones as it shows that people’s shakes are not temporary and have immense effects on others (which is the point of skam, right?

skam italia, the controversial remake that said bye and then uno-reversed itself (thanks netflix)

- a lot of people don’t like skam italia. it’s understandable, as the actress for sana is not a woc or muslim. however, it is slightly understandable (but not defendable, i was way too disappointed when i found this out) given italy and it’s cultural background. it astonished me that they could even produce an isak remake due to their pretty strong religious beliefs. italy is very much roman catholic, and gay marriage isn’t even legal there (this is the only skam where gay marriage is not legalized). so i give them major props to facing potential backlash in producing s2/marti’s season. it makes sense for there to not be a muslim/woc actress because of the demographics in italy. ww1 and ww2 really spun a number on italy’s race, as many jews and romas as well as pretty much any non-italian ethnicity were kicked out. this creates barriers especially when it comes to hiring a woc actress. skam italia is already breaking barriers when it came to controversial topics (literally all of skam would be controversial in italy’s alt-right view, it seems). tl;dr: kudos for being able to produce a pro-gay show but shame for not being able to hire a woc actess.

- i loved marti’s season as was a fan of the other two seasons. they’re well produced and beautiful and more dramatic than the other skams imo! the soundtrack is absolutely gorgeous.

skam austin, the american cousin no one seems to like that really lives up to the american stereotype

- ok. when i first saw austin/the fact that they made an american remake, i hated it. disgusting. i hâte america as it is. it was cringey, the acting was bad (i’m sorry i’m sorry), and it got rid of the charm that skam had.

- when i watched it a second time around, i changed my mind. i think grace’s season redeemed it a lil bit. it’s living proof that skam remakes must be watched twice or more to fully formulate an opinion. it’s still cringey but i mean, it’s very accurate to american culture. i’m ashamed to say that i, an american, have said many phrases that austin has used.

- skam austin isn’t THAT bad as people make it out to be. i think americans esp are uncomfortable with a skam from their own culture, myself included. and it’s fine to not vibe with it and prefer other skam remakes. i think the actors are okay, better when i saw it the second time, and the editing/music/videography is beautiful (ofc julie andem is a part of it). people give it crap for being american.

skam nl, may she rest in peace or pull an italia and 180 us

- man i was so depressed when i heard that lucas vdh was not getting his season. lucas is downright one of my favorite isak remakes and his story would’ve been so interesting.

- besides that, skam italia has one of the best eva seasons. it is my favorite and is usually a lot of others favorites as well. isa is just so relatable. liv’s season is also incredibly well produced. i didn’t hate noah! it was a miracle come true. he redeemed the william character if only for one remake.

- my one comment/critic isn’t even that serious. it’s just? dutch? it sounds so...weird. i’m a stupid american but i cracked up at things that were definitely NOT jokes because of the language. i’m sorry netherlands/holland i do not mean to laugh.

skam españa, also controversial for good reasons but also conflictingly good

- alright folks. i am confused with skam españa. i don’t know if i love it or like it.

- hear me out. we all know of the controversy with the panphobic comment that nora made. it was stupid and uncalled for and really disrespected the whole pan community of viewers. now, not many people are pan but for a show where an original character (even bech næsheim, love of my life) is canonically pan? it was kind of a slap to the face.

- besides the comment i loved cris’ season. it was refreshing to get an isak season where it was a she, one, and where isak was not living with his eskild but instead had a family. it was also beautifully shot and i love irene with my entire heart.

- that said, i liked eva’s season. nora’s season is interesting. maybe it’s because it’s the first i’ve watched multiple seasons live (españa and france) and have no attention span and is more interested in skam france s5? idk. the clips aren’t really doing it for me. i love the viri clips but the nora clips are eh. she just seems very...in genuine? idk. i also hate miquel get his ugly ass out of here. i can’t fully analyze the season until it’s over but i’m not really interested in it. i also don’t like the noorhelm plot or dynamic at all so that may be it.

wtfock, or another controversial remake that imo shouldn’t be controversial

- wow. i love wtfock. s1 was rocky and i wasn’t sure of how it would be. s2 SLAPPED ME THRU THE ROOF. god i love senne de smet so much. zoë is actually redeemable??? and oh my god milan is my favorite eskild like please adopt me.

- season 3 was the first one i watched live. i arrived to the skam scene late so i didn’t get to experience march madness aka 5 live skams at once and i wish i did. but wow. willem ds and willem h really are one of the main reasons why wtfock s3 did so well. they’re amazing actors with incredibly chemistry.

- the controversy that imo should be controversy: the gay bashing scene. i was surprised at the backlash. people were upset over the fact that they showed such...intense events without immediate remediation. it’s understandable to be mad but? they were criticizing things that had no correlation with the scene, like the willems’ acting or the music picked. it was very wild. they also did a lot of bitching about how lgbt people should see gay bashing because it’ll bring back bad memories and that skam was for the gays only and should cater for only lgbt people. which i heavily disagree with. 1) gay bashing in media is so prevalent and downright important. things can’t be fluffy gay all the time. this happens in real life and does such a great complement to noor’s comment about how no one cares that robbe is gay because it’s 2019. THAT. IS. SO. IMPORTANT. it’s so so important to realize that despite the strides made for lgbt people, gay bashing and violent homophobia. still. exist. also. i would like to direct you to these examples of gay bashing where no one blinked an eye : queer as folk, where s1 justin gets bashed in at his prom and has difficulties drawing; s2 (i think? may be s1) skam españa where lucas rubio gets bashed; skam s4 where even and isak encounter a homophobic dick; these examples are endless. the one thing that miffed me the most was that many critics acted as if they were forced to watch wtfock and therefore criticize its every move. like no? you have a choice? no one is forcing you. quite the opposite! wtfock is geoblocked! you’re actually forcing yourself because you’re taking the time to find illicit resources in order to watch it! alright man i’m done with this rant. many also criticized the writing of the show. it was shaky but watching it a 2nd time, where all clips were released, was so much better when it came to clarity. many ‘poor writing choices’ made sense in the larger picture. again another example that you should watch skam remakes twice to understand the big picture.

- tl;dr wtfock is lovely and should not be criticized for one wrong move.

thank u for hearing me out. i have strong opinions but a frail heart. pls be nice!

[hyucksong]

princess.| lee donghyuck

summary: you get what you want, when you want. you follow your own rules, no one else’s. are you a prissy rich bitch? maybe. does lee donghyuck, the resident bad boy with a spirit for trouble, make you want to ruin your high class reputation for his lips? maybe. 

warnings: cussing and a spoiled kid who yes is spoiled but has also done some stuff herself 

word count: 3.8k

   You rested on your back, your Chanel shades blocking your eyes from the harsh sun, and the copious amount of sunblock SPF 100 slathered on you protecting your fragile skin from early skin cancer. Your whole body felt warm in your Balmain limited edition swim suit keeping your decency. You got it at an event, where you received it as a special gift, since your mother was a world famous super model, and your father a critically acclaimed actor.

   Some said the fame got to your head, but you were always too busy adjusting your Gucci sun hat to really care. Besides, you already knew that. You were indeed, filthy rich. Unimaginably so. But as a successful academic and model, you though you should deserve some credit. You couldn’t pay to have brains like yours, and you couldn’t pay for the natural talent you had for the camera. You had your own title, separate from your mom and dad, and you knew your worth.

   Your daddy didn’t pay your way into Stanford -- your brain did. The traits that came with success were ones you welcomed with open arms; assertiveness, intelligence, charisma, etc. Were you prissy? Yes. Were you a bitch? Hell yes. And you loved it. The thorny wall of harsh words and judging stares served as protection from people who were friends for fame. This way, only good people made their way into your friend group. You enjoyed your little clique, they came from all walks of life. 

   “Mmm, the sun is getting a little hot, don’t you think so, Swary?” You asked, opening your eyes to look at your Pomeranian, who was nestled in the shade drinking some water under the umbrella. At the call of her name, she barked, before going back to her beauty sleep. You smiled to yourself, before setting your sunglasses back in place and going back into your resting position.

   That was, until an annoying shadow blacked the warm rays, and dropped the temperature by a few degrees. You sighed, not even opening your eyes. 

   “Please leave, I’m on vacation, no autographs.” A deep chuckle resonated from the person, causing you to peep one eye open at them. Before your eyes was a cute boy, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt that was tucked into black distressed jeans, with what looked like checkerboard vans. You rolled your eyes, closing your eye again. “Cute. Now leave.” But the warmth didn’t return, instead you still felt the judging eyes of the boy.

   “Swary? What type of name is that?” You sat up, annoyed, ripping off your Chanel sunglasses with a noise of irritation. “It’s short for something else.”

   He rose a brow teasingly. “For what?” 

   “Swarovski.” You ignored the laugh that followed after the fact, knowing that he’d laugh before you even said it. “Wow, you’re such a prissy bitch, huh.” An annoyed huff left your lips before you sat back in your seat.

   ��Leave me alone, Donghyuck. Why are you here anyways? Don’t you bother my enough at school?” You looked over at him mockingly, watching as he scooted a beach chair from another umbrella. “Can’t stop following me? Are you a stalker or something?” He laughed, his laugh stirring your heart.

   “I’ve got better things to do than to stalk you, Princess.” You turned away, your ears blushing red. “Don’t call me that.” He ignored your pleas and looked around the beach, his eyes content. 

   “Man, Malibu really is beautiful.” You hummed in agreement, starting to relax a bit in his presence. You knew Donghyuck from Stanford. He majored in Classics and minored in Comparative Literature, while you majored in History and minored in Feminist, Gender, and Sexuality studies. You two didn’t really see each other often outside from the library, until you discovered your close friend Renjun in the Archaeology major was best friends with him. From then on, you two saw each other almost every other day, and he never failed to tease you.  

   “It would be more beautiful if you left.” You added, keeping your nose and dignity high. He turned onto his side, looking straight at you. “But then you’d have nothing to stare at, Princess.” You turned your head away from him and scoffed. “I wasn’t staring at you, Lee Donghyuck.” 

   “You’re right, you were drooling over me.” He chimed, laughing at your irritated expression. “Was not. Now can you get you and your atrocious outfit away from me? To a different state, preferably?” 

   “What? Not enough Vergucci or something? Not expensive enough for your tastes, hm?” 

   “You mean Versace, right? Are you really that dumb that you don’t know one of the biggest names in the fashion industry?” He rolled his eyes, getting up from his seat to sit on yours, you laying down and him sitting next to you with his arms resting on his knees. “Why should I care? I’m not into fashion, anyway.” 

   You shuffled in your seat to give him more space, “Maybe if you upped your fashion game instead of dressing like a typical American fuckboy, you’d actually get girls.”

   “You sure it’s not the skipping class and weed that keeps then from me?” He jokes, moving to lay down next to you. You laugh quietly. “That too.” 

   It’s silent for a few minutes, the feeling of his bare arms draped above your head and the heat he exuded filling your thoughts. Donghyuck was your typical bad boy with a golden heart. It annoyed you how he fit so perfectly into a stereotype, but then again, so did you. 

   You were always confused by him, too. You’d think he was interested in you one day, with his flirtatious comments and overly-touchy and lingering fingers, but the next day his arm would be draped over a different girl. He was a player, and you were smart enough to not get mixed in with him. Besides, you had a reputation to keep up. No rich bitch could date a run-of-the-mill bad boy. Even if you wanted to.

   But you knew all that was waiting for you was a broken heart and unstable relationship, so why bother? You were no different from other girls to him. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe he was just doing it to get your attention, but you weren’t about to be the typical girl who thought she ‘could fix him’. 

   You weren’t perfect, and neither did you have any of the patience it would take to keep Donghyuck behaved. However, a part of you didn’t care about keeping him behaved; a part of you just wanted his touch and his lips against yours, but the rest of you that didn’t want to get heartbroken knew better, and so you kept your wall up in front of him. 

   “Why are you here in Malibu, anyway?” You turn your head towards him, not expecting his face to already be looking at yours. You don’t flinch, though, your eyes still staring bravely against his. A smirk finds its way onto his heart shaped lips, something you thought was way too powerful for him to posses, and he keep his stare on you. “Parents picked this place for vacation as a gift for staying in school this year.” You shrugged, “That’s not really an accomplishment, you know.” He shrugged back at you, his gaze leaving yours to look out into the blue ocean before him.

   “Guess we both are stupid rich.” You don’t comment.

-

   The party your parents decided to throw at the beach house was smaller than usual. It consisted of an armful of ‘close’ famous friends, including the Lee family. When you walked in the front door in a silk summer dress with your dog by your side, the last thing you expected was to come face-to-face with a shirtless Donghyuck. 

   The smirk on his face told you that he expected you to be flustered, but you were around half-naked men all the time, so honestly, he didn’t faze you. He was good-looking, but his body just didn’t compare to the male supermodels of the world, but then again, you never were attracted to those bodies.

   The slight squish of his tummy made you feel warm, for some odd reason. You brushed it off and concluded it was just his alarmingly ugly black crocs. 

   “Wow, so bad boy. Love the crocs.” You say, brushing past him to go to your room. “I know, they’ve got skulls on them.” He adds, turning to follow after you up the stairs. You laugh and turn to look at him, curious. 

   “Are you going to follow me all the way up?”

   “Is that an invitation?” He quips. You scoff, “You wish.” 

   “Damn right. Wanna grant it tonight?” You find it best to ignore the comment and continue on your way to your room, letting him trail behind you like a lost puppy. 

   You close the door behind you softly, sighing as soon as the noise from all around the house goes quiet due to the sound-proof room. Hyuck sits on the bed, resting his weight on the back of his hands with a cute grin on his face. The childishness that he exudes almost makes you blush, but you fight back the feeling. Who knows how many girl have seen that smile.

   “So what’re we gonna do?” He pulls his knees up to his chin, kicking off his crocs and you flinch as his dirty feet touch your satin covers. “Well first off, we’re going to get your stank ass feet off my good Eastern Accent bedding.” He doesn’t listen, instead looking up at you with unwavering eyes. You give him a look before going around your room to put things back in their place, the cleaning lady having rearranged things from their normal place. After a few minutes of the silence, you decided to spare him another glance.

   His eyes were still watching you, but there was a haze over them, like he wasn’t really thinking. This time, it made you blush. You wondered what he could be thinking about to be so lost in thought, staring at you nonetheless. 

   “What’re you looking at me for?” You shift, your head going back to straightening your textbooks. This seems to knock him out of his daze, and his characteristic smirk comes back, much to your dismay. “I was just admiring the beautiful curves of your body, princess.”

   “Again with that name, Donghyuck.” 

   “What? I can’t call my princess what she is?” You begin to grow fed up by his empty words, you never understood how he threw them around so easily. The fact that he probably said those exact words to some other girl made your stomach twist in sadness. Th fact that he probably called other girls princess hurt you more than it really should.

   “Stop meaninglessly flirting with me, Lee Donghyuck.” You spat, glaring at him. His brows shot up, the playful look on his face disappearing from before. “W-What?” He stuttered out, sitting up straight, his feet no longer rubbing themselves on your expensive sheets.

   “I said;” you walked towards him, “Stop saying empty words.” His silence pushed you to keep talking. “I don’t know if you know this, Donghyuck. But I have feelings. Just because I’m rich and can buy out a whole Gucci store doesn’t mean I can’t fucking hurt. Your empty words hurt me more than anything. ‘You’re so beautiful, Princess,’ ‘Is that an invitation’, ‘I was just admiring you’ --I’m sick of hearing them if you’re just saying them to get some sick reaction out of me. If that’s all you want -- you’ve got it. Can you leave, now?” Your lungs rise up and down quickly, your heartbeat sounding throughout your skull, the vibrations reaching the ends of your toes as your bullet-like words hit the boy sitting across from your hurt gaze. Why did you have to get mad now? Why couldn’t you have gotten mad at him somewhere that would enable you to walk away? You can’t walk away in your own home. 

   He looks at you like an art connoisseur examining a new ice sculpture -- acting like the faintest gush of breath could shatter the delicacies of the piece. “Princess, I --”

   “I said stop calling me that.” The voice that left you sounded like a cry, like a hurt animal mewling out for help. Donghyuck felt his facade of confidence break a little as he reached out towards you, only to see you step back away from his touch. “Princess...” His wavering voice broke, the whole situation stressing it out. One moment you were playfully quipping back at him, the next you were standing in the corner, your eyes coated with a sheen layer of water. He wondered if that meant you were suffering for a long time, to be able to snap like that.

   “Please, what’s wrong, Princess?” He stood up, his bare feet padding gently on the wooden floor. 

   “Stop! You don’t understand, do you?” You accused, tilting your head at him in disbelief. “You don’t understand what it’s like to have someone give you such heartwarming words and then show up the next hour with a girl on his arm, whispering into their ear as if they were the love of his life, do you?” 

   Donghyuck stared into your eyes. The realization hitting him that it was him who was making you act this way. It was him who was making you insecure and confused. His loving words and unloving actions. His flirty eyes and disloyal hands. 

   But before his first words could leave his mouth, a firm knock on that door caught your attention. You mustered your strongest voice before calling out, “Yes?” 

   “Do you want the Champagne, M’am?” The clear voice of the housekeeper caused you to cuss under your breath as you hit your shoulder against Donghyuck’s, making your way to the door swiftly. You swung it open and snatched the bottle from her hands, not before her eyes noticed your disheveled and teary-eyed figure. 

   “M’am, are you oka --”

   “Oh, fuck off.” You sneered, hating the vulnerable state she caught you in. In a burst of self-protection, you slammed the door in her face. You wasted no time twisting off the safety seal on the cap and flicking the cap off, placing the bottle between your lips and chugging down the burning liquid. 

   “P-princess --” You held your finger out to stop him, not quite done with the bottle. “Y/n!” He yelled, snatching the bottle from your hands before you could go through the whole thing. The bottle parted from your lips with a loud ‘pop’, making you choke a little at the sudden action. You wiped your mouth and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t take this away from me, too.”

   He set the bottle down and grabbed you by the shoulders, hoping to talk to you before the alcohol caught your consciousness. “What did I take away from you?” His voice was desperate, his eyes searching yours for the truth. 

   “My heart.” Was all you said before pushing him out of the way to the bottle again, this time not letting it go until you were done with the whole thing. His hands didn’t even try to stop you as your legs tripped over one another, his mind too preoccupied with your previous words to watch your drunk figure stumble towards your bed.

   As you began to whine and whimper in your pillow, Donghyuck thought it was his cue to leave the room. He needed to think things through. The second you heard the door shut, the knob clicking, your whining stopped. Instead, the reality that you were in fact just another fun toy to play with sunk into you, causing salty tears to cascade down your face into the pricey fluff of your pillow. 

   Donghyuck’s lack of response to your emotion-driven words meant that he just didn’t feet the same way, to you at least. So that night, you called up the housekeeper again with a wish for another bottle of champagne. Maybe it would take your mind off of things. But no amount of drunk giggling with your friends over skype could heal the aching wound of your torn heart. 

   For a moment, you wished that hearts were something you could buy -- you’d make sure to buy the most expensive one. Maybe it would come with a lifetime warranty. 

-

   The chirping of the song birds in the morning made you groan, their annoying tunes making you want to rip your ears off rather than sing along. Maybe it was your slight hangover or maybe it was your intense heartbreak the previous night that made you so grumpy. 

   Sitting up, you looked in the mirror on the vanity across from your bed, and you almost laughed. The tangled rats nest that was supposed to be hair, the purple eye bags, the swollen face from crying -- it all seemed funny to you; that you were like this because of some playboy.

   Instead of dwelling on it, you shrugged off the thought, hoping that not paying attention to it would save you some heartache. 

   But when you opened the door to your bathroom across the hall and there was the man himself standing in front of you, you knew it was inevitable. His light chestnut hair was sticking up in the back, you could see from the mirror, and his eyes were heavy. His face look moisturized and his breath smelled minty, so you could tell he had just woken up too.

   Your eyes shifted downwards and you moved past him, ignoring his sound of surprise, pushing him out the door and closing it in his face before he could protest aloud. Of course he just had to be up and using your bathroom.

   “Y/n.” The muffled voice traveled through the door, the next action a soft but repeating knock. This happened several times, but you simply continued to do your skincare routine and wash up. “Y/n, seriously -- let me talk to you.” He grumbled.

   Swinging open the door, you curtly nodded at him and attempted to slide away from his attention, but his hand caught your bicep smoothly, dragging you into you room despite your complaints and the judging looks of the housekeeper down the hall.

   The door closing behind you caused you to start to sweat, not liking Donghyuck’s confrontational personality. He made to move to talk, instead only crossing his arms in front of the door and giving you a pointed look that made you shift from foot to foot. 

   “So?”

   “So what?” 

   He rubbed his face in frustration, before taking a deep breath and connecting gazes again. “So do you remember what you said last night?”  Silence overcame the room as you contemplated lying.

   “N-No?” You cringed, giving him a hopeful look. “Yeah, bullshit.” He laughed. “I know you remember confessing your love to me.”

   “I did not confess my love for you.” 

   “Yes you did! You said I took your heart!” You shook your head, “Why did you leave if you thought I confessed to you? You left the room without saying anything --”

   “I wanted you to say those words to me when you weren’t drinking a whole bottle of champagne.” He loomed over you, bending down a little to be closer to you. “Admit it, princess, you love me.”

   You ran a hand through your hair, flinching backwards at his close face. “And? Yeah, I like you. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

   “What?”

   “It doesn’t mean I’m going to date you, Donghyuck.” His expression saddened, crossing his arms. “And why not?” 

   “Because I know you. You flirt with anything that has two legs -- you just see me as an easy target.” His eyes widened in shock, an exasperated look breaching his face. “Did those Chanel sunglasses leave you visually impaired? Do you not see me standing in front of you, asking you to be my princess?”

   “Hyuck --”

   He cut you off, continuing, “I’m talking with you, not with some other girl on the beach. I’m calling you princess -- no one else.”

   “Hyuck, let me talk --”

   “I wanted to hear your answer sober so that I knew you felt the same way, so that I knew it wasn’t the two thousand dollar champagne speaking.”

   “Lee Donghyuck!” You yelled, laughing from irritation. “I can’t trust you, that’s why! One minute you’re giving me positive signals and the next your off with your eyes on another girl -- how can I trust your words? You are known for being a playboy.” 

   “Is that what you think of me?” His dark pupils were darting back and forth across your face, trying to read you like a book. You moved closer, the space between you two shrinking. “What am I supposed to think?”

   The room was quiet, the only sound the song birds outside your window coupled with the cawing of sea birds, helping the atmosphere seem less tense. “What if I promised I’d never do it again?” He whispered, his focus trained on your lips. His breath fanned over your mouth, and you fought the urge to kiss him.

   “How can I know you won’t betray me?” Your voice came out strained from fighting the urge to just let him take you in his arms.

   His hands lifted up to your face and he cupped your cheek to keep your gaze on him, while his other hand slid around your waist in a way that made you feel safe. “You have to trust me.” 

   That word scared you, trust. To put your faith in someone blindly, especially ins someone like Lee Donhyuck who was known for trouble and for giving out kisses to any pretty stranger with enticing eyes -- but you also wanted to trust him. You wanted to believe that he wouldn’t hurt you, you wanted to believe that his words were filled with promise and truth.The only way to truly find out if he was lying or not was to take the leap. 

   Maybe it was his breath on your face, maybe it was how the corner of his heart-shaped lips quirked up at your red cheeks and hesitation, maybe there was a trace of the alcohol from last night still flowing in your system; but you gave in. 

   His lips met yours with a smile etched on them, it felt so sincere and genuine that you pushed back with just as much passion. His hands felt like they belonged on your waist with his fingers digging into your sides, and your arms felt like they were at home resting on his broad shoulders. 

   When you pulled away, you looked into his eyes and noticed a mischievous bu happy glint in them, and you knew it would be a long road ahead of you, but as long as you were with Donghyuck, you had trust that you’d be just fine. 

   You wouldn’t refund his messy love for anything.

[sim-songs]

“hi, I’m not from the US” ask set

So I wanted to answer all of these, because why not you know? @dreamsongsims now you can learn more about Belgium ;)

It’s under the read more so I don’t clog up your dashboards.

1. favourite place in your country? Honestly my home. I am living in Antwerp right now with the bf and I honestly love it, even though we aren’t really going outside much right now bc of the virus. I do miss the green and the “not city” smell haha

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad? I am okay with both. My family always goes on vacations during holidays, the last few years we’ve gone to Thailand for example but I’m more interested in staying closer to home. I LOVE Norway and want to go on holiday there again but it’s expensive.

3. does your country have access to sea? Yes. 67 kilometers of ugly “badsteden” lol (literally means bathing towns). To be honest I like the coast in the Netherlands better because it isn’t as gray and superficial.

4. favourite dish specific for your country? A nice “frietje van de frituur” (french fries), specifically a “frietje speciaal”, that’s french fries with ketchup, mayo and thinly sliced onion.

5. favourite song in your native language? I hate Belgian music, absolutely despise every Dutch song on the radio. But if I have to pick one its Goud from Bazart, it’s an older song by now but it’s one of the few I did not mind listening to.

6. most hated song in your native language? As soon as I read this I immediately thought of Banaan from Jebroer. Just shudders ugh. But really all Dutch songs in this style.

7. three words from your native language that you like the most? I’m gonna paste my earlier answer here: Hmm that's a hard one for me... Gezellig is a word I've always liked bc it doesn't have a real translation, just like cozy or smt. Another one I like is grassprietjes, meaning blades of grass bc it sounds funny and kinda rolls of the tongue and non dutch people will never be able to properly say that! and a third is eenzaam, meaning lonely. I don't really know why I like that one tbh

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom? I don’t really remember ever being confused for another nationality. I have read that Dutch sounds like German on crack, and that Belgian Dutch is easier than Netherlands Dutch for foreigners.

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best? Visit most: France and Germany, I have been to them both already but never for long and a long time ago. Know best: Probably the Netherlands. We share a language after all so we share some cultural things! (Does Temptation Island count as a cultural thing lol?)

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language? Mmm tough one to answer, because me and my bf are big English speakers so most of our swearing is of the “fuck” variety. I like “godverdomme” (god dammit) and what my dad sometimes says “godverdomme miljaarde nondeju” (there is literally nothing I can do to translate this)

11. favourite native writer/poet? I can’t think of any poets, but I like the writer Valerie Eykmans, specifically the book “Verloren Maandag”

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem? So I really like “Het Weer” by Hugo Claus, I even have a poster in our living room with the poem in his handwriting.

Weather

How was the weather in the country without you? At first mist fell over the concrete mountains.

Then the sun hung like mist over the mother-of-pearl sand.

Then the sky moved and became clammy as your armpits.

A lightning closed my teeth.

And everywhere the smell rose of the big animals that don't exist

unless in the ringing of your ear, in the rustle of your hair.

That's how it was back there without you. You are the air pressure and the dew and the snow in my skull.

It does not rhyme much in Dutch, it’s more about the rhythm of the words, so as far as the translation goes it’s pretty accurate in it’s contents but the rhythm is definitely off in the translated version

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders? What immediately comes to mind is the whole “Sinterklaas” problem where every year the discourse starts again whether or not the “Zwarte Pieten” are racist. Honestly not gonna comment on that because it’s not my place to feel offended or otherwise about this issue. Another thing that’s a bit more lighthearted is the “jaarmarkt” in our hometown, it’s like a big market that always finds place on the first sunday of the year. There’s a “stoet” (procession) with the walking orchestra, horses, horses and carriages, dogs and a whole load of tractors all going to get blessed at the church where the pastor throws holy water on everyone passing by. I have a love hate relationship with this tradition because it’s always freezing, and the tractors take forever to end. Oh and the main street of our town is completely closed of and there’s a big market with stalls in the street and everyone gets drunk of of the “jenevers” from the Scouts stalls lol.

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV? Not really, the only thing I used to watch was “Helden van Hier: Brandweer” (Heroes from here: fire brigade), it was just following the fire brigade around to fires and what not.

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get? ah je moe kakken moe je kakken he 😉

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with? Hate: Belgians are small-minded people not interested in anything going on outside of their home. Just not true at all. Sure there are people like that but every country has those. Agree: Belgians are hard to get to know. I hear this one a lot and I can see why people say that.

17. are you interested in your country’s history? Copied from an earlier answer: I am interested in history in general, it was one of my favourite classes in high school. I do like learning about Belgian history, mainly because Belgian history is, in one term, a messy bitch

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language? Yes, I speak with a “Kempisch” accent, but in general I’m still pretty understandable.

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem? I really don’t care about our flag, the Flemish Lion is being overly politicized to exclude the Walons lately and our national anthem is meh, no one can sing it and it’s more of a joke to people my age I think.

20. which sport is The Sport in your country? Soccer (or football idk) and veldrijden (literally field riding, but cyclo-cross as the translation) GO Wout van Aert! (idc abt sports but he’s local to me so)

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be? I’m not sure if this means you want to get rid of it or if you want to memorialize it? Getting rid of “Manneken Pis” because he’s stupid and memorializing an entire classic “frietkot”

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed? Proud: Our cultural diversity and lately our banding together during the crisis Ashamed: All the racists (looking at you Vlaams Belang)

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country? BEER, ALL THE BEER

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country? Honestly our own nation is most joked about for good reasons. Flemish joke about the Walons and vice versa, and everyone jokes about the joke that is our government.

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country? I’m happy where I’m at now, so no.

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal? I have never seen any prominent representation of Belgian in a Hollywood movie.

27. favourite national celebrity? Probably Tom Waes

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites? We dont have much haha, we have rivers, most notably “De Shelde” which runs though Antwerp not too far from my apparment.

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country? Flemish and Walons have always had beef, so yeah.

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family? I had a phase where I was into genealogy and it’s safe to say I’m one of the most Belgian Belgians out there lol, especially on mothers side her family literally has been living in the same place since the 1600′s and my grandparents had never seen the ocean until my parents took them.

[rhysismydaddy]

Bad Boys of Persia: Part 3

Here’s Part 3!! Sorry for the wait. 

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4 || Masterlist

________________________________________________________________

Elain pushed the doors to the police department open, the words she’d listened to replaying in her head, stirring her on.

You might want to sit down.

She stormed across the lobby, holding a hand up to stop the man she’d spoken to earlier that day from continuing his approach towards her. He wasn’t who she was here to see. She wanted to see Eris.

His name is Eris, he’d told her. And he used to be her fiance.

Elain climbed up the stairs to search the second floor offices, looking for the nicest one.

It was an arranged marriage, because both of their families come from very old money. But Mor knew Eris, had known him her whole life. She knew he was abusive to all his girlfriends, and that he’d be abusive to her, too.

Her heart pounded, remembering the look on Mor’s face, as she skimmed past rows and rows of cubicles.

So she did the one thing that would make her unmarriable, to save herself. She slept with someone. He sighed. She still won’t tell me who, he’d muttered with a pointed look in her direction.  

Elain had been confused at first, until he explained. 

Women are meant to be “pure” when they get married. It’s considered a crime against the gods if they aren’t. And when Eris found out... 

She’d glanced at the large bandage covering her midsection. 

He left her in the middle of the desert around the city. Alone. She almost died. She still might. That nail, he bit the word out, might give her an infection. 

The worst part, he’d continued, is that I can’t do anything. He runs this city, and he knows it.

She narrowed her eyes on a mahogany door in the corner of the building that read Police Chief: Eris Vanserra. 

He might run this city, Elain had said, surprised to find her voice so steady, so angry. But he doesn’t run me. 

She shoved the heavy door open, looked into the golden eyes of the man she already despised, and growled, “I’m your two o’clock.”

She wasn’t, but Elain had an occasional flare for the dramatic.

He hardly looked up.

“You’re American,” he said with distaste. “What does an American need from the Persian police?”

“I’d like to file a complaint against a Persian citizen.”

His eyebrow raised. “There are men downstairs who can help you with that.”

She thought of Mor’s tear streaked face to get the courage to say, “None of them would take it. Because, you see, my complaint is against you.”

Eris sighed. “I’ve never met you. Nor have I done anything wrong. Go waste someone else’s time.”

Elain bristled. “I’d say assaulting and almost killing a woman who was to be your wife is pretty wrong.”

She’d prepared herself for all sorts of things when she decided to come here. She’d shared her location with Feyre in case she “disappeared.” She’d grabbed the pepper spray Nesta had given her in case he attacked her. 

But she hadn’t done anything to prepare for laughter. 

Eris threw his rust colored hair back and laughed at Elain’s words. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she spat as he grabbed his stomach.

He chuckled once more before saying, “You’re such a typical American. Coming to my city, then talking about something you have no idea about.”

“I’d say anyone knows about murder-”

“Shut up, woman. And don’t interrupt me again.” His voiced had changed from amused to violently angry in seconds. “Since you don’t understand, allow me to explain.

“Morrigan Smullien, the bitch I was supposed to marry, became mine to do whatever I wanted with when we got engaged. She answered to me. And when she went and fucked some random prick like the low-class whore she is, she became his to deal with. I was entitled to react however I saw fit.”

Elain forced herself not to use her pepper spray. “And you saw it fit,” she threw the word back at him, “to drag a six inch nail across her stomach, then leave her in the sands surrounding this city to die?”

Eris shrugged. “She knew what would happen to her when she ruined the prospect of our marriage. She knew I’d have to retaliate for her trying to ruin my good name.”

“Like I said,” Elain ground out, forcing her voice to be steady, “I’d like to file a complaint.”

He smiled. “The Persian Police Department of Suza rejects your complaint.”

Elain smiled back, finally allowing him to see her for what she was: a wolf circling its prey. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Do me a favor,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Smile real quick?”

His bushy eyebrows narrowed. “What are you doing?”

She snapped the picture, then opened Instagram. 

“Like you so astutely pointed out, Mr. Vanserra, I’m just an American woman who doesn’t understand your customs. So I thought I’d share Morrigan’s story with the world and see who wins more support: a woman who would do anything to stay away from you and your abuse, or a stuck-up man who thinks he’s entitled enough to get away with murder.”

He had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Telling your little friends makes no difference to me.”

Elain turned her phone to show him her profile. “Actually, I run a sort of travel blog, and I post pictures about where I’m going and the food I’m eating (it helps promote my restaurant back home). I have over sixteen million active followers. And I’d say a crowd of that size can always make a difference. Even to a man protecting himself with his family’s money.”

He was silent for a beat, then shook his head. “It’ll be your word against mine, bitch.”

“No,” she shook her head and brought up the recording app she’d had running since she walked into the building, letting the sound of their conversation surround them. “It’ll be your word against... your word.”

Eris paled. 

“You see, Mr. Vanserra. 16 million people demanding justice for a woman is sure to gather the attention of even more people. All these people suddenly hating you and the corruption in this city will definitely ‘ruin your good name.’ Your family might even cut you off,” she laughed. 

He shook his head again. “It won’t matter. You’ll never walk out of here with that,” he motioned to her phone.

Elain hit a button, then shrugged, yet again showing him the phone. 

Showing the new post, with a picture of Mor’s face and the caption: Share her story. Fight for justice. #MorriganSmullien 

“I’m afraid you’re too late. It’s already done. Oh look, it already has two thousand comments.”

Rage like she’d never seen crossed over his face and he shot from his desk, in front of her in seconds, fist pulled back. But this was what she’d prepared for. She brought her canister in front of his face and sprayed, loving his yelp entirely too much.

His kneed hit the floor and his palms pressed into his eyes. 

“Your mistake,” she whispered, bending over him, “was thinking that women are weak enough to harass into silence. Your mistake was underestimating what women will do for each other. Have a nice day.” 

She opened the door again, leaving Eris on his knees, smiling as the phone started to ring.

________________________________________________________________

Nesta shifted back on her bed, narrowing her eyes at the man still taking residence in the corner of her room. An auction. “Why do you think he’ll choose me?”

He grinned. “You’re American. We don’t get too many of those in the running. You’re also blonde with blue eyes, another rarity around here. And you’re not completely awful looking. Plus, I’m going to teach you what to do, what to say, how to act. You’re going to win. You have to.”

“And then what?”

He looked confused, and Nesta rolled her eyes.

“He chooses me at this auction--which you still haven’t told me about--and then what? I get taken by a man even worse then you?” she asked with a grin.

“Well, considering your little friends watching your location as we speak, I think you’re pretty safe. Just follow whatever your plan to bring me down was. I thought you’d appreciate the opportunity to get a bigger fish.”

She did, but she wouldn’t admit it so easily. 

“Tell me about the auction.”

He cringed. “It’s- uh- it’s less auction and more you have to sell yourself type of deal.”

Nesta debated throwing another pillow at him. “What?”

He sighed. “Basically, you and I will go to a party. The boss will be there, but no one knows who he is, because it’s a masked event. The idea is that you have to find him instead of him finding you. And once you do, you have to make him want you.”

Nesta was silent for a beat. “What happens to the girls he doesn’t choose?” she asked quietly. 

He gritted his teeth, a muscle flickering in his jaw. “You know what happens to them.”

A lifetime of misery, forced to use their bodies to survive. She thought about her sisters, how she’d do anything to keep them safe. Someone needed to fight for these girls like she’d fight for them. 

“I’m in. Wait, when is this all happening?”

He cringed again. “Soon.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “How soon?”

His golden eyes looked at the ground, the walls, the sheet still covering her. Anywhere but her face. 

“Spit it out, you fucking moron,” she snapped.

“Tomorrow. We leave at 9 o’clock tomorrow.”

Nesta saw red. “Of course it’s tomorrow! You couldn’t be bothered to give me more than a day to prepare? You realize we’ll both probably end up dead now because of you-”

He was across the room before she could finish yelling at him, slapping a hand on her mouth and hissing, “Shut up, Nesta.”

But she was tired of being talked to like a child. 

And he’d been stupid enough to leave room in her cuffs. Room she’d used to start picking them off the second she woke up.

She grabbed them, using the steel as makeshift brass knuckles, and swung, relishing in the surprise in his wide eyes as they found home on his jaw. Blood burst from the split skin, and he cursed.

Nesta ignored it as she swung again, aiming at his left eye.

But he was ready for her this time. He effortlessly blocked the blow, then grabbed her arms. She didn’t stop fighting; her knee came up to strike in between his legs, but he tackled her back to the bed before she could land the blow.

His knees pressed into hers, and he pinned her arms down with one of his huge hands, the other one gripping her chin.

“Stop fighting me, Nesta.” She swung her forehead up to his, aiming for his nose, but the grip on her chin tightened. 

Nesta was trapped, utterly trapped, beneath him. 

“This will never work if you kill me,” he reasoned. “Plus, you’d miss having someone as handsome as me to protect you.”

“It isn’t going to work anyway,” she growled. 

He used the hand on her chin to force her to look him in the eyes. “It has to, Nesta. They have to be stopped. And you’re my only chance.”

She glared up into his golden eyes, noticing the black flecks in them for the first time. 

“You’re their only chance.”

She sighed, then nodded. He released her chin but didn’t move off of her. 

“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly, realizing she didn’t have anything to call him besides curses.

“Mike.”

She took in the deep gold of his skin, the dark hair, the accent, and almost laughed. “What’s your real name?”

He smiled, “Cassian Nezara. But all my friends call me Cass.” 

Nesta couldn’t help but smile back. “Nice to meet you, Cass.”

They’d been too preoccupied arguing to hear the door handle jangling again. It swung open, hitting the wall loudly. Nesta hardly had time to register Cassian releasing her legs, sliding in between them instead, before his mouth crashed down onto hers.

His tongue deftly slid into her mouth, and she tried--she really did--not to moan at the taste of him. If he was surprised by the sound, he didn’t show it.

His hand slid down her body, Nesta realizing with a start she was still naked, leaving goose bumps on her flesh. He gripped her thigh and swung it over his waist, pressing his hips to hers. 

Then he “noticed” the man standing in the doorway and jerked his head up. 

“I thought I made it clear you weren’t supposed to come back, Farshid,” Cassian growled, hand still roaming her body, as if he couldn’t help it. “She’s mine.”

She’s mine.

“It’s the boss. He wants us to send over her file.” Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes glazed over as he looked at them. 

“Then send it to him,” he murmured before pressing his lips against the base of her throat as his hair fell into his face. 

She wanted to run her fingers through it, pull it maybe, but he still had her arms pinned over her head.

Farshid was still hovering in the doorway, looking pissed.

“Is there a reason you’re still here, wasting my time? Time I could be using,” he pressed his hips into hers again, and Nesta arched her back into his chest, “differently.”

His voice sounded husky, but maybe her ears were playing tricks on her.

The man rolled his eyes, but shut the door regardless, leaving Nesta alone with Cassian, both of them panting.

Neither of them said anything as Cassian leaned forward and placed a small kiss to her lips. “It’s nice to meet you too, Nesta.”

He rolled off of her, handing her the sheet to cover back up and settling in his chair in the corner. 

“Now,” he said, voice clearing, “let’s get you ready to win this thing.”

________________________________________________________________

“I said,” the stranger growled, “Why are you following me?”

His accent was thick, but his English was surprisingly good.

Feyre couldn’t breathe, let alone answer his question. Why had she been following him, anyway? Because she was bored and sad and wanted an adventure? Yes, but that’d be too embarrassing to admit, so Feyre went with a different version of the truth. “I saw you steal from that vendor.”

“Which is your business because...”

She narrowed her eyes. “The property of that woman is as much my business as it is yous.”

Surprise lit up in his violet eyes, then he smirked. “Well, feel free to tell her. But, you should know she doesn’t speak a word of English.”

“How do you know I don’t speak Persian?”

He gave her a look, then turned to leave.

“Wait,” she called out. “Where are you going?”

He turned around, amusement written across his face. “Follow me and see.”

“Where are you going?” she asked again.

He gave her a look that said he understood why she had followed him. That said he understood how lost and desperate she felt. “Does it matter?” he asked, extending a hand.

No, Feyre thought. It really doesn’t.

As she grabbed his calloused hand, she thought about how for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t thinking about Tamlin or things of the past. She was only thinking about now.

He pulled her to the ladder on the side of the nearest building, then helped her to the top.

She was nearly out of breath already, but lost it entirely when she stood up on the roof. The sun had fallen completely, and she felt like she was standing in the middle of the galaxy, surrounded by stars. The city was quiet and dark, lit up by starlight.

He turned back to her and Feyre froze again. His loose white shirt was billowing in the wind around him, violet eyes piercing hers in the moonlight. Her hands itched to grab a paintbrush.

“What?” he asked, coming closer, full lips pulling into a smile at the look on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She tilted her head up at the sky, taking in the thousands of stars surrounding them. “It’s like a painting,” she breathed, wind twirling her hair softly.

“Are you an artist?” he asked.

Feyre shrugged off the question. She hadn’t painted since before Tamlin had broken up with her, hadn’t felt like doing anything, let alone creating art.

He gripped her hand again. “Let’s go.”

She followed him over the rooftops, amazed at how comfortable she felt. With a stranger. In a city she didn’t know.

For all she knew, he could be leading her into a trap or planning on killing her. But for now, surrounded by the night sky, his warm hand in hers, Feyre didn’t have a care in the world.

They walked along the sloping roofs until Rhys held up a hand and said softly, “We have to be quiet.”

Feyre nodded, suddenly worried she’d been brought along to assist in some sort of robbery.

He scurried down a ladder on the side of the building they were on, Feyre following. Until the rungs ran out. She looked down at him, eyebrows raised.

He just raised his arms. “I’ll catch you,” he whisper-shouted from at least eight feet below her.

“Oh, absolutely not!” she said in the same tone. “You’ll drop me.”

He looked too amused for the situation. “I promise I won’t drop you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and debated her options. She could do the wise thing and go back to the hotel, try to get some sleep. But she didn’t know where she was, and no cabs were driving at this hour. Or she could jump, hope he’d catch her, and sneak into a random building.

Feyre decided she’d let herself be stupid, at least for one night, as she released the rungs and dropped to the ground.

True to his word, his arms wrapped around her, like twin bands of steel, as he caught her.

Then held her.

“Are you going to put me down?” she whispered.

He grinned up at her, arms still wrapped around her waist, as Feyre started to giggle softly.

He gave her an incredulous look, but she couldn’t stop.

“I just realized,” she said through laughs, “that I’m about to break in somewhere with you, and I don’t even know your name.”

He grinned, finally letting her slide down to the ground. “Rhysand. Or Rhys,” he murmured, sticking out a hand.

“Feyre,” she replied, shaking his hand with a smile.

He led her to a door, then pulled out a key. “And by the way, we’re not breaking in. Technically.”

He jimmied the door open, then pressed a finger to his lips.

Feyre braced herself for what she would see as she stepped inside, but definitely wasn’t ready when she looked down on rows of bunks, full with sleeping children.

Her eyebrows bunched together, but Rhys just shook his head and kept leading her through the hall between beds.

Fifteen.

There were fifteen children here.

He led her through a door on the opposite side of the room, and as soon as it clicked shut, Feyre started in on him.

“You have got to be kidding me!” she whispered angrily at him. “Robbing a kind woman is one thing, but children?”

He released a surprised laugh.

“I don’t steal from them,” he said slowly, as if she were dense. “I steal for them.”

Feyre’s brows furrowed together. “What?”

Rhys pointed to a sign above what she guessed was the front door. “Welcome to the Night Star School for Children.”

“This is a school?” she asked softly.

He just took her hand again and led her down another hall, towards a kitchen.

He took the loaves of bread out from where he’d hidden them, placing them in a still-warm oven, then pulled her into a stairwell.

They climbed up two flights of stairs, a fact Feyre was well aware from how winded she was, before Rhys pushed open a door above their heads. They climbed into a room of sorts, with completely open walls. The four corners of the room held stone columns that supported the roof overhead.

But that was it.

There were no walls, no windows. The room was completely open to the air around them.

And it was beautiful.

Soft white curtains were tied to the columns and blowing around them, giving the room the feeling of being in the clouds. There was a mattress on the floor, covered in burgundy and orange pillows. Blankets covered the stone floor and were draped over the edge of the room, and thick pillows were placed on the floor. 

She looked to find Rhys staring at her, looking nervous.

“Is this where you live?” she asked softly.

He nodded, leaning against one of the columns, hands in his pockets.

One of the curtains blew against her arm and Feyre laughed, smiling brightly for the first time in weeks. “I love it.”

Rhys gazed at her with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. “Smile again,” he whispered, coming to stand in front of her.

Feyre hadn’t felt so light in a long time. Surrounded by the night sky, she felt like she was in the clouds for so many reasons. She looked up into his violet eyes, noticing the shine of his black hair, the smile lines, the way his lips curved up.

And she smiled.

Without restraint, without wanting to cry, without the feeling of being forced.

One of Rhysand’s hands came to cup her cheek softly, and he said, “You’re beautiful, Feyre.”

She blushed, making him grin even wider.

“Are you a teacher, then?” she asked, stepping back. She needed to put some space between them, needed to get her thoughts in order.

She’d never felt a connection to anyone as fast as she did to him, and it both scared and excited her.

He nodded, dropping onto one of the floor pillows. “I teach English.”

Makes sense. “How many other teachers are there?” she asked, sinking into a floor pillow near his, surprised at how comfortable it was.

He sighed. “Besides me, two. Kallias teaches math and science and Viviane--his wife--teaches history. You should meet them,” he laughed. “They stick out like a sore thumb. They’re both Russian, and they have the most ridiculously blonde hair; it’s almost white.”

“Kallias came here two years ago,” he continued, more serious, “and found this place, completely empty. He used what savings he had to buy it, then convinced me to teach here.”

He seemed to sense the question she wanted to ask. “No, we’re not government funded. We’re one of the few schools in Persia that allows girls to study, and the government doesn’t approve, so... we have to make ends meet. Most of the time, we’re okay, but we brought on two extra students this year. Viviane doesn’t know how to say no.” He smiled, though, not seeming mad at all.

“And all the students live here?” she asked, amazed.

He nodded. “They’re orphans,” he replied sadly. “They have nowhere else to go.”

Tears stung in her eyes. She moved forward until she was kneeling near him, then slowly put her hands on either side of his face.

“It’s amazing what you’re doing for them,” she whispered.

“I wish I could do more.”

She leaned forward and softly pressed her lips against his. It was the barest brush of a kiss, but heat shot through her entire body.

“You’re amazing, Rhys.”

His hands slid around her waist, under her shirt, resting on the bare skin of her back as he leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

She pulled back to look at him. To look at the man who was giving everything, and wanted to give more still.

She didn’t know where this confidence, this sureness, was coming from tonight. Feyre had never been one for one-night stands, had always believed it was better when you had a connection. But she’d also never felt a connection like this, had never wanted to bind her soul to someone else’s so bad.

Feyre crawled forward to sit in his lap, straddling his waist. She smiled at him, sliding her hands into the silky hair at his nape. Leaning forward, she made sure her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered, “Make love to me, Rhys.”

Those violet eyes pierced into her as he braced her hips with a hand, tucking her hair behind her ear with the other.

“Are you sure?” he murmured, voice scratchy, as he continued playing with the ends of her hair.

She leaned forward and bit his bottom lip softly, then nodded. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life.

________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Click here for Part 4 :)

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[serenagaywaterford]

#5 - I am checking in now that you’ve read some of these reviews. Yeah, very uneasy about this development. You are right, if the diehard Serena fans are getting tired of the seesawing, imagine the casual fans, or haters. But I am still hopeful a firm and lasting June/Serena alliance is still a possibility in the second half of the show, we’ll see. Either that, or kill her off. I don’t want them ruining a great character. It is a bit tiring honestly, my enthusiasm definitely suffers a bit.

Numba 5 :D I take it you’ve read all the reviews too? Sigh. Just a great big head-shaking sigh. 

One minute I read all this disappointing, worrisome shit. The next I read something nice and positive that gives me some semblance of hope it won’t be  that bad after all, and then I come back and read new shit that sounds even worse than the initial disappointing stuff! What is happening lol. This is the worst way to build enthusiasm for a new season!! Honestly, I don’t see very many fans all that pleased in general. Serena fans are on anxious tenterhooks, Nick fans seem rather bummed by some of it, Rita fans are flipping out, Lawrence fans seem a bit hesitant, (Are there Fred or Luke fans???), Moira and Emily fans are also worried from what I can see, casual fans seem okay, I guess?? Everyone’s a June fan so... that’s sort of pointless to talk about lol. Like the reviews sometimes sound good, and then another one will say the opposite thing happens. (I really don’t know what to think about Emily’s arc... I can’t tell where its head is at based on the reviews/spoilers.)

I won’t post any spoilers, but just in case people don’t wanna read me bitching about the vague shit in reviews and interviews, I’ll cut this. Also, I’m a major Debbie Downer lol so I’m sure a lot of excited people don’t wanna read that either, haha.

But I feel ya. I’m tired. My enthusiasm has deffo really suffered in the last few days. I was just saying the other day that all these “teasers” aren’t helping either cos everything is out of context and says nothing really, but requires a lot of speculation and that’s just exhausting to do day after day. AND THE SEASON HASN’T EVEN STARTED YET. I remember last year being a lot more excited. Like legitimately thrilled, even reading the pre-season reviews. It’s weird to me to feel this way when I was soooooooo excited just a month ago. I was bouncing off the walls with joy! Now I’m burnt out, lmao.

“But I am still hopeful a firm and lasting June/Serena alliance is still a possibility in the second half of the show, we’ll see.”

You know. I’m with you. All of these reviews are based on the first 6 episodes of the season and it is sorta jumping the gun to judge a whole season based on the build-up. Six episodes isn’t even quite halfway. Maybe it gets significantly better in the backhalf. It just doesn’t bode very well if it takes 6 episodes to get things moving, and that even at that point Serena is still full on her annoying bullshit.

I’m pretty much a hopeless romantic in some ways. Like it won’t really matter completely but I will ALWAYS hope that there is a LASTING June/Serena alliance in the latter half of the season that is significant and shows Serena’s character growth--if there is any lol. Like, even in a non-shippy way, I want June and Serena working together. I’m gonna be picky and spoiled but I need it to be together. Not working towards the same goal, but divided and at odds with each other. I want them communicating and agreeing. Not just “Oh, look, there goes June doing her idea. And, oh, over there is Serena doing her totally separate thing, that’s vaguely related to the same goal?” I want teamwork. And I want teamwork with other women too. With Alma, Janine, Moira, (Emily? I dunno if she’ll be in a healthy enough place tbh.), even possibly Aunt Lydia. I don’t need unrealistic “super happy families!” vibes either. It can be terse and difficult and conflicted and they can stumble and miscommunicate along the way. It can require June ramming Serena with reality checks (as she does)... but I want them all in the same general direction, with the same general ideas of how to get there. Each has their own strengths, skills, opinions, and knowledge that would influence the goal in their own ways. Oh god, I’m making it sound like I want Ocean’s 8: Gilead Edition. And I want the complex June/Serena dynamic at the centre of it. 

But that’s my personal perfect world and this show is very much not willing to be that brave, lmao. (MAKE IT GAY(ER), YOU COWARDS. I’m only half-kidding.)

“Either that, or kill her off. I don’t want them ruining a great character.”

I used to be really opposed to killing off Serena. But that was back when I thought they were going to move her arc along to something better. If this all they insist on doing to her for the backhalf of the season, and presumably the next... just kill her off already. I suspect, based on Miller’s “jokes”, that he has no intention of killing either Waterford off -- which is a shame cos Fred just... go away, Fred. He’s redundant and so superfluous to these women’s stories at this point and I don’t care what headass sympathy-inducing crap they give us in S3, I will always feel that way. But she’s been a fantastic character thus far and to just keep beating this flipfloppy dead horse they consider “interesting” wrt Serena, just let her go. I can’t imagine anybody sticking around and retaining their interest in a character that literally never grows or learns or commits to anything and is constantly going one way only to flip back the other for seasons on end. Sounds... annoying and boring.

Maybe some people like that? Miller and Strahovski seem to. (I get why Yvonne does on some level: it’s fun as an actress to play with all those extremes. It’s challenging and exciting not to play the same note all the time. So, I get why an actress would think it’s a good idea for a character to be so... extra.) What I don’t get is why a showrunner/writer would. I’m not saying never have Serena fuck up--cos we all know she’s gonna--but just not the same ways all the time. Cos at this point, we been knew. We KNOW that every single time Serena does something kind/nice/good, she’ll snap back and do something fucked up. Like, it’s just EXPECTED. There’s no surprise. The first few times, sure. But when they keep doing it over and over and over and over...

That is fucking BORING. It’s come to just eye-rolling now. I don’t read these reviews and comments by Yvonne and say “OH NOOOOO. Serena’s back on her bullshit!! Nooooo. SAD FACE!!!!” Nope. I just read them and say, “Ugh. Again? Really? Yawn.” and “What shitty writers that they can’t come up with anything new for her to do.”

Like, we knew at the end of S2 that Serena was gonna regret letting Nichole go. Miller came right out and said it. And that was fine. That’s actually reasonable and normal and I can get behind that. It makes sense. I was all onboard for some serious grieving and regret. That’s totally understandable under the circumstances. I’m even here for the way trauma/grief/fear influences Serena’s often confounding decisions. And, I mean, I’ve seen a lot of cult-breakers and cults in general and all sorts of psychological stuff so I know Serena’s crap isn’t something she can just shut off in one day; it’s a long process--but it tends to move in a determinate direction, even just baby steps (or not at all). It’s so deeply ingrained and it’s ~safe. It takes time and I was 1000% behind ALL that. But by the sounds of that, it’s not really going in that thoughtful direction. People’s attitudes and beliefs may be difficult to change, but they don’t weave all over the damn place merely for the sake of shock and drama.

More like “We want Serena and June to scream at each other under iconic American monuments! How can we do that? Make Serena do some super fucked up thing for barely any reason!” Also, “Hide all her motivations! Make it really murky so people won’t understand it! That makes us clever. Hurr durr!!”

It’s just giving me Benioff & Weiss vibes...

Harumpf.

I will keep an open mind, but I’m no longer holding my breath that something amazing is gonna come out of this unless the backhalf of the season is exceptionally better than the first 6. (But again, I feel like S2 was like that. The second half did seem stronger overall. IMO, anyway. With 2 major exceptions, heh.) 

So, yeah. I’m trying to just not read or look at too much more until it starts airing. Otherwise I may talk myself out of enjoying it! LMAO. I’m so weak. (But I’m also such a slut for June/Serena so........)

[huhmeed]

1

Hello.

I am laying in my bed, surrounded by pillows. The air conditioning is on and I am wearing a sweater. Recently, I’ve wanted to start something and make it special to me. I decided what’s better than a blog where I just rant and talk about anything that I want to talk about, without the fear of being judged? I mean, obviously people are going to judge me and that’s why I’ve turned my ask page off... So people can’t voice what they want to say about me. Maybe I’ll turn it on sooner or later if this turns into something, but as of now... it will stay off. Also, quite frankly, I could give a bigger fuck.

I’m just gonna go off on a whim here. Talk about anything that comes to my mind.

There is so much that goes on in the world, and there is so much that we, as humans, are in control of, whether we know it or not. People always say things like “look on the bright side,” or “look at the positive things in life instead of the negative.” Well, I’m not trying to be a negative nelly but when the world and so many people’s lives are filled with horrible things, there is nothing we should be doing BUT addressing the problem(s) at hand, and focusing on the negative. Getting rid of the negative (or at least trying to do something about/talking about it) is the first step in creating a better world. I know that sounds cliché as hell but if you think about it, everything that we think is ruining our lives is deemed to be “fixable.” 

I could list a few things about the world for you off the top of my head that are fucked up that we, the human population, can very easily fix or make worse:

racism

war and terrorism

poverty

homophobia

animal abuse

climate change

unemployment

sexism

These are all problems that are in the hands of us. I don’t give a fuck how stupid that sounds. 

Sexism? To all the “men” (or as I like to call guys who are like this... “little bitch boys”), stop being misogynistic fucks and start treating women the same way you would treat your “best bro.” Forget about the whole “what if she was your mom/sister/daughter” bullshit. A woman is a person. A human being with emotions and feeling. The same as a male. 

I absolutely despise how society and generations upon generations before us made women to be the “lesser” gender. It is absolutely fucked up. 

I know this is something you’ve probably heard before, but women do so much more than men ever could. Apart from going through their monthly cycle and giving birth, if all the women on earth came together, they would completely destroy the male species and wipe out any evidence that men were ever a thing. The male population of the world would be a speck of dust and nothing more if that ever happened.

We already know that women can do everything that a man can do, plus more. So, why are some women, not even in certain countries but still, to this day, the United States being seen as inferior to the male species? I don’t understand. 

Just because you have a penis does not mean that you’re shit. It does not mean that you can do anything you want to and get away with it, and it certainly does not mean that you have to be an entitled piece of shit that thinks that females are your “bitches.”

Wow. I’m pissed off now. Which I guess is a good thing considering I want my posts to have a bit of depth and emotion. So let’s continue.

Racism and homophobia... I know they’re not the same thing but they definitely fall under the same category when it comes to centuries upon centuries of discrimination.

Side note: I am a religious person, so anything that I’m saying right now isn’t necessarily biased.

My thing is, in regards to homophobia, most people are against it because of something written in religious scripts, thousands and thousands of years ago. How about we look at everything in the Bible, Quran, and Torah that people fail to follow but yet are still somehow so stuck on one. simple. thing.

Bible

"Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine heart: thou shalt in any wise rebuke [reason with] thy neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him. Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the Lord." (Leviticus 19:17-18)

"Whosoever putteth away his wife, and marrieth another, committeth adultery: and whosoever marrieth her that is put away from her husband committeth adultery." (Luke 16:18)

"But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart." (Matthew 5:28)

"Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones." (Psalm 137:9)

"But if she bear a maid child, then she shall be unclean two weeks, as in her separation: and she shall continue in the blood of her purifying threescore and six days." (Leviticus 12:5)

"Master, Moses wrote unto us, If a man's brother die, and leave his wife behind him, and leave no children, that his brother should take his wife, and raise up seed unto his brother." (Mark 12:19)

“If in spite of this you still do not listen to me but continue to be hostile toward me, 28 then in my anger I will be hostile toward you, and I myself will punish you for your sins seven times over. 29 You will eat the flesh of your sons and the flesh of your daughters."(Leviticus 26:27-30)

"For whatsoever man he be that hath a blemish, he shall not approach: a blind man, or a lame, or he that hath a flat nose, or any thing superfluous, Or a man that is brokenfooted, or brokenhanded, Or crookbackt, or a dwarf, or that hath a blemish in his eye, or be scurvy, or scabbed, or hath his stones broken. No man that hath a blemish of the seed of Aaron the priest shall come nigh to offer the offerings of the Lord made by fire: he hath a blemish; he shall not come nigh to offer the bread of his God." (Leviticus 21:18-21)

"For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. And a man's foes shall be they of his own household. He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." (Matthew 10:35-27)

Quran

Kill disbelievers wherever you find them. If they attack you, then kill them. Such is the reward of disbelievers. (Quran 2:191)

Those who brag about doing good will go to hell. (Quran 3:188)

It is a sin to pluck your eyebrows.

It is against Islamic doctrine to have pictures in your home. 

Women are not allowed to wear hair extensions or a wig. 8. Wearing the color yellow is forbidden. 

A Muslim must avoid yawning. Mohammad said, "Yawning is from Satan." 

Dogs should be killed. All dogs.

Mohammad recommended women breastfeed young men. Then the men are considered family and would be allowed to talk to the woman unveiled. However, once she breastfed him, he would not be allowed to marry her. 

It is a sin to lie on your back and cross your feet.

Torah

God then commands that all women must have dangerous childbirths because Eve ate the fruit. In no way shape or form is it just that I must pay for the sins of my ancestors. (Genesis 3:16)

Sucking on bloody infant penis.

Not touching your husband/wife for half of your life.

Swinging a live chicken around their heads.

Showing your wife’s dirty underwear to a rabbi.

Your pants can be any color you want. As long as it’s black.

TV and Internet are assur [prohibited]. 

If you cut a child’s hair before the age of 3, he will be stupid.

So, all in all, unless you’re going to follow every rule in whatever book you follow, stop thinking that it’s okay to judge someone based on something that they can’t even follow. Muslims; before you judge someone for being a part of the LGBTQ+ community, make sure you stop yawning. Jews; before you before you judge someone for being a part of the LGBTQ+ community, make sure you you’ve swung a live chicken around it’s head. And Christians; before you judge someone for being a part of the LGBTQ+ community, make sure that you know you’re going to hell for doing so because well... you’re supposed to love everyone.

How about we think about what things were like back when these Holy books were written, too? With holy figures around, who would have wanted to be an outed gay or lesbian? That’s like coming out to your strict conservative parents... Someone probably would have cut off your head or shunned you from the village.

All of that is besides the point...

Why are people so concerned about who someone has sex with or who someone loves? It’s none of our concern. Like... at all. It is completely wrong and there’s just this morality that some people are missing. If something doesn’t concern you and you’re not affected by it, in the slightest way, then shut the fuck up and stop worrying about what others do. And that goes for the strict conservative families of the LGBTQ+ community that think they’re hot shit.

Your child getting married to the same sex is none of your business. You’re not affected by it. If you don’t wanna pay for the wedding, or you don’t wanna be a part of their lives, trust me when I say I think your child will be more than comfortable with that idea in a couple years. They won’t have to deal with your unwanted, unappreciated comments and thoughts anymore.

Moving on...

To those that think it’s in any way okay to think that someone is inferior to them due to the complexion of their skin... here’s what I have to say to you: Fuck you.

You are the definition of what is wrong with the world. Stop thinking that you’re better than everyone else just because you blend in with the snow. 

To be honest, I have met so many more beautiful African Americans, Middle Easterns, Asian, and Hispanic people than I have met white people.

White people think that they truly run this world.

Let me tell you something. I’m gonna reiterate what I said earlier about women... if all the colored people in the world came together, white people will be left as a speck of dust on the face of the planet earth. They would be absolutely nothing. 

There is nothing wrong with you just because your complexion is a little darker than the average person (which, by the way, is white). There is not one thing that you can’t do just because you’re not white and there is not one single race that is better than or superior to all other races. So get that idea out of your head.

I think this whole blogging thing is good for me. I don’t really care if no one reads it, I’m just gonna keep doing it. In the next couple of days, expect a post on how police are pieces of shit. 

Thanks for reading!

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 37 - LA Kings

3-2 Win

There is a two-fold pretext going into this game. The first one was plain and clear Thursday night in Philadelphia: this team is nothing without Jack Eichel. This team with Eichel is a fringe playoff team as we’ve seen this month. This team without Eichel is a team that would struggle to stay out of a relegation zone. It sounds harsh but yet another massacre in Philadelphia, it seems like every other time we go down there is one waiting for us, proves we need at least some kind of upgrade to make this team more than just the Buffalo Jack Eichels. The other piece of pretext to this game was the meaningfulness of the points in the standings. It’s funny to think of any game in December as providing critical points. Big games exist when they have significance with a broad set of fanbases or in the standings. The relative bigness of this particular game against the LA Kings isn’t really about the Kings. They suck ass again. In a league where many tell you not to even look at the standings until after the New Year the Sabres have been in a playoff spot for… weeks? Entering this game the Sabres had dropped three straight after a decent stretch since Thanksgiving where they most recently won three straight against better competition. Over the weekend they claimed an overtime point against the Islanders but got no points on Tuesday against division rival Toronto before getting clobbered in Philadelphia on Thursday. It was so bad I didn’t even waste breath on postgame. The Maple Leafs are one of four teams who are neck and neck with Buffalo. The Sabres were second in an exceptionally weak Atlantic Division at 39 points Thursday. Montreal, Tampa Bay, Toronto and Florida were all at 38 or 37 points. And so you see now how two points against the Flyers would have meant a lot even though the halfway point of the season is still five games away. Those points never came and now all of the aforementioned teams excluding Tampa have passed Buffalo and we’re out of a playoff spot we somehow held onto for a few weeks. No NHL game is easy but now would be a really good time to get a safe win against the Kings.

For the first half of this game there was a lot to be frustrated about. Luckily most of Buffalo was transfixed on the 4:30 Bills game so there was likely only a half-full arena and a handful of us online angry guys to feel that way about it. For the first period and a half this was a shot-for-shot duel with the LA Kings. 5 years ago we might have celebrated that, but these aren’t 2014’s LA Kings. The latent, trash Kings got the lion share of the nice shots on goal in the first period where they outshot Buffalo 10-6. Linus Ullmark stood tall making some pretty grandiose saves, most of which you probably wanted the defense to prevent. After the massacre in Philadelphia its hard to imagine Carter Hutton getting a start not on a back-to-back. Ullmark is THE GUY now and he’s acting like it. One stop I swore was superhuman where the puck was turned over in the Sabres zone in the midst of quite some traffic. I don’t know how he recognized the turnover mistake of his own team for one and secondly I don’t know how he estimated the trajectory of the backhander so quickly as to snap it up like that. Anyway the first period ended with donuts on the board. The second period began with what they had coming. The Kings continued their shot domination for the first half of the middle frame and Adrian Kempe took advantage of Marco Scandella taking a slapshot from the slot and beat Ullmark. For how much better the basement-dwelling Kings played in the first half of this game it could’ve been 3-0 had it not been for Linus Ullmark’s great game. I really do think the team plays better in front of him and this game compared to last game is going to be exhibit A.

The game continued as a Kings shooting gallery until the Sabres really began intercepting pucks and pushing back toward the midpoint of the game. Jack Eichel got a really great chance right in front of Jonathan Quick that just would not go. This game was still one of those where a stray skate could’ve been the difference of the Kings extending their lead. That Vesey line was taking their turn in front of the LA net when a rebound squirted out to Rasmus Ristolainen who buried it before Quick even knew where it was, 1-1. I’ve been informed Quick has not been good at all this season. I hate to see a good American goaltender down like that but it kinda makes sense when you think of how much the Kings dynasty was built on a defense they no longer have. I mean Drew Doughty is still there but if one all-world defenseman made a defense then Rasmus Dahlin should’ve backstopped us to a Cup run last season. For all the bitching and moaning about this game showing we’re not any better than some of the worst teams in the league Jack Eichel didn’t score a goal. None of the players who made October so fun really contributed until the dying minutes of this game. Yesterday afternoon we got the “Black Stallion” Marco Scandella to score a goal. That nickname was the imagination of Dan Dunleavy calling the game and I think I join a choir of folks absolutely detesting it. Call him what you will I guess as long as we can call him gone in July. Scandella received a pretty innocuous pass at the point from Sam Reinhart and put one on net. It went in and the home team had their first lead of the game with a little over three minutes left in the second period. The Kings tried to respond before the middle frame concluded. That sweet Linus Ullmark save I described earlier was a save on Anze Kopitar with mere moments left on the clock. Through forty minutes it was 2-1 Buffalo though.

The Sabres got some decisive powerplays in the third period; none of them increased their lead because this is the Buffalo Sabres we’re talking about, but they got them! They really did get some dingers off the posts and what have you too. It got a little frustrating. Almost as frustrating as this situation with Eichel is. You may wonder: what issue could you have with Eichel after you basically said this team relies entirely on him in the opening? Well you may have heard he missed the bloodbath of a game in Philadelphia. The thing is he took warmups before being announced as out for the game. Speculation circulated about the flu or an accident nobody saw occur on the ice during those warmups. The most detail we got was a lower body injury which was later retracted. Eichel came back like his normal self in this game so I got to believe it was just the shits arriving right after warmups ended. No matter what it was the NHL counted it as the end of his point streak… or did they? The chances tended toward Buffalo as the third period went on and the Captain almost got a couple saucy ones himself. Eventually the Kings pulled Quick for the extra attacker and Eichel got the puck to Reinhart who got it to Victor Olofsson who chipped in an empty-netter. The game broadcast and several social media posts thereafter referred to Eichel continuing his “personal point streak” which is not only something I’ve never heard before its also something that is quantifiably stupid. Then again other posts left the word personal out and said he’s now on an 18-game point streak. I don’t know if we really need to litigate this but that streak was all some of us Sabres fans had back when the going was tough in November so there is certainly a desire to see it continue.

Ithaca, NY’s own Dustin Brown tipped in a quick goal to pull the Kings within one in the last minute of play but ultimately the goal only served to make a few people down in Tompkins county that much happier and this game ended 3-2 Sabres. For a brief few hours while Buffalo was busy cheering the Bills to almost beating the Patriots in Foxboro, the Sabres were back in a playoff spot at second in the division. That Flyers game might prove to cost the Sabres more than just their Thursday night because the Leafs won last night as well and took over that divisional spot. Buffalo is only one point back and could leapfrog both Florida and Toronto Monday night, but both those clubs also play tomorrow night, and everyone wants to go into the Christmas break on a high note. I’d put my money on the Sabres not sitting in a playoff spot come Christmas morning, but I want to hear what you think so like, share and comment on this blog to let me know what you think.

The aforementioned Christmas break also coincides with a roster freeze that is already in effect meaning no moves for Jason Botterill… as if one were imminent. I think the need for a trade for a forward is a near unanimous opinion of the fanbase right now. However I will be a dissenting voice on the guy at the center of the Sabres last big top-six trade Jeff Skinner. The talk of him being upset not playing with Eichel on the top line is the kinda Coach-blaming knee jerk reaction that is so normal for us. It shouldn’t be. We’re trained to chase coaches out of town at this point and I really don’t think we have to right now. Yes, yesterday was another weird defenseman-playing-forward rotation and I too don’t like scratching Colin Miller out of any games but Ralph Krueger’s benefits to this club far outweigh his detriments right now. A lot of it is stuff we only see in streaks here and there, the not-so-sexy stuff like team cohesion and overall competitiveness when playing without the puck. Those are little things that make visible a behind-the-scenes reality of a Coach really revolutionizing this team. By all means take issue with the trash first half of this game and the poor play we still see too often from the Sabres, but don’t look for ways to blame it on the Coach. Midseason thoughts will go up in a couple weeks which will allow plenty of time and space for deeper conversations about the state of this team. For now let’s go wrap up the pre-Christmas schedule in Ottawa tomorrow. Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for Reading.

P.S. December so far is shaping up to be the streaky month. Three wins followed by three losses. The good news is if that trend continues they’ll beat Ottawa tomorrow and split the home and home series with the Bruins after Christmas.

[fempostsbyq]

#SAYHERNAME

“Move over, Black Girl. Minimize, Black Girl. Shrink, Black Girl. Disappear, Black Girl. Don’t be so loud, Black Girl. Whisper, Black Girl. Just shut up, Black Girl. Ain’t you tired, Black Girl?” - Hannah L. Drake 

At a very young age, historically and contemporarily, Black women around the world are being dehumanized and treated unequally. Whether we are discussing Elizabeth Eckford, the first black student ever to attend a school in 1957 with white students who insulted her after the integration which was caused by Brown v. Board of Education or Sandra Bland who was pulled over for failure to turn on her turning signal, ended horribly with the officer using excessive force and telling her “I will light you up. Get out. Now.” You wanna light her up for not turning on a damn signal? Black women, and not women of color because specifically, this is a problem for Black women. 

Skylar, Skylar is my name but people call me Sky. I from the southside of Chicago, IL, attended Walter Payton High School which was on the northside. From a very young age, I learned how to code-switch, being from the hood and having to commute to my school was in a rich, white neighboorhood I was no stranger to code-switching or saving “face” my favorite sociologist, Erving Goffman would say. I grew up in a two-parent household with two younger siblings. My parents always made sure education came first especially when it came to us because they weren’t able to attend college. I was up. I was a senior in high school. I was the eldest child. Of course, It was up to me to set an example for my younger siblings. I would wake up every day, looking in the mirror, rubbing the residue of my face mask off my face, admiring my skin, the melanin. Growing up I never hated my skin color, I was proud to be dark-skin, didn’t give a fuck about what anybody said about me, until my third year at Payton, my highschool. As I began to present my final project for my AP Literature class, I asked the teacher could I turn off all the lights in the room because I hated the glare that light had on the projector. After the lights went out, this guy in my class says “Where’d Sky go?! I can’t see her, she camouflaged.” A few classmates laughed at this joke, I for one, knew that if I was back home, on the west side, I would’ve fought him, plain and simple. I had to remember what Michelle Obama would say “When they go low, we go high.” I ignored his ignorant comment, I ignored the laughter in the class, laughter that sounded loud as hyenas, laugher that pierced my ears, laughter that hurt my feelings. 

Going to Payton high school on the northside of Chicago, I was surrounded by white people. White people who were ignorant, white people who did not know any better. It was not my job to educate them which is why I allowed all of the racist and demeaning things they said about me and my blackness slide. Fast forward to senior year, when I got into Stanford, Stanford University. I remember posting my reaction video on twitter, I went viral! I was filled with joy and excitement scrolling through the replies, I stumbled by one that said “Congrats, but are you sure you got in on pure merit and not to just fill a Quota?” Imagine, getting into the school of your dreams and some old white man asking you did you get in because you were smart or was it just because Stanford needed more black people and you just happened to get picked. I deleted my video after that, was he right? Did I only get into Stanford because I was black? No that couldn’t be right I was valedictorian, I earned this, why did I delete my video? Did I believe what he said? 

I was now at Stanford, A Black woman majoring in Biology at Stanford University. Slowly I started to notice that there weren’t any African-American Professors in Stanford’s science building. Luckily, coming from Walter Payton I was used to white people staring at me walking through halls except here, at Stanford, people would stop me and have conversations with me and then say “Wow, you’re so nice. You look so mean walking around.” Did I really look mean? Why is there always something wrong with me? I don’t look mean. Maybe I do. Smile, Sky. Smile because you don’t wanna give these people the wrong ideas about you. Don’t yell when you see other Black people, because they will think you’re ghetto. But, don’t have too many white friends because Black people will think something about you. 

I made really good friends at Stanford, of course, a few microaggressions here and there, but blatant racism, once. Halloween 2019, Me and my friends went to a Halloween party and a group of guys had on costumes that for sure appropriating multiple cultures and being plain racist. One guy had on blackface, one of his friends had on a sombrero with a mustache. Picking to be another racial group for Halloween, is the epitome of disrespect. Do these people really think In America I just wake up putting on my dark-skin? I sleep Black. Wake up Black. My Black skin, is the determining factor, for some people, how they are going to treat me. People die for being Black in America, and you think you can just paint your face with black makeup like this shit is a joke. Good job Stanford, these were the people yall admitted, out of all things you could’ve been on Halloween you decided that you wanted to be Black? I had to understand that these people came from privilege, some of these people literally had only been surrounded by people that look like them- white people. They never were surrounded around people of color, they were ignorant, but that was no excuse, you go to Stanford for God’s sake. You know everything in the world but you don’t know or don’t even care to educate yourself on racial issues. There comes a point where it’s not a lack of education its a lack of care. 

I was privileged, privileged with the education and knowledge I got from Stanford, for which, I will forever be grateful. I am now a pediatric doctor at The Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles. 

Helping children is something that I found a liking in when I was in medical school, and it feels so good helping others. Throughout my life, I’ve been judged, treated unequally, and plain disrespected. I did not let any of those incidents define me, which is why I am where I am now. Working 40+ hours a week, going to my own house in L.A. it felt so good, it felt so different than where I was raised, no more hearing gunshots every night, no more fears of getting robbed, I am now living a regular life. After payday, I took a trip with a few friends to Beverly Hills to go shopping with. My friends and I always get looks when we go shopping in expensive stores, like damn yall never seen Black people with money. As we’re walking through the store the employee constantly asks us do we need assistance. We kindly decline and tell her that we’re just looking, she leaves us alone, but constantly follows us around. My friend, who was already frustrated turns around and says “Ma’am we said we don’t need your help, stop following us around the store, ain’t nobody trying to steal nothing. We’re grown women, stop following us around like we are some little kids.” The worker gets mad, and she goes to tell the security that my friend is causing a problem and to kick us out.

My friends and I attempt to avoid the problem and leave out peacefully, as we are walking out the alarm goes off. We all stop, we all stopped in sync actually, we turn around because we know we did not steal anything. As we stop and turn around the security officer charges at my friend and tackles her to the ground, breaking her right arm. We scream and tell him to stop, shes about 5’8 174 pounds while the secruity looks like he could be 6’3 234 pounds. He’s on top of my friend as she’s screaming and gasping for air. He screams “BITCH YOU STEALING” putting all his weight on my friends body, she cant breath I think. “I CANT BREATH” she yells at the security. He doesn’t care, I see it in his eyes, he’s going to kill my friend, he’s going to kill a black woman over a crime she did not commit. He’s going to kill my sister. He killed my sister.  

Days later, we get contacted by the police asked about the incident, they were trying to convince us that our friend was stealing, but there was no evidence, however, I thought in my head, even if she did steal does that justify killing her?  She told the officer over, and over, that she could not breathe, yet the officer did not care, he stayed on top of her looking for some product she did not have. Weeks past and this was not on the news, why did no one care that this officer killed an innocent Black woman? Why did no one want to cover this story? Why is this security still working at this store? Why does America say fuck us? We had enough. We heard about the #SAYHERNAME movement which was a movement that calls attention to police violence against Black women and demanding that their stories be integrated into the calls for justice and media representation of police brutality. Our innocent friend was killed by an officer twice her size, over something that she did not even steal. This was a cry out for help. When we sit here and not cover stories like this, it is dehumanizing, they are essentially saying fuck my friend life, she did not matter that much anyway. 

How dare America spit in our face like that. Black women around the world are being killed, I’ve grown up being discriminated against, allowing people to constantly disrespect me, and no one calls out people for it. It is now time for a change, it is now the time to SAY HER NAME. 

[elizaslegacy]

it’s my problem that i never am happy

Period: Modern

Pairings: Lin x main character

Description: Eleni is a singer-songwriter with a lot of baggage, Lin is an aspiring playwright who falls in love far too easily. Their paths cross frequently and the following ensues. (Eleni’s life/music is pretty much based off of that of Marina & the Diamonds. I know that these songs have already been written and are not mine)

Word Count: 1, 876

Warning(s): cursing, mention of alcohol, mention of smoking, song about body dysmorphia/eating disorder/bad relationship/anxiety/OCD/nervous breakdown

A/N: Weird idea I had. We’ll see how this goes.

Songs mentioned (the versions I used):

Girls (Fast Car Version) (x)

Seventeen (x)

Obsessions (x)

Eleni climbed onto the small stage in the London dive bar, the chatter and laughter not ceasing at her appearance. The air in the pub was thick and hot, body heat and breath smelling of alcohol mingling in the dimly lit room. She tapped on the microphone to grab the attention of the bar’s patrons; a few people glanced up and acknowledged her presence, but most of the crowd paid no mine and continued talking and drinking. “Hi everyone, my name is Eleni,” she spoke cheerily into the microphone, huffing a bit when people continued to ignore her. “I’ll be singing a few songs for you all tonight. I hope you enjoy them.”

While scanning over the crowd and desperately looking for at least one interested face, Eleni had missed the intrigued gaze of one man who was sat at a table with his friends. The men chatted and laughed heartily, drinking pints after a long day at work, but the one abstained from the conversation to watch the stage. His eyes scanned over the performer, taking in her unique features. She wore a cropped cheerleading uniform on top, with leopard print tights and leather shorts hugging her wide hips. A sweater, the hood of which resembling some sort of animal, was draped over her shoulders. Purple velvet stilettos made her toned, long legs look simply mouthwatering. His eyes moved up to her face. Messy black hair framed her face; her features were dark and striking - thick and defined eyebrows, sharp cheekbones, tan skin, and expressive eyes. He was utterly drawn in by the woman on stage, something about her made it impossible to look away. She had uttered less than 20 words and he already wanted to know everything he could about her.

Elena briefly turned to her band and nodded; the infectious sound of the Greek lavouto started playing. Her hips began to bounce back and forth to the beat of the song, taking a deep breath before coming in on her cue. “Look like a girl but I think like a guy!” she sang somewhat quietly. Her confidence was a bit low due to the extreme lack of engagement from the people in the bar. “Girls are not meant to fight dirty,” she spat, flexing her arm muscles dramatically. The crowd began to pay attention as Eleni danced in her quirky manner. She looked strange, just bouncing around up and down as few people paid attention, but it dragged people in.

The man had continued to watch Eleni intently, smiling at her enthusiasm on stage. His eyes followed her around stage, observing as she pranced around. Her vocals never slipped no matter how much she moved. “I love your Botox! Bitch I’ll curtsey for you,” she screeched as she mimicked a curtsey. By the end of the song, the entire crowd had been drawn in by her elaborate dancing and unique vocals. Elena murmured a quick thank you into the microphone before the band began playing again. This time, an infectious, dark scale was played on the keyboard. “Used to be a major scale,” she sang in a low voice. “But the melody went stale.”

She continued through the song charismatically; the crowd went wild when she crowed, “Well, you don’t know fuck about my family.” A few more songs passed, and the man was still completely wrapped up in Eleni. His friends had begun to tease his relentless staring, howling that their little boy had a crush. Eventually, Eleni sat down at the piano. “Alright, so I apologize in advance because I can’t play the keyboard for shit,” she giggled in her heavy London accent. “But here is Obsessions. This song means tons to me, so I hope you all thoroughly enjoy it.” The bar quieted down and haunting notes rang out through the silence. “Sunday, wake up, give me a cigarette,” Eleni sang quietly, her voice stained with emotion. “Last night’s love affair is looking vulnerable in my bed.” The bare production and the vulnerability of her voice showed the man a new side to Eleni that he hadn’t seen that night - a side that made him want to wrap her his his arms and assure her that nothing would be wrong ever again.

“Won’t you quit your crying? I can’t sleep,” she retorted, the tempo of the piano picking up a little bit. “One minute I’m your little sweetheart and next minute you are an absolute creep.” The whole bar was watching now, ceasing their conversations to listen to Eleni’s heartbreaking procession. “Supermarket, oh what packet of crackers to pick? They’re all the same, one brand one name,” she sang, the drums kicking in behind her. She then let out a strangled cry out, shocking the audience. “But really they’re not!” she wailed. He swore he could hear everyone in the bar’s hearts break simultaneously. Eleni launched into a painful recap of her inner monologue during this supermarket debacle. “Look, look, just choose something - quick! People are staring,” she hissed in a whispery tone. “Time to go, quicker, skin is on fire - just choose something, something, something.” Eleni’s eyes were trained down on the piano, her fingers moving quickly over the keys. Her voice was weighed with the pain of retelling this story; the entire room was focused on her. 

“Next minute I am turning out of the door facing one week without any food,” she uttered; the man could feel his stomach churn. This woman was so divine and purely magnetic, how could she treat herself so terribly? “A day, a day when things, things are pretty bad,” Eleni continued with a twisted smile on her face. “But don’t let it make you feel sad, the crackers were probably bad luck anyway.” She continued to sing, the instrumental building in tension as the track went on. “We’ve got our obsessions,” she lamented. “I wanna erase every nasty thought that bugs me every day of every week.” Her voice broke slightly and her face contorted with pain, managing out the next lyrics. The song soon ended, and the entire room was left in absolute silence. After a few seconds, the man began to clap slowly. The rest of the bar joined in until the entire place was roaring with screams and whistles of approval. The brightest smile appeared on Eleni’s face; she lit up with pride as the audience applauded her. 

Eleni performed a few more songs before bidding the crowd good night and thanking them for their wonderful attitude. She hopped off of the stage and immediately headed for the bar. She savored the first sip of her beer right as she felt a small tap on her shoulder. Facing her was a man a little bit taller than her, who had long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail. She didn’t know it, but it was the man who had been completely enamored with her all night. “Um, hi,” he managed out in an American accent. “I’m Lin. Your performance was absolutely incredible.” Eleni’s face lit up once again. “Oh, thank you so much! It means the world,” she gushed. Lin smiled back, opening his mouth to say something back, but failing to formulate a sentence. She looked at him with her brows furrowed. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” Lin cursed, rubbing his face roughly. “I’m being so awkward. You have no idea how long it took for me to work up the courage to talk to you. I’ve been battling with it for your whole set.”

That elicited a genuine laugh from Eleni. Lin felt his heart speed up at the sound. I wouldn’t mind hearing that more often, he thought. “You’re funny, Lin. Let me reassure you, though. I am nothing to get worked up over,” she giggled, still amused by his previous comment. “Are you kidding?” he inquired in disbelief. “You’re, I mean...look at you!” Lin was at a loss for words to describe the exquisite beauty he was now faced with. She giggled some more. “I’m just Eleni! Little singer with big dreams from Greece and Wales.”

Lin sat down with Eleni, and the two launched into effortless conversation. They discussed family, favorite colors, stories, and so much more. Lin was surprised by the dark nature of many of her answers, but she maintained a casual tone while speaking about her awful family life and rough past. “My father left when I was two,” Eleni offered nonchalantly. “I’m not the biggest fan of him, especially since I had to live with him in Athens.” She described how her father had fought for custody over her and won, forcing her to move to Greece and leave everything behind. She spoke about her sister, who now lived in Barcelona, or how she ran away, which is why she was in London at that moment. Lin simply watched and listened in awe, soaking up every possible detail he could. 

The two of them talked their way through hours, only interrupted by Eleni checking her phone and realizing that it was 3 in the morning. “Oh god, it’s really late!” she exclaimed, and Lin began giggling. They both stumbled outside and braced themselves from the windy London streets. Lin hailed a cab and kissed Eleni on the cheek before saying goodbye. “I had a wonderful time with you, Lin,” she voiced warmly before climbing in the cab. It was only after the cabbie sped off with Eleni in tow that Lin realized they hadn’t exchanged numbers.

His heart plummeted in his chest, a frown working its way onto his features. Of course, he thought. Of fucking course. He had just met the world’s most exquisite and interesting girl, and he had no way to contact her. Lin began the walk to his hotel, his shoulders slumped defeatedly. 

The next few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about Eleni. Glimpses of her flashed in his mind at work, distracting him from whatever he was doing. He recalled her stunning features and cursed himself for not getting her phone number. “Are you good Lin?” his coworkers would ask. He’d shrug and offer a forced smile. He searched the Internet for an Eleni based in London, which yielded no results. She was performing in some dive bar with no previous fanbase. She wouldn’t be anywhere Lin could find her. 

Lin gradually began to think about Eleni less and less as the weeks flew by; her features began to fade from his memory. He was now totally focused on his work - a musical in the early stages. He was on the train from London, heading to Scotland for more writing inspiration, when he saw it. He had been searching for something to listen to on Spotify; he scrolled aimlessly through new releases. When he reached the bottom of the list, something caught his eye. The Family Jewels, Eleni and the Diamonds. Could it be? Lin quickly clicked on the album and observed the cover. It was a earthy, floral print with messy handwritten font. Right there in the middle was Eleni, casting a coy glance at the camera. His heart swelled so quickly Lin thought it might burst. He pressed play; the sharp violins of Are You Satisfied? began to play.

[thesundayread]

The mind of Taylor Swift

By Douglas Hardman

There is truly nothing quite as special or unique as the presence of Taylor Swift in 2018. She is the smartest business woman in the game and the most polarizing pop artist of our generation. Yet, she continuously gets berated, shamed, and ridiculed by the mass public, and it has been going on for years. Ever since the infamous Kanye West “Imma let you finish” speech interruption, Taylor Swift has been on the brain of everyone close enough to a computer or television, both in a good and bad way.

Taylor Swift started out as a country artist, writing melancholy ballads about heartbreak and growing up in the big scary world. As she shifted into more mature songwriting and delved deeper into the aspect of intimate and romantic relationships, the ugly head of slut shaming comes around, as it does. “All she does is sing about boys;” “How many boyfriends has she had;” “She just broke up with another one, here comes another album.” And then she released a straight up masterpiece of a pop album: 1989.

This was a huge turning point for Swift. With the critically acclaimed album breaking all previous records, Taylor Swift was a household name, but also a public “shame.” Accused of abandoning her roots to sell albums, accused of cultural appropriation, and accused of losing her songwriting prowess, Taylor Swift stayed strong, head held high. With poignant songs, such as “Blank Space,” “Out of the Woods,” and “New Romantics,” Swift had not missed a beat when switching genres, proving she could incorporate meaningful and thought-provoking lyrics into pop bangers.

Then the ugly got uglier. Without too many details (there are a TON), Kanye West and Kim Kardashian-West sought to take down the cultural icon. After seemingly burying the hatchet years after the speech fiasco, Swift and West seemed to be friends and were supposedly planning on going to the studio together. However, West had recorded a song in which he sings, “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex…I made that bitch famous.” Kanye says Taylor approved the lyrics, Taylor said she didn’t, Kim released a video of Swift and West on the phone talking about it, Taylor is “outed” as a fake and a snake. The ridicule and humiliation led Swift to leave the public eye for nearly two years, only to come back bigger and stronger than ever, but we will get to that later.

In Swift’s defense, it is never seen in the video that Kanye plays her the lyrics, “I made that bitch famous,” which was the more upsetting part; Kanye also never mentioned those lyrics, and they were to be added to the song post-phone call. After Swift made a public statement about wanting to be excluded from a narrative she had no control of, and no interest in, people immediately did what they do best: attacked. Flooded with snake emoji’s on Twitter and bombarded with hate comments, Swift felt defeated and retreated. But, in August of 2017, a good 1.5 years after the incident, Swift released a “bait-and-switch” song entitled “Look What You Made Me Do,” with a video that poked fun at her new snake persona, took jabs at the Wests, as well as her ex-boyfriend Calvin Harris (a whole other can of worms), and rebranded herself as the Snake Queen. Talk about a rebirth.

Now that I’ve flooded you with all this information, what is it I’m trying to get at? Very good question, curious reader. Taylor Swift is a smart and powerful business woman. Every move she makes is calculated and with purpose. “Blank Space” was a pop song that was a satire on the media’s portrayal of her as a serial dater. She produced 1989 as a sonically cohesive album (many complaints were that the songs sounded too alike) due to her previous album, Red, being snubbed Album of the Year at the Grammy’s due to its lack of sonic cohesiveness. “Look What You Made Me Do” was yet another satirical song tackling her tattered image while also playing into the “feuds” in her career. The first half off her latest album, reputation, is meant to represent the “reputation” she garnered over the years, while the second half is a representation of her true self. She knows the game she is playing, she plays it well, and she has always come out a winner.

The most recent, and most iconic thing, Swift has accomplished is so monumental. Ever since the 2016 Presidential Election, Swift was accused of being a Trump supporter by one small factor: she remained quiet about politics. Yes, the mere fact that she wasn’t vocal (which is false) about her political beliefs led everyone to believe she was a Neo-Nazi, white supremacist, Trump girl. And, boy, does everyone feel foolish now. On Sunday, October 7, 2018, Swift took to Instagram, after her final US tour date for reputation, to encourage her fans to register to vote. She does call out Marsha Blackburn, a Tennessee Republican candidate, and says that she will not be voting for her since she does not contain the same values as Swift. A fairly simple statement, but a very effective one.

Now the tides have turned. Everyone, minus Republicans, LOVE Taylor Swift now that she has broken the silence and taken a stand. As I stated earlier, Taylor Swift has always been vocal about her BELIEFS. She was always a strong advocate for gender equality, LGBTQ+ rights, and mental health awareness, as well as race equality. So what’s different? She finally put in a statement that is clear as crystal and cannot be compromised. She wants people to vote and she is not voting Republican in Tennessee. Since this, over 165,000 new voter registrations were recorded across the US. This is not a coincidence. It is also not a coincidence in timing.

After Swift was deemed pro-Trump, many people assumed that her tour would be funded by a primarily Republican demographic. Why didn’t Swift say something sooner? Because she wanted a message to be sent. Some would argue that she “needed” that audience to fund her tour, but she would have sold out regardless, in my opinion. But, it’s a bigger stab in the back when this group of people willingly, and blindly, gave her their money, then she turns around and makes a statement like that, and the checks are already cashed. The tour is over, her sold-out stadiums, and she held true to her beliefs. She didn’t need the money of Republican fans, but it’s just calculated and petty, which makes it even more fantastic. Following up with this, Swift performed at the American Music Awards that Tuesday, her first award show performance in years, and she sang the stadium tour version of “I Did Something Bad.” In the song, the standout lyrics are: “If a man talks shit, then I owe him nothing,” “I never trust a narcissist, but they love me, so I play them like a violin and I make it look oh, so easy,” “They say I did something bad, then why’s it feel so good,” and “They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one.” This is the most iconic moment in Swift’s career.

The Internet will say Swift single handedly took down the Republican party, or that she did it for the attention. Needless to say, the power of Taylor Swift cannot be denied. She is a strong and successful woman who refuses to give up the fight. She is a pop star yes, but she is also a business woman, a crafty one at that, and a human being. All these “controversies” around her just fuel her fire and she will continue to rise above the flames. Go ahead and light her up, because she’s taken flight and she’s not stopping any time soon.

(Photo | Google)

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds s01e17 A Real Rain review

Episode 17 – A Real Rain

Okay, so this is set in Manhattan, the episode this time doesn’t give anything away except for the fact that the victims may flood the team so much it seems like rain. I don’t know. I’m excited. Let’s watch.

Oh god, I love views of Manhattan, especially in night with all the sparkly lights. Times Square is so pretty.

And here is our unsub, so unstable it’s frightening. Ugh.

Why the fuck is he taping aluminum foil on his windows? Oh god, he’s beyond freaky.

Oh, and here’s rain, maybe that’s the reference from the title?

You know, I’ve never taken a cab at night in Manhattan, but the drivers never talked to me. Maybe they only do it with guys? Cuz they’re afraid women would sue them for harassment or something?

But I mean, if I had a driver chat me up, I would try and be conversational just so he’d get me to the right place. That’s how I do it here in Israel.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Oh crap! He just shot that cabbie in his face! Damn!

Oh, in his chest? But … guess it was pieced together manipulatively.

Two more victims? Oh god.

Zodiac killer? Sounds weird. Maybe he killed once for every month? Ew.

Would it kill you to make Kirsten a regular already? Damn it!

W.H. Auden (again?): “Murder is unique in that it abolishes the party it injures, so that society must take the place of the victim, and on his behalf demand atonement or grant forgiveness.” Wow, you are one fucked up dude, Auden, but you’re right.

I agree, Elle, New York should be experienced on vacation, not while working a murder case. Especially if you’re from there. Though you’re from Brooklyn, girl, not the same as Manhattan.

Wait, Reid has never been to New York?

Oh Hotchner, “Haven’t you talked to Reid about taking some vacation time?” and then Gideon is all like, “What’s vacation time?” I love you.

“He got picked up in the rain by a New York cab, so we definitely know he’s not a brother” oh Derek, you sly dog.

So he’s a white, organized blitz-attacker? Oh boy.

So. He blindfolds the driver before he killed him? Definitely remorse, you’re right, Gideon.

So the crime scene is between an abandoned building and an express railway on which the train doesn’t even stop. Boy that is one smart psycho.

So the lady victim came to New York to start a new life, and he just had to poop all over her parade.

He waited for her in the apartment, shot her and when she tried to run away, he knifed her? Oh god.

So it’s either a replica of a prison shanking, or a replica of serial killers? Yikers. Both don’t sound good.

So they’re looking for a small angry white guy with a day job. Well that narrows it down!

I love it that they made the Captain of the NYPD precinct they’re dealing with an African-American lady. So powerful.

“Terror in New York like we’ve never seen since Son of Sam.” Oh god, that’s some serious terror.

Wait, he’s gonna kill in a church now? Is he seriously that messed up?

What the fuck is up with his hands?

That lady is so sweet!

Did he just kill the priest? Oh god.

Reid why are you breathing down the poor detective’s neck? Leave the nice man alone.

You want them to pull that thing out of his ear? Oh god, I really hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with too much blood this episode, but if you must you must.

Ew!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The rector (which always sounds to me like rectum and I can’t hear that word with a straight face, I am so sorry) was indicted with pedophilia a year ago. Yikes.

Wait, the knife he’s using is made of flint? Oh that is one sick puppy.

“Vault of all knowledge, check my flow,” well hello my supreme genius goddess.

“Okay, do you wanna time me or should I just dazzle you off the clock?” I love her so much.

“Oh baby girl, just say no,” well if Penelope is preaching not to use drugs, I’m never gonna use them again!

Also, it seems that the unsub decided that those who were discharged from their crimes are to be convicted nevertheless and charged with the maximum penalty. Oh dear lord, I just used the Criminal Minds jargon. Fuck.

“You’re a genius,” “You’re just saying it cuz it’s true.” I seriously love this character beyond measure.

Well, yeah, the detectives don’t look at the innocent as possibilities for the profile, they’re detectives, they’re trained to catch bad guys. Period.

Can I just comment that Reid’s mug in this scene looks obscenely large? I don’t even want to think about the amounts of caffeine he consumes daily lol.

Oh great, so it’s someone who has access to their files and can see that they’ve been acquitted and select his victims. Oh boy.

They have to go to the DOJ for that, right?

He’s an everyman, I get it.

Wait what. They already printed it in the papes? Oh god.

Aww they’re eating Chinese and discussing the case. Hahaha I love those guys. But Garcia should be there with them.

And Reid can’t eat with chopsticks. I love him. You are just the most precious rainbow unicorn, Spencer.

“It’s like trying to forge for dinner with a pair of number two pencils.” My excuse if I ever fail with chopsticks. Thank you.

The rubber band trick.

Let’s see if he can manage it now.

Nope. Epic failure, and I’m not even mad at you for it because you’re doing it with such grace and style that I love you for it.

Okay, a new topic, is Elle seeing anyone?

And she changed the subject back to the profile lol.

Guess that’s a negative.

“It’s absolutely incredible. 1.3 billion people stay nourished with these things.” Oh Spencer, you are amazing.

Wait what. He killed a cop? Fuck.

And it landed in the papes again. Lovely.

And it’s the same reporter. Great.

“Someday a real rain will come and wash the real scum off the streets.” Taxi Driver. Nice, Reid and Hotch!

“What you got for me, girl?” “Who do you love?” “Depends on what you’re giving me.” “Oh, don’t be such a man.” Oh lord, exactly what I needed before I turn in.

“Small butt.” “Not what I was jonesing for.” “You’re killing me with entendres.” Oh holy shit if those two don’t sneak into a supply closet I’m going to do it myself. And I’m gonna handcuff them so they have to kiss at all times.

He’s just rattling off the numbers Garcia gave him, he has it so bad. I love you Derek, but you need to get in on that luscious bodacious blonde goddess.

Oh Gideon you are one philosophical jackal and you seriously just messed with my brain. If you ever let your mind go to the place where you think about taking the law into your own hands then the unsubs would be getting into your head instead of you getting into theirs? My mind is spinning. Thanks a lot.

Okay that asshole just messed with Reid’s mind in a major way. So what if he’s 24? And already working with the FBI in the BAU? Maybe he found his calling? Don’t be a jerk.

Aw great, that asshole reporter is scooping them on every turn.

He has a file labeled “Righteous Killings” that is disturbing.

They ask him now to help them … yeah right, they think it’s him. He has amazing detail in his reports.

Ha! Gideon totally just profiled that reporter as a total loser that needs that asshole to keep killing to make a living! I love you, Mandy!

A hooded guy just shot a rando. And then he checked to see if he’s dead or not? You just shot him! That’s what happens when you shoot someone!

Oh shit. It was an undercover cop! Dang.

Wait, why is he turning himself in? That’s not the psycho killer. It can’t be.

He fits the profile to a tee, and confessed. But I mean, it’s too easy. How is it that he’s handing himself in? I seriously doubt it’s him.

Knew it. It’s not him. Gideon asked him about stabbing him in the groin and he agreed, yet they assessed he was stabbed in the head. Knew it.

He’s just another psycho who wants to be arrested? Ugh.

Oh crap. They would have the reporter to publish that they caught the killer when it’s not true to lure him out. Oh snap.

“Something’s funky, man.” Oh Derek, your street side is coming out, you perfect slab of yummy chocolate.

Wait so those cases would have been sealed for now, because it takes them 3-6 months to transcribe them? Oh crap, it’s someone inside the court. I love you, Derek Morgan.

“Holler.” Oh Penelope.

And they got him. Let’s get that Marvin Doyle bitch.

And he called in sick. Of course.

Oh boy.

I love it when they kick down doors. I don’t know why, but it’s hot as fuck.

So he has problems with voices in his head and taped aluminum on the windows with more layers of stuff to soundproof the place to keep the voices out. Oh my gods he was totally off his rockers. And even scratched out the face of his wife! And he has boxes of flints. Damn.

Bam. They found him. The next victim. Shot his parents because they abused him. Oh boy.

Oh lord, he has a wife, and he’s going home, he’s gonna be shot in his house? Oh lord.

Oh crap!

Get there quick! Come on!

Oh great, so now both Hotch and Gideon are going to be in the line of fire to try and talk him out of killing Ted. Ugh.

Wow he’s really messed up, isn’t he.

Oh thank goodness. He was about to shoot Gideon! He was about to shoot my baby! Thank goodness for the snipers. Fuck.

Awwwwwwwww, they put the song ‘Hallelujah’ that they played in Shrek. I love that version.

Mahatma Ghandi: “It is better to be violent if there is violence in our hearts than to put on the cloak of non-violence to cover impotence.” Man, that was one smart guru.

Ghandi also said: “I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary. The evil it does is permanent.” Yup. One smart guru.

Overall, this was an amazing episode. A little too graphic for me cuz I hate seeing actual wounds, but they had Penelope awesomeness, and Hotch and Gideon were amazing as always and Derek was hot and Reid was precious. I’m happy. See you all next time!!! I can’t believe there are only 5 episodes left of season one! holy smokes!