#my taste in men has changed dramatically and this is NOT it

[artificial-ascension]

If Saturn Team Galactic killed himself right in front of me I wouldn't care (He's my little meow meow<3)

His great great great(?) grandma slays though.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which moving in together is a herculean task and jungkook teaches you how to fold his underwear.

> est. relationship, fluff, angst lowkey / wc: 3.2k

> warnings: mention of h!ckeys and or/l s/x (f. receiving), allusion to c*ckwarming and s/x

> in which masterlist!

note: who else will drunkenly research about men’s underwear and scroll through calvin klein’s website at 2am to write this for shit and giggles and self-indulgence if not art <3 as always i love hearing your thoughts thru reblogs/comments/asks !! 🥺

—

“pssst.”

“oh shit-”

jungkook looks up to find you standing by the doorframe of the walk-in closet, and the view instantly weaves a stupidly whipped grin on his handsome face. your hair is messy from sleep; your eyes are still half-lidded; and your lips are wrapped around the straw of the red water tumbler you’re clutching in your hands.

“baby! you scared me! what are you doing out of bed?”

“my bed escaped from me.” you mumble, padding across the wooden floor until you reach him. he watches in bewilderment as you fall to your knees and pull his arms out of your way. muscular body pliant underneath your dainty touches, he allows you to move him as you like.

“ahhh-” he produces a noise of enlightenment as you find a comfortable position between his legs, lying down across his lap. he’s forced to support the weight of your torso with his arm beneath your upper back, hand curled around your shoulder. “am i the bed?”

“mhmm, boo! i caught you. you’re stuck with me forever.” you go limp in his arms and dramatically press the back of your hand on your forehead like a damsel in distress, which elicits a chuckle from your boyfriend.

he bends down to pepper kisses along your jaw and exposed neck, plush lips brushing against the traces of love bites that blossomed on your skin this afternoon, courtesy of his friskiness. having always been extra sensitive there, the ticklish sensation makes you squirm. “that’s exactly what i signed up for.”

“oh?” you raise an eyebrow challengingly. “sure. let’s see if you can still say the same thing… three months from now.”

your fingers comb through his silky locks, taking a fistful and lightly yanking to pull him off you.

“as you were.”

a grunt tumbles out of his mouth when you change positions carelessly. in the end, you settle with straddling him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, where you nuzzle your face and almost purr like a kitten due to the warmth that you’ve missed in his absence.

the process of transforming an apartment to a home together has been… exhausting, to say the least. you’ve had most of the furniture installed before you started bringing in your personal belongings, but how can a space feel so empty and so crowded at the same time? too many boxes, too many bags, too many things left to buy. the line between what’s yours and what’s his is blurring in your eyes, and this is only the beginning.

you thought dealing with jungkook’s self-admitted laziness would frustrate you at some point, well… which it did. however, it turns out that it is precisely what you need in this type of situation. yesterday morning, he successfully seduced you into letting him eat you out on the kitchen island. you reached the height of your pleasure twice in a row, nearly delirious as he was lost in untamed lust and moaned about how you taste, distracting you from planning out what goes in which kitchen cabinet based on dimensions and convenience. last night, he had to drag you back to bed at 5am because you ended up organizing your bookshelf for two hours instead of only getting a refill of water like you claimed.

“what are you even looking for?!” jungkook exclaims with a hand over his naked waist, clad only in his boxers, as he watches you rummage through four boxes in search for something.

“the easel!” you whimper, your calves breaking your fall as you slump back on the floor in despair.

“easel?” he squats down infront of a box beside you, scratching his cheek as his puffy and sleepy eyes scan the other boxes. “i don’t think an easel would’ve fit in here, baby.”

“it’s a mini one. the one i use to display my favorite book.” you pout to point at it standing in the second level of the shelf. he recognizes it as the limited edition book he bought you last year, and the flashbacks of him standing in line for hours to get it signed by the author are inescapable.

if hearing you say that it’s your favorite makes jungkook so ecstatic that he wants to break down into tears, he doesn’t show it. instead, he nonchalantly throws you over his shoulder, making a beeline to the bedroom. he yelps when you angrily pound at his back with balled fists.

“ugh, i hate you! put me down!”

he clicks his tongue. “bad!” he lightheartedly chides you, smacking your ass. “i’m cuffing you to myself! do you have any idea what time it is? you have class in three hours!”

“but, babe, i don’t want to attend!” you cry out, slumping as you grudgingly yield. “why do you have to be so strong?! stop lifting weights for fuck’s sake!”

at the time, you meant it when you said that you want to take the moving duties slowly since you have all the time in the world but… you can’t stand the clutter and disorganization for the life of you. at the same time, it pumps your veins with thrill, having an empty space and being responsible to breathe life into it with jungkook. out of all the life-altering decisions you had to make with your still developing brain, this is the biggest gamble yet.

you don’t know if you’re blinded by love, putting your trust in jungkook when he said that he wanted to build a life with you; or if it’s arrogance, having the trust in your ability to stand on your own feet again incase a match is thrown in a puddle of fuel on the floor. the latter is more painful to think about, quite frankly. just because you can, doesn’t mean that you want to. you have to. you have to. with bruised knees from praying for a little more time, you have to. the earth doesn’t stop orbiting the sun when your house burns down.

either way, it’s too late to succumb to your inner monologue. the stuffed toys you own, including ones you’ve dearly loved since childhood, are scattered across the living room. the journal you’ve been sadly neglecting for the past two weeks is just freely lying on your personal study space. you’re here, safe in his arms, and if there’s one thing you’ll always believe in, it’s this. and you intend to make the most out of each day the universe allows you the right to be here.

“you can fall asleep like this? while i keep moving?” he whispers, wide palm soothingly running up and down the expanse of your back.

only if it’s you, you say in the back of your mind. “you can see for yourself.”

“psh. always gotta keep me on my toes, don’t you?” he smooches your cheek, and then once more, lingering and refusing to part away. you feel his lips curling up against your skin.

jungkook reaches for the tumbler you left behind on the floor, capturing the straw between his lips and plentily sipping until he deems his thirst quenched. he sets it aside afterwards, returning his attention to the laundry basket he purposely laid on the floor so he can easily reach inside. he’s been happily working hard on the laundry after you both agreed to wash the clothes you haven’t worn in quite some time to keep your closet clean and fresh.

a little hiccup though.

quickly and unsurprisingly, you ran out of hangers between his long-sleeves and yours alone. therefore, he’s solely focusing on the to-be-folded for tonight, which mostly consists of shorts, casual pants, underwear, and socks.

he inserts his arm in the laundry basket to push out the articles of clothing closer to the edge, grabbing the nearest thing and proceeding to neatly fold it over his outstretched legs. his white sweatpants lands on top of its designated pile, and then the same goes for your tennis skirt, as well as his ripped jeans, and everything else after that.

jungkook being jungkook, singing comes naturally to him after breathing and more than blinking. he hums, chest vibrating against yours as he does so, occasionally singing the lyrics in between because he means them. a tattooed arm protectively wraps around you to keep you glued to his body each time he leans forward. his careful movements, along with his mellifluous voice, fool your senses into believing that you’re being carried out by the ocean waves to the shore of dreamland.

your boyfriend freezes when one of your arm slides down his shoulder, an irrefutable evidence that you’ve fallen asleep again. you finally tired yourself out, he breathes out a sigh of relief. he cups the back of your head as support, eyes shaping into crescent moons as he giggles as quietly as he can after seeing your face.

“so fucking cute.” he muses, rewarding your cheek with another kiss before securely tucking you back into his embrace.

he carries on with his task to allow you to dive further into unconsciousness. he spends the next fifteen minutes folding the boxers that were still stuck inside one of his suitcases, patiently operating with only an arm. his tattooed one is still preoccupied with maintaining a protective embrace around you. shortly after, he decides that it’s time for you to go back to bed.

“there we go.” he says quietly to himself as he succeeds to stand on his feet, carrying you with his hands hooked around your bare thighs. you unconsciously tighten your hold around his neck and release a deep sigh of contentment in your sleep.

he kicks the door open, walking with light, deliberate steps across the wooden floor. he climbs on the bed, knees sinking in the mattress as he gently lays you down. and there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring in his chest as he covers you with the blanket, accompanied by the epiphany that he is doing this at 2am not because time has arrived to daunt him and he needs to leave your bed to go home. not anymore. whatever this is, it feels so fucking good. oh my god, he looks forward to spending the rest of his life feeling you breathe next to him, getting lost in how peaceful you look asleep when he randomly wakes up in the middle of the night.

he tenderly squeezes your arms as he leans down to plant a goodnight kiss on your velvet lips, sweet and loving. slowly, and with the smallest movements possible, he gets out of the bed to return to the closet.

“love, you’re not sleeping yet?” your tiny voice barely reaches his ears but it pinches his heart, even more painfully when he sees that your hand only managed to seize three of his longest fingers to stop him from walking away.

he sits down beside you, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i will in a bit, baby. i only have the rest of my underwear left to put away.”

you blink at him hazily, silent as you digest his words in your clouded mind. “you’re folding them, too?”

“of course.”

and with that confirmation, you eagerly inch closer to him. “teach me.”

“huh?” his forehead creases, eyebrows knitting in a state of confusion.

“teach me.” you repeat yourself, bordering on a whine.

“how to fold my underwear?”

you innocently nod your head as a reply.

“why?” he asks, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth because of your unusual request. but then again, he can’t say he’s much that surprised. it’s such a you thing to do.

“i can’t?” your lips form an adorably small pout, and you sniffle as your eyes water with unshed tears of drowsiness. “but you’re my boyfriend.”

fuck fuck fuck, he curses inside his head. his heart flips and drops to his stomach. holy shit, yes he is. it’s infuriating, how it requires you little to no effort to have him wrapped around your finger. the endearing sight automatically tugs at his heartstrings, urging him to cradle your soft cheeks in between his large palms.

“i’m just curious.” he reassures you with a chuckle, leaning down to press one more sweet kiss to your lips.

“we do chores together…” you trail off, nose scrunching when his brushes yours. you smile sheepishly. you’re relishing in the mere inches between you — how you can see that his pupils are evidently dilated, his brown doe eyes appearing rounder and bigger than they already are. “so i just want to learn how to do it right.”

you swiftly throw aside the blanket enveloping you when he voices out his permission with an “it’s so easy!”, cheerfully jumping off the bed. captivated by your unique charm, jungkook allows himself to be dragged away as a breathing, walking picture of pure adoration.

—

he finds himself sitting on the same spot on the floor, back comfortably resting on the cabinets now that you’re beside him instead of on him. your drooping eyes follow the every movement of his dexterous hands as he folds a calvin klein trunk on his lap, black with a white waistband. wearing an orange beanie of his you found stuck underneath the laundry basket, you obediently bounce your head as he earnestly demonstrates it with instructions.

“so you take this side and fold it over to the middle, and then! you do the same with the other one, so they’re folded equally like this.”

he briefly picks it up to show it to you from rim of the waistband, the two parts stacked and perfectly aligned.

“after that, you take the bottom and roll it over like… halfway? whatever, i just kind of do it by feel- and the final step… so you also fold the waistband here so you can tuck the rolled up part inside. it ends up looking this neat and compact, see?”

your gaze only flickers at the finished product, having seen what it looks like about a thousand times in his backpacks and luggages. “so these are called trunks… and those are called boxers?”

your boyfriend follows the direction your index finger is pointing at, revealing a pile of folded boxers sitting inside of his opened suitcase. he winces with his full set of teeth before he cracks up in laughter, the genuine curiosity you radiate is making his brain overflow with love and happy chemicals.

“right! those are more comfortable and breathable so i wear them at home, while trunks provide more support for when i need it, you know?”

“snug fit or loose fit this, boxers or boxer briefs that. you strip them off all the time to put your dick in me anyway.” you scoff, picking up another calvin klein creation from the laundry basket immediately afterwards.

a string of ditzy giggles slip past your lips. the light blue trunk was standing out among the neutral colors like a firefly in the forest, practically begging to be chosen as your first piece of work.

“i’ll do this one! you wore it yesterday. i love the color.”

his lips part open in surprise at your lewd and unfiltered response, a hand flying to his face to conceal the rosy shade that has begun to tint his flushed honey skin, many earrings collectively swinging and belly aching as he chortles. it’s embarrassing, really, how he still blushes despite having done countless sinful things with you. can you really blame him for being incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s so helplessly and hopelessly attracted to you?

he clears his throat, crossing his legs and moving to his side so he’s facing you. “go on then.”

you flap it against the air to straighten out the fabric, placing it over your thighs and meticulously following your boyfriend’s instructions step-by-step. you’re quiet as you commit yourself to the chore, floating in your little bubble of tranquility and concentration.

and jungkook is intently watching you with as much self-control he can muster. the urge to grab your face and kiss you senselessly is palpable, wrapping itself around his limbs like vines that have a life of their own, desperate to dip into the sun for a taste. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and he can attest to that to a certain degree… but dear god, its lack thereof?

there’s no sensible reason why the both of you should be spending your late nights in your new apartment doing stuff like this when you have an entire 55-inch television set up on the floor because you haven’t found the time and energy to attach it to the bedroom wall yet… and not to mention that jungkook had to write more batteries all types of batteries, tongs, and curtains as CURTAINS!!! in your little notebook of to-buy checklists because somehow, they never crossed either of your minds the last two times you went shopping for your remaining home essentials. his new gaming chair arrived this afternoon and he has zero clue where he will insert assembly time into his busy schedule. one of these days, you’re also bound to discover the plant namjoon left as a gift three days ago. he placed it at the balcony, and it’s only surviving due to the fact that it’s been a relatively rainy month.

although, that’s precisely what makes this moment so priceless and so grounding. you smoothly finish the challenge and sing “ta-da!” with a beam that causes your eyes to twinkle with a tiny sense of achievement despite your apparent exhaustion.

“oh?! looks perfect. good job, baby. goob job.” he praises you with a grin, affectionately stroking your hair. “let’s work together so we can go to sleep.”

his thoughtful words and action make you keen, coaxing the giddiness in you to bubble over. you playfully nudge his side as you haul the laundry basket closer. “i want to play. let’s see who can fold the most in a minute!”

“play?” his shoulders deflate as he sighs, battery running low.

“no?” your lips pucker up in dismay. “too tired, love?”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he gives it some consideration. he shrugs. “what’s in it for me?”

oh, damn it.

“the winner also automatically wins the light fixture debate?”

in which you’re referring to your month-long dispute over which color of the cloud light you should purchase for your shared bedroom. he insists on the white cloud that has the white light because it looks like a thundercloud, and on the other hand, you’re fighting for the pink cloud with the yellow light because it looks like the sunrise or the sunset depending on its saturation and brightness.

“alright!” he blurts out, a surge of energy kickstarting his system. he snatches his phone, which he left in one of the empty shelves near him. “baby wants to play a dangerous game, huh? the stakes are incredibly high! too high! are you ready? to lose?”

your mood sours when he begins using his variety show hosting voice, confidence dwindling but determination fueled and burning brighter now that he’s in higher spirits.

you roll your eyes. “yeah, sure. ready to lose the white variation in my cart, bro.”

he smirks mischievously, his childish and devilish laughter echoing in the closet. “we’ll start the timer! in three…! one- go!”

“freeze, you cheater! i wasn’t ready! put that shit down!”

—

note: soooo, are you team oc or team jungkook? i will be keeping score 👩‍💻

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm to be added or removed :D

—

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Lupe Vélez (Cuban Love Song, The Girl from Mexico, Naná)—iconic Mexican glamor, known for her dramatic romances and hot temper. she could do unspeakable things <3 to me <3

Greta Garbo (Camille, Anna Karenina, Queen Christina)—Enigmatic and alluring and made me bisexual. The perfect example of the eroticism in silent films that literally transcends text. Could literally not change anything about her expression but you knew by looking at her eyes what she was thinking. She’s so gorgeous.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Lupe Vélez:

(joint propaganda for del Río and Vélez) When I asked my 58-year-old coworker who I have been keeping updated on the vintage men tournament if there was anyone she wanted me to submit on her behalf, almost immediately she said Dolores del Río, soon followed by her assigned rival by studios (due to being the first major Mexican actresses in Hollywood) Lupe Vélez - which del Río did not play into and Vélez did. We love queens who know what they're about. No drama vs drama for the sake of publicity. These ladies are fantastic, my coworker has excellent taste.

A beautiful girl with a beautiful singing voice. She also loved small dogs.

Garbo:

A cold-ass Swedish WLW Sphinx. Had plans to murder Hitler that she never got around to. "She will remain always a child of vikings, moved about by a snowy dream."

First of all, she's on the money; that's how much of a treasure she is. She's beautiful in such a distinct way you need very few lines to draw her. (Drawing by Einar Nerman) She managed to be mesmerizing in both silent and sound films. She kissed a woman in Queen Christina (and probably several more in real life). She was super dry and really funny in Ninotchka. She got the hell out of Hollywood and stayed out, living for almost 50 years after her retirement.

Garbo is one of the many reasons why I'm gay. If you haven't seen Queen Christina please do, She is so gender in that film. Also her accent makes it sound like she's always talking in cursive and it's so hypnotic (or at least I think so).

She's a gay introvert, like all of us here on Tumblr.

Probabaly a lesbian, absolutely a mood when she retired

Mysterious and aloof, charismatic and enigmatic, with beautiful androgynous characteristics, Garbo is undoubtedly the most eccentric and unique Hollywood vintage star. Her aversion to fame and stardom makes her even more desirable to the audience, and her insane chemistry with the camera, an actress one of a kind! Her particularity and her oddity is what discerns her strongly from her hollywood co workers at the time, noone was like her and would never be like her. I think, to the utmost extent, that she deserves the title of the hottest vintage star, even though that would be an understatement of what she is!

SO gorgeous, her thick Swedish accent makes will turn your brain into pudding

[fatuismooches]

Hello!!! May i request how the habingers men act when they are drunk? How will the reader will take care of them? If you are not taking requests im very sorry you can decline my request

Imagine the Harbingers when they’re drunk. 

Pierro is even more somber when drunk. It’s not like he does it on purpose, it just sort of happens. He does like to drink some wine to relax after many long days of work, but the idleness somehow always causes his mind to wander back to the old days, to before the Fatui. And he thinks. He ponders a lot and reminiscences about the past, how things could have been different. He has always been left alone with these wandering thoughts until you came along.

Don’t let the melancholic tone steer you away though. When Pierro drinks, he’s usually alone, but that’s not to say he doesn’t want you here. He’s been alone for as long as he could remember, even lonelier after the fall of his homeland. It was just natural for him to be this way. Having you there makes him unsure of what to do because he doesn’t want to make you sad, but please reassure him. Lay your head on his chest and put your hand on top of one. Tell him it’s okay, and it will always be okay, that you want to be here for the good and the bad, through everything. He’s silent, but Pierro appreciates your kindness so much more than he lets on. You don’t need to do much after that because your mere presence and warmth are more than enough for him as he strokes your hair until you fall asleep in his arms.

Dottore has a varying amount of emotions when he’s drunk. It really depends on which segment you’re talking to. The younger segments tend to get more argumentative with each other. The older ones are more mature and handle it better. With the younger segments, they’re a lot to handle, even more so when drunk. You’ve witnessed them throw stuff at each other, hurl some nasty words (about other people as well), and generally be gloomy at the end too. They can be immature and hotheaded compared to the older, calmer segments, but it’s honestly quite funny to witness. They just say the darndest things with the most humorous phrasing, sometimes gossiping about that one Harbinger who always cuts their funding. Thankfully, it doesn’t take much to placate them. The moment one of them starts to get pouty, you simply usher them into your embrace, successfully shutting him up. This has a domino effect, and soon you have a bunch of clones on your shoulders, hogging your lap, even against your legs. 

Though, don’t expect the same outcome with the older clones, especially Omega and the original Zandik. Zandik has had his body modified to the point where such drinks do not have much of an effect anymore, and Omega is just… well, yeah, it takes far more than that to bother him. Zandik does not care for nutrition in general, much less alcohol, so you’ll rarely ever catch him drinking, but on the occasion you convince him to have a drink with you, he wouldn’t mind too much. It’s not as though he hates the taste. Though, a lot of it goes untouched because he tends to ramble on with his research and breakthroughs instead of drinking, so most of the time he ends up taking care of you.

Columbina gets even more clingy when drunk, if that’s even possible. While that aspect of her doesn’t change, she suddenly gains a lot more vigor. Normally she’s calm, eerily so, but it seems like the alcohol brings out a lot of laughing. The Fatui don’t know which side is scarier. She also has a very high tolerance and the recruits always watch in amazement as she downs bottle after bottle. She’s also the kind of girl who insists on refilling your drink. There’s not much you can really do than other go with her flow. 

She’s very upbeat and giggly when drunk. Tugs you to your feet and twirls you around, giddily humming and swaying around with you until she dramatically falls back so you could catch her in your arms. Columbina has so much energy when inebriated that you wonder how she does it. But, always be on guard with this girl. She will stop all of a sudden, and then fall asleep and literally crash on top of you. The first time she did that you nearly had a heart attack as both of you were now on the floor, her body completely sprawled out on top of you. And she did not budge one inch. So you were stuck there until the next day when you woke up in the afternoon with her now in another weird position. But hey, there are not much people who have the opportunity to see the third Harbinger like this.

Capitano doesn’t drink very often. He sees it as unnecessary and more of a distraction from his duties than anything else. Even on the rare occasion he drinks, it’s not much to look at. The liquid just disappears behind the ever-present darkness that his helmet brings. You can’t see any blush, any smiles, any hazy eyes, nope. He has a high tolerance for quite literally anything so seeing him drunk is a tall order. If by any chance he does get drunk, which seems really impossible, Capitano gets a bit more clingy. When sober, although he does give a good amount of affection, it’s still a bit of a struggle for him. Because really, him? Of all people? Being soft? It’s still surreal to him and he’s still adjusting. 

But on the rare occasion he’s tipsy, there’s a chance of him desiring such fondness, both giving and receiving. Normally, when sober, he gets a tad bit embarrassed and awkward when you shower him with love. But when he’s drunk, he’ll welcome it a lot more. Just silently though. He’ll always be a quiet man. He’ll return the favor with a strong embrace. He likes to hold you in his lap with an arm around your waist. For some reason, he likes to tilt the cup to your lips as if you can’t drink it yourself. He doesn’t really need to be taken care of, but it’s still cute nonetheless. Capitano prefers if you don’t bring up this experience. He’s honestly a bit mortified you saw him in such a disgraceful state. (You and Dottore definitely worked together to make this happen. There was no other way.) Then again, don’t get your hopes up too much. Your man is resistant to possibly every force in Teyvat.

Scaramouche doesn’t care much for alcohol. He is a puppet after all. The drink has no effects on him. And the taste doesn’t do much for him either, as he says it himself - he enjoys the taste of bitter tea far more. But, if you do manage to convince him, with all of his reluctance, he can’t deny that some sake and cherry blossom viewing is pretty nice. Although Inazuma brings up some distasteful memories for him, he can’t deny it’s beautiful. Kunikuzushi doesn’t talk about it, but he does have some warm memories regarding the drink. Sometimes, his family, his friends from all those years ago, would drink alcohol in celebration. The young puppet would watch in fascination and down all the bottles while his friends lay passed out in amazement. So really, despite all of his moaning and groaning, he won’t mind. 

Even though Scaramouche doesn’t actually get drunk, you like to think he does from the way he acts around you. You have a tendency to drink more than you can handle so that you could see Scara reveal his secret affectionate side. Whining and slurring your words results in a lot of grumbling and eye-rolling from your lover, scolding you for your recklessness. But no one would ever believe you as he begrudgingly guides you to his lap, confiscating the sake cup. Rearranges his legs so you’re comfortable. Strokes your hair and brushes it away from your face, drunk on you. But then of course pinches your cheeks, earning a squeal and a few curses from you. After becoming the Wanderer, the taste is unsettlingly comforting for him. Perhaps because it was one of the things that began to connect you with him. Even if you can’t remember him anymore, he still likes to go to that same spot to enjoy some sake and the view.

Sandrone isn’t very much of a drinker. It distracts her from her work, and she’d much rather enjoy some tea and sweets too. So, it is going to be a long and arduous wait to see Sandrone drink, much less get drunk. That is until you recruit some of your favorite robots to oh, just innocently put a few drops of alcohol in her cup instead of tea. Luckily enough, she sips it without a thought. After all, there was no reason to be suspicious. She programmed these robots to obey her. The only thing is that she programmed them to listen to you too.

Please stop her from working. She’s been trying to unscrew this bolt from a robot for the last ten minutes and she still hasn’t realized she’s using the wrong screwdriver. Some Automatons may need to be enlisted for help but just get her away from that and into a chair. Sandrone huffs and puffs with a blushing face about how she’ll get revenge on you later, but you can’t really take her words seriously when she’s leaning on your shoulder so cutely. Her coat is off and her porcelain arms are intertwined with yours, her way of “punishing you.” You strive to get her tipsy more often in the future. At least she actually takes breaks that way. You’re so glad Sandrone built a Kamera into some of her creations because damn, it was really useful right now.

La Signora is a chatty drunk. She has the tolerance of a normal person, getting drunk after a good amount of refills. Many times she drinks to relieve some stress, as you have to listen to her complain about all the useless recruits and how unreliable her subordinates are most of the time. She always tells the best stories when drunk, always going into depth about how stupid this person was and how this person did that. It’s best not to interrupt or console her yet. She just wants to vent her frustrations right now.

How to take care of her? Just be a good lover by keeping her glass filled, her lap warm, and her boredom away. With all of the fuss she makes, she ends up winding down by the end of it to thoroughly enjoy your presence. Rosalyne gets very comfy during these sessions - hair flowing free from its usual bun, mask and makeup off, a silky nightgown adorning her body. She is a very tall yet soft lady, so her lap is much more suitable for sitting than any old chair would be, she tells you. Signora likes to have a firm grip on you, her hands playing with your hair as she swishes around the alcohol, her legs entangled with yours so you could not leave. Her voice tipsy and a bit slurred she’ll ask you about your day, what’s been going on, how she misses her lovely butterfly dearly. Anyone besides you would be shocked to know how sweet Rosalyne is as a partner. Experiencing love and loss changes a person more than what they show. So really, taking care of her means letting her take care of you.

Pantalone is a flirty drunk who has no problem telling you exactly what he thinks, very unfiltered. He is quite a charmer when sober, but alcohol turns up the flattery a hundred times more. A lot of times, the two of you have drinks together late into the night, after he is finally done with his paperwork and whatnot. Usually, it’s paired with an exquisite dinner. Of course, he only purchases and drinks the most expensive and delicious kinds of wine of course. Whenever he buys a new brand, he always does the same thing though, which you gladly welcome. Pantalone makes you take the first few sips, asks you how it is, and then kisses you to try for himself. You always playfully scold him but you can never be mad at that devilishly sweet smile.

Pantalone actually likes to be pampered and taken care of when he’s drunk. Brush his hair out, help him bathe and slip into his robes, tuck him under the blanket with you. More specifically, he likes when you read to him. While he can handle his liquor well enough, when he gets overly drunk, he gets quiet. You never pry into what exactly he thinks about, but after being with him for so long you can gather that he’s remembering his childhood. So, although his weight may crush you a bit, just let him lay on your chest for a while, stroke his hair while you talk, and take his glasses off once he’s asleep.

Arlecchino is a lightweight drinker. No one has ever seen her drink and it is because of that. She would rather die than have anyone witness her being drunk. She has only a few weaknesses, the most out-of-place ones being you and alcohol. Normally you wouldn’t mind, but it gets to be a bit awkward when you’re drinking and she’s just there with her cold hard coffee. Even during a relationship with you, she’s still adamant about not drinking. Arlecchino is serious about not appearing vulnerable in front of you. She doesn’t want you to think about her any differently. 

She’s super observant too, so there’s not really going to be a chance of swapping her drunk. Perhaps if you beg and plead with her she could have just a cup with you. It is endearing to see her so unguarded and cute in front of you, but her lack of tolerance ends up cutting the quality time you have with her. There’s really not much you’re going to do when she’s drunk. Arlecchino tends to hiccup when drunk along with some intoxicated mumblings. Generally, she falls asleep rather quickly, so just cover her with a blanket and make sure no one enters her office. Otherwise, they’d have to die.

Childe is a happy drunk with a good amount of tolerance, so it’s a bit hard to see him actually get drunk, but it is certainly possible. He is instead the kind of person who tries to convince you to drink Fire-Water with him because he enjoys your drunk blabbering. He loves to bring up the things you said while drunk to embarrass you. While drunk he loves to chat and catch up with you, but he also tends to challenge you to drinking competitions (he has a competitive streak after all, always up for a contest) which usually ends up with you passed out and waking up the next morning to Ajax making breakfast (donning an apron if you’re lucky.) Though there have been times when you’ve been blessed to see a red-faced, drunk Ajax.

It would be funny if he was a fighty drunk. The kind of drunk who suddenly wants to spar with you out of nowhere. Wants to go to the Golden House with you but he can’t even make it halfway, literally about to make both of you fall from how much he’s clinging onto you. Though, it’s not too hard to take care of him, if you’re okay with a dozen smooches to your face and a lot of whining. He is incessant with his cuddling, arms tightly bound around you. It takes a lot of persuading to let him release you. What he would appreciate is a nice home-cooked meal at this point, especially if it's Snezhnayan. He’s the one who usually does all the cooking, so he’s actually really grateful when you make something for him. The only problem is that when he’s drunk, he wants you to feed him. After that, the only plan of action is to comply with his demands for cuddling in bed. Somehow, you still fall asleep after him because Childe refuses to slumber before you. Zhongli has dropped him at your house quite a few times so you’re used to the routine by now.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 27 - Lavender 8

Okay. So I've had this chapter in the back burner for a while. Just fluffing the bare bones of it every now and then. We are introduced to a couple of new characters of my own creation. Forgive my lack of creativity on names and appearances.

Note!! I've posted this part once and then took it down like 10 minutes later when I realized I wasn't happy with it. I apologize to the ones who have already read this part. There have been some changes!

I really hope you enjoy! This plot has definitely thickened, and more drama Llama has come. I'm pulling out all the stops.

Warnings! Drinking and Shanks fucks up big time! A bit of a time skip happens. Also, a SURPRISE!

Masterlist

Shanks is drunk. Far more inebriated than he had planned to be, but the sake and rum were tasty, and he and his crew were celebrating a raid gone perfectly. The hoard that Yasopp had found at the end of the fight, if you could even call it one, had been the cherry on top. The group of organized bandits had been at work for a long time, stealing and taxing the villages of this island until everyone was as poor as dirt.

A child of all people had begged Shanks and his crew to take care of the bandits. The redhead had seen another kid in this one’s place, a big sneaky grin and mischievous eyes, and had easily caved. Lucky Roux had found the trail to the hideout quickly, and it was over after that. The bandits and their leader didn't stand a chance against someone like Shanks.

So now, they sat in the bar that had the most booze, going through the bandit hoard for anything they may want for themselves. The villagers had been adamant that the entire crew took something as payment, and Shanks wasn't about to say no to anything for free. He was a pirate, after all.

The Emperor had caught sight of a beautiful hair clip, one simple but ornate with tiny blue jewels embedded in the silver material. Shanks had thought of his treasure, specifically his Snowflake when he'd seen the hair clip and had swiftly pocketed it before losing himself in the copious amounts of booze that flowed around him.

Now that Shanks was thinking about you, he realized just how much he missed his treasure. It's been just over two weeks since he last saw you and tasted your lips on his. Far too long since he'd been able to bury his head between your legs and bring you to the edge over and over before you were begging him to let you come. Or having you ride his cock until you were nothing but a sobbing mess who couldn't remember anything other than the names of the two men who you belonged to.

It’s been three months since the first time Shanks had gotten the privilege of making love with his little treasure. In his drunken state, these two weeks felt like that long ago, and Shanks sighed dramatically and slumped over the bar, his mug of ale sloshing dangerously over the lip, “Benn when can we go back to _’s island?”

Shanks is far from quiet, and the bar is still filled with other pirates. People are listening in, most uncaring for the drunk pirate lamenting about his want for some woman. But to one, the old man hears your name, and recognition lights his brain.

Benn slaps him on the back of his head, a scowl on his face as he narrows his eyes at his Captain. The idiot was drunk as a skunk, “You need to be more careful, Shanks.”

The redhead pouts at Benn, dark eyes glassy, and then he drunks straight from the bottle of sake he holds. He wipes his mouth, “I know what I'm doing, Benn. No one here could ever beat me in a fight. I can protect _ just fine.”

“That's not the point, Shanks,” Benn hisses at him and tugs his Captain close by his black cloak. He shakes him, trying to knock some sense into the other man. Beckman knows that Shanks could be irresponsible, but this was ridiculous.

“Think for a damn second. If someone overhears and spreads a rumor that an Emperor of the Sea is head over heels with her. It's over. You know her past, you know who would be after her. Not to mention that Mihawk would kill you.”

The redhead sees everything that has gone so well the past six months with you and Mihawk all go up in flames. His treasures would despise him, and he would have no choice but to accept that, because it would be all his fault. Already ruining something good.

He spirals further when he thinks about the news you had shared with him and Mihawk the last time the three of you had been able to get together.

--------

You stand before the two men. Shanks can tell that you are nervous, snow has gathered around your feet, and he fights the urge to pull you close and demand what's wrong. Mihawk sits beside him, concern swimming in his ringed gaze. Hank lays on the floor between the three of you, big dark eyes trained on his human.

You begin to pace, picking up the now massive orange fluff ball and holding him close. You hold Sukuna close to your chest, threading your fingers through his thick fur. They watch you take a deep breath and then turn to them, eyes wide and full of trepidation.

“My period hasn't started yet. I keep careful track of it, and it's been fifty-two days since my last one. I-I’ve been really sick in the morning and feeling weak, and all my books say that I'm probably… pregnant?”

Mihawk nor Shanks like the fear in your voice, but your announcement has both of them star-struck. There was a baby inside of you? Made by one of them? Shanks pictures a little girl with bright red hair and golden eyes, chubby cheeks, and a brilliant smile. It's picturesque and perfect in his mind's eye, a beautiful mix of all three of them.

Hawkeye is the first to stand from the couch and go to your side. He takes your face in hand, calloused fingers holding you so carefully, and then dips down to press his lips to yours. Dracule is a mess of emotions, but elation wins over all of it. Never in his life did he think that he would have this chance, and he vowed that he would not squander it. As he kissed you, Mihawk came to the harsh conclusion that he no longer had a choice in keeping his involvement in her past a secret. The warlord would have to tell you.

Shanks eyes his lovers, a smile playing on his lips as he stands to gather his treasures close. He drops a kiss to the back of your head and sneaks his hand around your stomach, a look of wonder coming over his face as he strokes your belly.

“A kid, huh?” Shanks murmurs, and his haki creeps forth, wrapping around you and Mihawk, “I think we can swing that.”

---------

Shanks seems to sober up a bit at the harsh reminder. He sits straight, frown replacing his easy-going pout. his first mate is right, and his chest feels tight with guilt at his incompetence. Had he really been that loud? Fuck. Shanks doesn't remember. He licks his lips and pushes the bottle of sake to the side, suddenly not in the mood for any more drinking.

How could he be this dumb? Shouting your name to the heavens in a drunken stupor, needing his first mate to come in and literally shake some sense into him.

“Thank you, Benn,” Shanks croaks and runs his hand through his hair, grimacing at the state it was in. Gods, what was wrong with him tonight, “Let's head back to the ship, yeah?”

Benn stands, tossing some berri to the counter, “Best idea you've had tonight, Captain.”

The old man stands to go to the bar and order a drink, watching the two men stumble out of the bar. Though he looks unassuming dressed in regular clothes like a local, it is far from the truth.

Wiseman is an old member of the Big Mom pirates and remembers the destruction of the Nammu Isles and the two members of the royal family who escaped. They knew of the location of one, but to hear the name of the princess who was thought to be dead was interesting news that his Captain would be delighted to hear about.

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

Thousands of miles away, a man sits at a dingy bar. He wears a navy uniform, and a Vice Admiral coat clings to his shoulders. His white hair is shaggy and unkempt, and a pair of brilliant green eyes stare into the sake he holds in his hand. He is clean-shaven with a sharp jaw, though his face is marred by a single scar that crosses vertically on the right side of his mouth. No one bothers the man, for which he is very grateful.

Today was his baby sister's birthday, and he always made sure to take off from any kind of work to mourn her. She wasn't dead. At least he didn't think so, but it's been twenty-two years since the last time he'd laid eyes on his sister. He couldn't visit her, it was far too dangerous for that, so the best he could do was make this day for her. Just like he used to before their home had been taken.

The officer knows back his sake, and the bartender helpfully refills his cup. He sits there for another hour before his peace is broken by one of his subordinates.

“Vice-Admiral Delemur?”

He sighs heavily, and a scowl crosses his face when he gives the younger man his attention. His crew knew better than to bother him on this date, so this had better have been important, “Yes, Nitchell?”

The young man gulped in the face of his superior, and Delemur cursed whoever had allowed this wet behind-the-wear recruit into his platoon. Wait. Fuck. That had been him. Was he an idiot? He focuses back on the kid when he speaks up.

“Vice-Admiral Smoker is here to see you. Said he would wait for you on the docks, Sir.”

Smokey was here? Well, that changed things now, didn't it? Smoker, and when did he get Vice-Admiral? He'd been a Captain last time they spoke- was one of the two people in the Navy who knew about Delemur's sister. The other was Sengoku, even if the white-haired man wasn't a fan of the Fleet Admiral.

Delemur stands and pushes his cup into the recruit's hands, “Here. Finish that for me. Be a good kid, and pick up my tab, too.”

He leaves the kid blubbering at the bartender and disappears, body dropping to the ground and turning into dust. He flies past citizens and pirates alike until he arrives at the docks. The officer finds Smoker at the end of the docks, and he reforms beside the other man, the scared side of his lips twisting up in a welcoming smirk.

“Hey, Smokey. Long time no see,” He murmurs and the other man gives him a matching smirk, “Nice coat.”

“Tomura, still a smarmy ass, huh?” Smoker drawls, and shifts the two cigars in his mouth to the opposite side. He looks at his old friend up and down, seeing the drunken haze in those green eyes. The Vice-Admiral knows what day it was, it's why he came to seek Tomura out when he found out that the other man was only an island away. Not to mention that he had news that the other man might want.

“You know it,” Tomura quips back dryly. He shifts to look out at the raging ocean, and two pairs of knuckle dusters clink on his belt. He licks his lips and eyes his friend out of the corner of his eyes. While it's good to see Smoker, it's odd that the other man would go out of his way to see him, even on this particular day, “Whatcha doin’ here, Smoker?”

Tomura doesn't know if he is thankful or not that the other man has never beaten around the bush. But he does know that he hates the look of pity that Smoker gives him.

“Someone's been talking about your sister, Tomura. Rumor says that it came from Red Haired Shanks singing her name, which started circulating about a week ago. News travels fast in the Grand Line, but there's not been a peep from him about her since.”

Tomura sober instantly and orders his crew to start packing up the second Smoker finishes telling him about the rumors surrounding his little sister. He can hardly see through the film of red that threatens to block out his senses. His hold on his devil fruit fluctuates, his body a weird mix of dust and flesh.

The G-5 Vice-Admiral wishes his old friend good luck and departs as quickly as he'd shown up. While he'd like to go with Tomura, he unfortunately had orders to return to Impel Down for prisoner transport. Smoker grips his friend by the forearm, hand tight enough to leave fingerprints behind, “You watch out for those damn, pirates. Good luck, Tomura.”

The white haired man books it to his ship, shouting orders to his crew that lingers around the docks. They break into action right away, most of them running to the ship to begin readying it to sail. Tomura goes straight to his cabin, dropping to his knees and pulling out an old trunk that is full of old documents and things from his past. He bypasses everything until he finds the old log pose that would lead him to where he needed to go. Back to the safe house. Back to his sister.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat

[silverview]

maybe the details of art are common knowledge, but i only read up about it yesterday. it's interesting! it opened in the west end in 96 & was something of a popular hit

it's about three old friends who fall out when one of them buys an expensive painting that's an almost-blank white canvas (a quiet night in); one of them aggressively disapproves, calling it pretentious; and the third is caught in the middle trying to keep the peace

had a ton of casts – a new one every three months. (the effect of this is interesting – more on that below.) tlog were selected to be the last lot before it closed in 02. if you don't already know, who do you suppose played each role? it has nothing to do with the weirdly deceptive promo pics. answers & more below the cut

mark played the friend who buys the painting, steve played the one who disapproves, and reece played the guy caught in the middle. i wonder how that decision was made. i wonder if they considered any alternative configurations (bf had steve & reece switched, which i think makes a lot of sense). as always i'm like. but what does the character say about YOU

they got mixed reviews. nearly every review singles out reece's delivery of this monologue, though they disagree on whether it was good or not. perhaps surprisingly, they don't uniformly characterise it (or his performance in general) as particularly angry. not to be dramatic but i would kill and die to have seen it, just that monologue alone

so below i've collected the most interesting parts of surviving reviews. the last one is my fav. some of them have interesting things to say on the effect of the rotating cast, sort of the opposite of the in9 meta-character effect, which i think is pretty funny & fitting

BBC

Reece Shearsmith is a little too giddy with Yvan's furious diatribe about his impending wedding - the laughs are landing so hard that some others are being lost in the process. But he is a particularly touching and vulnerable go-between, desperately sitting on the fence in the conflict that erupts between his friends Serge (Mark Gatiss) and Marc (Steve Pemberton), and finding - as you do - that those who sit on fences are liable to get splinters.

GUARDIAN

[A] play as bland and flimsy as this requires actors who are not only heroically talented but who also have formidable technical skills. Pemberton, Gatiss and Shearsmith don't. They are likeable, even mildly engaging but you are always aware that they are putting on a performance. What's more, they are far less funny than the two other casts I've seen. Shearsmith, for example, flunks the timing of his long monologue so instead of making an audience rock with waves of laughter, he gets only one big laugh right at the end. The silences in the evening, in particular the famous olive scene, are not eloquent, just empty.

THEATREGUIDE

I've heard, though, that other casts have had other dynamics. With some, it plays as light comedy, satirising everyone's pretensions to high passions. Others make it a touching study in the fragility of friendship and all three men's hitherto-unrealised need for it. The cast changes every three months or so [...] Just be prepared for the fact that the show you see will be different in tone and effect from the one your friends saw last year, and will probably be a glib skating over the emotional issues and implications it raises. [...] And while the laidback, indeed colloquial, approach of Mark Gatiss (perky Serge), Steve Pemberton (laconic Marc) and Reece Shearsmith (wickedly neurotic Yvan) may not be to everyone's taste, it's undeniably perfect casting to complete the spectrum of wall-to-wall talent that's made the show such a feature of London's theatrical landscape. [...] Playing cheekily with rhythms of speech and timing, they create a very English rendition of what is essentially a French play, substituting the de rigueur dramatic devices and flourishes with frighteningly real personalities that transcend the dramatic crutch of Yasmina Reza's Continental-style philosophizing text and sub-text. Admittedly the first ever cast of Courtenay, Finney and Stott all those years ago set the benchmark for the production (though I found them yawnsome and wooden) - and the League have the advantage of tapping into the accumulated performances that followed.

i think "laidback," "colloquial," "cheeky," "English" and "real" might be euphemisms for northern – more on that below

CIX

Having now seen Art three or four times (to be honest, I forget which), I've begun to muse that in some strange way it's a metaphor for itself. It's not just the performance dynamics, our impression of the trio's relationship, that varies from cast to cast... it's the very sense of how much real content there is in Reza's play, of whether it takes its thematic concerns about inherent versus attributed qualities (whether of a painting or a person) very far or not. In a sense, the performers are the series of diagonal white lines painted on to the white canvas of the play. And like the lines in the painting on stage (or so we're told), they're not pure white: some are vaguely yellow, some are sort of ochre-ish... In the case of the League, the bizarrely unrelated publicity images make clear that what's hoped for is a kind of fake-blood crimson tinge. So although there's no real indulgence, director Jennie Darnell allows the three to turn in a slight caricature of the naturalism with which the piece has usually been played, that little unreality often seen in the kind of sketch comedy where the group cut their teeth. The elegant apartment set is a world away from the League's fictional town of Royston Vasey, but the casting of the individual members plays to respective strengths familiar from their various screen guises. As Serge, who has paid 200,000 francs for the picture, Mark Gatiss exudes an appropriately smug and supercilious cleverness. As Marc, who faces off against Serge by declaring the canvas "shit", Steve Pemberton is more mercurial, with an air of suppressed violence. Reece Shearsmith, the relatively cuddly one [sic], succeeds in focusing audience identification on Yvan, the less smart piggy-in-the-middle. All three are of course skilled performers, and you can see the rapport gained from up to fifteen years' collaboration in, for instance, the way Gatiss and Pemberton trade facial "mugs" as they first consider the painting. However, this very affinity with each other enables them to skim over deeper elements in the play. When Shearsmith gabbles out Yvan's great bewildered set-piece about the complications of his wedding arrangements, we applaud the high-speed delivery but don't pick up enough of what he says to engage with Yvan's travails.

kissing this reviewer on the mouth for specifically describing what he thinks their respective strengths are & especially for describing reece as THE CUDDLY ONE like... idk if it shows but i'm obsessed with how people see them, and how they see themselves & each other

EVENING STANDARD

Not so much a piece of headline-grabbing stunt casting as three trained actors flexing their thespian muscles [...] bona fide drama graduates, not comedy chancers. This immediately shows, from their poise, projection and presence. Only the dimple-chinned Pemberton as intolerant Marc comes close to his rogues' gallery of BBC2 personae during moments of rage when he cannot come to terms with Serge's purchase of an overpriced minimalist painting. By contrast, Mark Gatiss as the punctilious, pretentious Serge is the epitome of restraint, as cool as his sharp, charcoal suit. The comic moments are all in context. Shearsmith, as the boyish Yvan, is increasingly troubled by his imminent nuptials. This eventually spills out in a breathless pseudo-Pythonesque rant against marriage that is as funny to witness as it is difficult to say. But throughout, the trio respect Reza's text, sidelining their insatiable appetite for the grotesque that has made their their brand of humour so distinctive. This may, however, be problematic. Having sold out in the West End with their sketch show a couple of years ago, some of the threesome's intensely passionate fans may see Art as a follow-up and feel shortchanged. The eye-catching poster may compound the deception, the chopper, axe and chainsaw being wielded suggesting some Grand Guignol flourishes which never materialise.

BBC AGAIN

The northern accents do not quite ring true in the sophisticated setting of a Paris apartment and often lead to flat performances, where one gets the feeling their brand of wit is not quite enough to portray Parisian conceit. The strongest display by far comes from Mark Gatiss (Serge) - the eerie butcher in League of Gentlemen - as the tall, slightly effeminate doctor who acquires the painting, striking just the right balance of preciousness and acerbic wit. The diminutive Reece Shearsmith is adequate in his portrayal of Yvan, the put-down-upon soon-to-be-married stationer caught in the middle of the feud between his two friends. But the biggest disappointment comes from Steve Pemberton, who plays Marc, the critical compadre who takes Serge's indulgence for contemporary art as a personal slight. Pemberton, normally the trio's strongest performer, well-known for his brilliant turn as Pauline in the League of Gentlemen, seems ill at ease in the role. His northern persona cannot quite stretch far enough to inhabit the part of Marc, an angry homeopathic freak whose insecurity finds it hard to cope with his friend's show of independence over the painting. Like the painting, the play does not remain colourless throughout however. One of the highlights is Shearsmith's 10-minute tirade about the difficulties of coping with the women in his life ahead of his impending wedding.

yeah this one is definitely my favourite. casually calls them ALL scallies, then calls each of them out INDIVIDUALLY for being a) gay b) short c) shit. absolute legend. did they ever find this reviewer's body

related, from this article in the guardian:

"When we first did Art, a review said 'Yes, but can they act?' and that made me angry," said Shearsmith. "I remember thinking 'What have we been doing in The League of Gentlemen? It's not standup."

in 2013, reece said art was his favourite ever play to do. highlights from the replies

[brian-in-finance]

Photo: Oliver Holms / EE BAFTA Film Awards • Charles Finch & Chanel Pre-BAFTA Party • 17 February 2024 / Found on Twitter

Video 📹 from Instagram

Harper’s Bazaar UK • May 2024

FLASH! We join Lon­don’s glit­terati at Chanel and Charles Finch’s an­nual star-stud­ded pre-Baf­tas bash

Dramatic skies poured outside on the eve of the Baftas, but the intimate corners and warming fireplaces of 5 Hertford Street drew in Britain’s best-loved talents and Hollywood stars for the annual Charles Finch and Chanel party. Emily Blunt and Tom Ford kissed hello, before collecting glasses of champagne and going over to greet Gwendoline Christie and Giles Deacon. As the mariachi band played a lively set, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, George MacKay and Minnie Driver chatted together, while Bel Powley and Douglas Booth unwound after a busy day, having first attended a birthday lunch for Powley’s mother, before the Simone Rocha A/W 24 fashion show, declaring with intent: ‘Now we can relax!’

Bob Geldof and Mariella Frostrup linked arms to lead the charge down to dinner, followed by Isla Fisher, who was admiring the interiors. Once everyone was seated, Charles Finch addressed the room: ‘It has been an incredible year for cinema,’ he said, also paying homage to his co-host Chanel and its historic affinity with film – creating haute-couture outfits for productions such as the New Wave Last Year at Marienbad, and countless memorable red-carpet looks. Over lobster salad and poussin, conversation and wine flowed: the nominees Margot Robbie and Greta Gerwig were deep in conversation, and Richard E Grant caught up with his Saltburn director Emerald Fennell. Last year’s winner Emma Mackey was all smiles in anticipation of presenting the Rising Star Award, saying, ‘It’s quite mad, I’ve no idea who will get it, so I hope I don’t mess it up.’ It was almost midnight when guests began to descend on the dancefloor, where the party was only just beginning.

Page 170

60 SECONDS WITH…

CAITRÍONA BALFE

Who would play you in a film of your life?

‘Saoirse Ronan – she would make me very fabulous.’

Your all-time favourite soundtrack

‘Le Mépris. It’s so evocative and takes you somewhere incredible.’

The movie that changed your life

‘Dead Poets Society. It showed me the power of storytelling and solidified the fact that I wanted to be an actor.’

A silver-screen icon you’d like to meet

‘Gena Rowlands is my absolute idol – I’m holding out hope.’

Page 174

Remember… the people I find beautiful are the people who inspire me. I love unusual beauty like Peggy Guggenheim, who had incredible style and taste. Gina Rowlands is also someone I think of as beautiful. I like women like that. I like men like that. It's not all necessarily about the Best Body or the Best Hair. I think it's much more important to do incredible things with your life. — Caitríona Balfe, Cara (magazine), August 2016

[slitherpuffinstories]

Drarry AU microfic, feat. Florean Fortescue x August Ollivander ~ Ice-cream

Florean had noticed it very quickly.

“Hey, Auggie. August! That boy over there, sitting with Harry, has he always been there?”

His boyfriend August approached him, grinning while rolling his eyes. His pierced eyebrow was relaxed, which meant that he was in a good mood. That didn’t stop him from being an arse, though.

“Of bloody course he hasn’t always been there, Florie.”

“Oh, you know what I meant!”

“No, he certainly hasn’t, now that you mention.” August came closer and took a look out the little window to the ice-cream bar. He put a hand on Florean’s shoulder and looked excited as he turned around to smile at him. “They’re sitting really close, don’t you think?”

“That boy looks like you, August!” Florian chuckled. “The blond hair, the eyes… although you only have one.”

August did, in fact, have two eyes. But only one eye that was blue. He blinked slowly at the sun, like a cat, and peeked out again. Only his brown eye was visible to Florean from this angle.

“You’re right. He does look a little like me! Only sixteen, and Harry already has good taste in men!”

Florean scoffed, nudging his boyfriend’s shoulder. “We have ice-cream to sell.”

“We have no customers except those two lovebirds anyway!”

Florean rolled his eyes and leaned onto August’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

“If I’m right and that is the Malfoy boy that Harry has been talking about, he surely has a lot more in common with me than just looks”, said August softly.

“Florean! Get over here! Harry just dropped his ice-cream!”

“Did he catch it in time?” Florean rushed over to the window, looking worried.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point, get over here now!”

“I am here!”

“Look, then!”

Harry, the boy Florean had grown to treasure the most after his boyfriend, had just straightened his back and leaned against the bench he was sitting on, holding the cup of ice-cream in his palm. Florean let out a sigh of relief, but he quickly breathed in again as Harry turned to face the blond boy, Draco, and smiled at him. Lo and behold, the other boy smiled back. Just a quick smile, then he turned his face down.

Florean was reached by a distant “Are you… laughing, Malfoy?”, and he saw the blond boy shake his head a few times, still laughing.

It was a drastic change to what Florean had witnessed a few weeks ago, when a grumpy blond boy he’d never seen but heard a lot about sat down in front of Harry at his favourite table, slamming his hand next to Harry’s open schoolbook.

“Am I imagining this, or does that look exactly like when you and I became friends years and years ago?”, Florian teased, and August’s head snapped up.

“I did not blush like that. Ever.”

“Well, my memory must be playing tricks on me then.”

Harry and Draco were blissfully unaware that anyone was watching them. So they kept meeting up at the ice-cream bar, day after day.

“Oh Merlin, this is the best one yet!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s an ice-cream, Potter. Why so excited?”

“This flavour is the best. I don’t even know what I took, I just snatched something from the van. I love the colour!”

Draco watched him in silence as he kept talking.

“… here, do you want to taste it?” Harry held up a spoonful of his ice-cream to Draco’s face. Draco wrinkled his nose.

“That’s your spoon, Harry. I’m not exchanging germs with you.”

“Suit yourself. You’ll have to offer me your own spoon, then.”

“Well then my germs will still be in your ice-cream.”

“Don’t be such a wuss”, Harry said dramatically, snatching Draco’s spoon from his own cup of vanilla ice-cream. “It’s some sort of fruit. I don’t know which one. Go on”, ha said as he took a scoop and held up the spoon again. “Taste it! I swear it’s worth it!”

Draco leaned back a bit. “I’ll take the spoon myself, thanks. You don���t need to feed me.”

Harry grimaced. “You’re so grumpy today. You’re no fun.” Then he tilted his head, and his grin widened. He reached forward, still holding the spoon full of colourful ice-cream in his hand. Draco stared, not sure what to do.

Harry glanced down at the spoon and up again, scooting across the bench to be even closer to Draco than before. Draco still didn’t move, just kept his eyes locked on Harry’s own. When Harry’s hand with the spoon were close enough for Draco to reach out and eat the ice-cream, he suddenly reached out and steered it aside. Harry’s eyes widened.

They were both quiet, so quiet, and Harry was just about to ask what was going on when Draco suddenly snatched the spoon from his grip and put one hand behind his head to hold Harry still as he shoved ice-cream into his face.

“Draco!” Harry spluttered, letting out a shocked laugh. “What was that for?”

“Because you’re a git!” Draco seemed delighted by the sight of Harry’s nose and cheek covered in ice-cream. He laughed until he barely could breathe anymore. Harry laughed too, and scooped up more ice-cream.

“I’m going to make you do it if it’s the last thing I ever do! Got me?”

Draco raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, staying still and completely silent again as Harry came even closer and nudged the corner of his lips with the spoon. Then he moved again, lifted two pale, slender fingers and moved the spoon aside. Harry sighed, but the sigh got caught in his throat when Draco whispered:

“Aren’t you going to stop me?”

Harry blinked at him, and swallowed.

“I’d rather just let you. See where it leads to.”

“See where it leads to, huh?” Draco suddenly seemed to lose his composure, his eyes flickering as he took hold of the spoon and put it aside. He held his head low as he reached for a napkin, lifted his head again, only slightly, to dry off the ice-cream from Harry’s face. Harry let him.

When he was done, he dropped the napkin and looked back into Harry’s eyes. They were still very, very close.

“Hey”, Harry mumbled. “I’m nervous too.”

Draco didn’t know what to respond to that. All he could do was cup Harry’s check in his hand, and lean forward.

Harry’s lips grazed his, and Draco stiffened and closed his eyes, his heart almost beating out of his chest. He couldn’t manage to do anything more at the moment. Harry had closed his eyes, Draco felt his eyelashes on his cheek, and he smiled.

And then…

“Shit”, Harry cursed before pulling away. “Draco, they-“

Draco’s head snapped towards the little van that was the ice-cream bar, and he groaned and hid his face in his hands.

“Has he been watching the whole time?”

“I think so”, Harry said, his voice strained. “Oh, and his boyfriend too.”

As if the happy smile on Florean Fortescue’s face wasn’t enough, another head appeared behind him. A blond guy Harry knew very well. Harry groaned and turned to face Draco, letting him hide his face in the crook of his neck.

“Embarrassing”, Draco hissed.

“At least they’re not even close to being homophobes”, Harry chuckled, his face hot.

“But still embarrassing”, Draco choked out.

“Okay, er”, Harry said quickly, standing up. “Let’s just go. Like. Right now.”

“Right.” Draco stood up too, sliding his hand into Harry’s and turning around to grimace at the two men in the van. The two were smiling even wider now, and Florean looked excited as ever.

Harry and Draco started running, but when they were out of sight from the van, Harry couldn’t wait anymore. He tugged at Draco’s waist and pulled him back again, trapping his lips in a kiss, a real one this time. And Draco kissed him back, letting himself relax against the arm Harry had wrapped around his lower back.

They couldn’t contain themselves for long. Harry started laughing first, Draco shortly after. They soon collapsed against each other, and Harry leaned his chin against Draco’s shoulder and whispered: “I’m sorry it turned out like that.”

“It was perfect, you git. Don’t apologise.” Draco paused for a moment, pulling away to look at the other boy. He smiled warmly. “That ice-cream must have tasted pretty nice. I doubt your lips taste of…” He leaned in and whispered in Harry’s ear. “… naturally.”

Harry blinked. “So that’s what it was, then.”

Draco had to kiss him again because of that stupid look on his face.

“I knew it!” Florean placed a kiss on August’s lips. “I knew that there was something between those two!”

“I think we embarrassed them. Did we embarrass them?”

“Only a little. It’s fine!” Florean grinned widely.

[hirik0]

Catch me if you can part 1

Ghost/Roach | Celebrity AU

Gary 'Roach' Sanderson on Tiktok know simply as 🪳Bugboy 🪳 has one of the biggest fan edit accounts for popular actor Simon Riley best know for his roll as 'the Ghost' in a action movie the first project he worked on after his long child actor career. It was quite a change seeing him going from being the love intressted in teenage movies to a wanted CIA agent that got dropped by the agency. Roach liked both versions what maybe is related to the celebrity crush he has since he is 12. Earlier this year Simon Roley returned to the popular cop show 'The new Sherlock Holmes' he left to film a movie trilogie where he was a Knight fighting in a medieval war. Being the well beloved leader of the SWAT team, Martin Jackson, from new Scotland Yard. It honestly was a hugh suprise he returned but he told in interviews its a fun project while he looks for other interesting projects.

"Stalking Rileys social media again, Gary?", Rodolfo his colleague and best friend asks amused. Having a steaming mug with coffee in on and and an appel in the other. He places the appel on Roaches desk. Roach shakes his head, he is in fact working, staring at the grafic hes making for the past 20 minutes, trying to figure out how to make it that dont causes him to have remake it again in something way worse then what he has.

"As if you dont do the same with Alejandro Vargas", Roach retorts amused, trying to think like the higher-ups, how a social media of a sports team should look like. He knows how to run a successful account, has even a degree in it, but the higer-ups have very diffrent views. So everything has to be done 3 times till they found a compromise, so they are always 3 weeks behind trends, having to prove a trendy audio will give them engagement. God if he finds the person that put such a short leach on the marketing team, he will murder them. They work for a very old and traditional Cricket Club, emphasis on old some of the higher ups probaly where alive when the club was founded.

"Do you rember the teribel joke Mr. Henderson told last week? I need it for a post, asking people to share their own bad jokes for engagement bait." Rudy gives him do you really want to do this look. Nobody laughed about that joke, not even the old men at the top.

"Honestly my brain has a filter for his jokes so no." Roach groans dramatically, throwing his hands in the air, mumbling a I can't work like that. Bitting in the appel in frustration. Now he has to ask the man what will lead to him needing 20 minutes explaining how engagement on social media works and why it's so important. Already hearin Hendersons back in my day peopel listened over radio an we needed no silly dances on the internet, back in his day the steam maschie wasn't invented yet. Taking another bite from the appel, not liking its taste, the free fruits had better quality ones.

"Just tell him it's so good he needs to share is with the fans." Roach gives him a sceptical look, because that won't work right? It can't be that easy. Roach is ready to leave the office, when Rudy is winking him over. Rudy is curently frowning over an e-mail he got. He start reading it crossing his arms in front of his chest a cooperaton with another firm. Rudy is scrolling down to read the rest of the mail. Roach is resting his read on the back rest if Rudys chair looking over his right shoulder. Flying over the opening to were the mouse pointer is.

As i mentioned above I work at a for hire PR-Firm and are mainly know for work at Galas, Award cerominies and other red carpet events, but recently get the chance to work in other areas. We will mangaging the official Tiktok and Instagram for the hit TV show "The New Sherlock Holmes" for the up comming season and for the entiere UK and rest of Europe tour for a K-pop band. We would really love to work with your Tiktok and Instagram team to learn how they are making the short videos. We offer helping your Team for big gala events of the Club to get better resultes.

with warm regards

Valeria Graza

"Did she ask us for help and then insulted or work?", Roach is asking frowning. Finishing up the fruit.

"She sure did", Rudy say while forwarding the E-mail to their boss Kate Laswell, in the end its her choice and not theirs. Roach signs there is no more time to stall to get this stupid joke from Mr. Henderson.

"Better get the joke." He says before leaving the office to go to the elevators.

"Dont get stucked in the 1850s, while you there", Rudy is shouting after him. Rudy reads over the mail again, his eyes falling on to the name of the TV show, the chance for Roach to meet his celebrity crush, sometimes live is unfair.

[vodika-vibes]

Congratulations on the 500 followers hun! Can I please get a Ruby with one of the clone trooper assassins who accidentally falls in love with the female reader who was kind to him and flirted with him while he was disguised as a regular clone to scope out 79's for his first mission, (maybe he hasn't officially killed anyone yet, up to you!) but he ends up totally blindsided by her, they end up having a couple of drinks, dancing together, getting hot and heavy, groping, making out on the dancefloor before moving to either a dark corner of the bar or the alley behind the bar where they fuck, it's amazing and he's absolutely as smitten for her as she is for him and basically ends up defecting from the Empire for her and using his assassin skills so they can escape offworld together? I totally understand if this character is too obscure to write for; I've just been re-watching tbb and these gorgeously dangerous guys have got me feeling some kind of way.😩 Thank you either way. 💖

Worth It

Summary: While at a club with your best friend, you meet a man who changes everything.

Pairing: Clone Assassin x F!Reader

Word Count: 899

Warnings: Smutty, though it's not detailed

Prompt: Ruby - Passionate Love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Okay, so. I've never watched TBB, so my knowledge on the Clone Assassins is non-existent. Anyway, I dealt with the difficulties of this by only referring to him as he, and by writing in the reader's pov. I hope this is close to what you wanted!

“Why?” You drape yourself across the table as you stare, balefully, at your best friend. “It’s soooo hot. Why are we at a club? With the more hot? And all of the people with all of their breathing, making it hotter?”

Your friend props her hands on your shoulders and you grimace when her skin sticks to yours uncomfortably, “Because. You need to get laid.”

“Stop touching me. I think I’m melting into goo.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“You’re dramatic.” You snip back, sitting back up and grimacing again at the leather of the booth you’re sitting it sticks to your skin as well, “This is awful-”

“I swear to,” She rolls her eyes and then twists, and you can hear the sound of the leather pulling away from her skin, “Um…oh! Go dance with him!”

You tilt your head away from the ceiling to look at her, “Him? Him who?”

“Him!” She gestures to a man standing near the wall, nursing, what looks like, a glass of ice water. “Tall, dark, and broody over there.”

You consider it for about 5 seconds, and then tilt your head back, “Hard pass. I’m going to stay here and melt into a puddle of miserable goo. Thanks though.”

She rolls her eyes loudly, and stands. She tugs you out of the booth and drags you through the throng of people, and then shoves you at the aforementioned man.

He looks slightly startled to have you shoved at him, but not half as startled as you are to be shoved in the first place. “Here, she’s your problem now.”

Now that you’re closer to him, you have to admit that your friend has good taste in potential partners for you. The man is gorgeous. With dark eyes and dark skin and, frankly, incredibly kissable lips. 

“Uh…hi?” You greet sheepishly, one of his hands is settled comfortably at the bare skin of your waist, and while it’s still miserably hot, you find that you don’t mind his touch. 

“Hi.” He replies as he sets his glass down on the table next to him, there’s a small smirk playing on his lips, “So, you’re my problem now?”

You shrug one shoulder, a teasing smile playing on your lips, “Most men like the kind of problems I bring.”

“Is that right?” He hasn’t taken his gaze off your face, “Let’s put that to the test shall we?” He nudges you towards the dance floor, and you know that if you took your gaze off of him for a moment, your friend would be so smug, but you don’t want to look away from him.

He’s…mesmerizing.

He tugs you close, one hand settling low against the small of your back, while his free hand wanders up your side and across your upper back and into your hair, before sliding back down. 

Normally, you hate dancing in clubs. Your dance partners have, in the past, been very bad about letting other men rub up against you. But that doesn’t happen with him, he seems to have a sixth sense about when people are getting too close to you.

It’s nice, having only him touching you.

And it’s either that, or the way that he’s looking at you, or the pleasant buzz from the fruity drink you finished earlier, or maybe the heat of the night-

But you can’t help from raising up on your toes and pressing your lips against his.

He kisses you back like his life depends on it, and his hands burn a path up your sides, across the swell of your breasts, and then back down to tightly grip your ass. His hands are everywhere, and you can’t help but release a needy groan against his lips and grinding against him.

For a moment, just a moment, he falters against you, but before you can ask if something is wrong, he’s ushering you out of the club and into the, slightly less, stuffy heat of the night.

He pins you against the wall just down a darkened alley, his lips never once leaving yours, his tongue sliding against your own. And when his hands slide under your top, calloused fingers caressing and tracing, your head falls back and you release a moan.

“I need you,” He gasps against your throat, “Can I have you? Please?”

You laugh breathlessly and slide your fingers up his neck and into his hair, “I wouldn’t have let you bring me out here otherwise.”

He groans against your throat, and his deft hands start tugging at your shorts, unfastening the button and sliding them just far enough down your legs that he’s able to slide his fingers against your slit. 

Your hands curl into fists in his hair, and you release a shuddering groan, and his fingers pause, his dark gaze locked on your face.

“W-why are you stopping?” You whine, trying to arch against him.

He leans in so that his lips are pressed against your ear, “I’m defecting from the empire.” You freeze, your hands tightening in his hair, “Come with me.”

It’s a plea. Or a bargain. 

And you bury your face in his neck as his fingers start moving again. You have friends here. Family. A good job.

But-

Heh. And that ‘but’ is really the big thing, isn’t it?

He pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm, and your arms tighten around him, “Okay.”

[gaysindistress]

Sad girl - eighteen

summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, angst, guns, violence, Walker has decided that he wants to be Joe Goldberg

word count: 2.2k

a/n: there are some POV shifts in this part but I tried to make it obvious with dividers so it wasn’t too confusing. Anyways, there’s one part left!

part 17 | series masterlist

Taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman @goldensunflowe-r   @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @iateall-yourcookies  @littlelizardlizzie @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @reader-without-a-story @unaxv @wh0reforbucknasty @cjand10  @vickie5446 @katymae12344 @openup-yourmind @callsign-athena

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

The Stark Estate is always the looming house on the hill as the SUV approaches the large iron gates. The brick mansion is mostly covered in vines and plants, much to Pepper’s dismay. Anthony thought it gave the 20s-built house character and a homey feel so the vines were left along with the ridiculous amount of landscaping that lined the driveway. Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the blatant display of wealth as the SUV rolls down the driveway to the main house. Scott is the one to meet the men, standing with his arms crossed in front of him. The SUV slows to a stop beside him and Bucky gets out of the driver’s seat. 

“The others in position,” Scott asks him as Bucky adjusts his black jean jacket to conceal his holster and gun better. 

“Yep, yours?”

Scott nods while the two walk into the house. While Pepper may not have any say about the outside, she took full advantage of changing every little detail inside to fit her taste. White and marble covered every inch of the 20,000 square foot home, a stark difference from the industrial and wood feel of Bucky’s house. It reeked of cold indifference as they walked up the same stairs Doll nearly cracked with anger that day. Scott pushes open the heavy doors, letting the other man enter the room first. 

As usual, Anthony is seated at his desk however without his normal crowd of men in black. Thor and Loki are reclining on the couches, guns completely on display due to their relaxed posture. A younger man, who he assumes is the new recruit Peter Parker is standing off to the side of Anthony. 

“You brought a kid?” Bucky tries to hide the disgust in their voice when he sits in the same chair he had during that meeting. 

“He’s not a kid and you didn’t bother to dress for the occasion,” Anthony, however, doesn’t even bother to cover his disapproval at Bucky’s outfit. 

Leveling a blank stare at the other man, he speaks again “We’re not here to do business.”

Anthony rolls his eyes dramatically, making a show of it as he gestures to Scott to come over. He says something about the ETA of John to which Scott tells him he’s at the gates before leaving the room. 

“What’s the status of your team?” He turns to his son-in-law. 

“Waiting for my cue.”

“Good good. How about my daughter?”

“Safe.”

“Wow, I forgot how quiet you are,”  he widens his eyes in annoyance, “Anyways when John gets here, I don’t want you to speak. Let me handle it and if I need you to step in, I’ll let you know.”

“Fine by me,” a hardened expression takes on his face as he rests his hands together in between his spread legs. 

John’s voice echoes up the marble staircase as Bucky’s phone rings. 

“Buck we have a problem.”

Nat had promised Doll that his meeting would only last a couple of hours and that it was just a business meeting. 

“I swear it’s just a meeting that’s all.”

“He took his gun,” Doll is trying not to panic, however with his injury and their developing closeness, it’s getting harder and harder to stop it. 

“He takes it everywhere.”

“But this is different, I can feel it. He didn’t tell me where he was going and he always tells me.”

Nat takes her by the shoulders and stops her pacing, “Do you really want to know?”

She pushes the other woman’s hands off of her, “Obviously.”

“If I tell you, will you promise to stay here until he gets back?” she demands as she sits down on the living room couch. 

Doll takes a seat as well while nodding her head. 

“He set up a meeting with John at your dad’s house to get him to cut his bullshit and to get your mom. Steve and Sam are headed in to get her as we speak.”

“Natasha what the fuck?” she jumps off the couch, yelling at Nat, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew this is how you were going to react. Now sit your ass back down. They’re going to be back in like an hour.”

Doll’s phone goes off, the ringtone specifically set for Morgan and she answers it in confusion, “Hey Mo Mo, what’s up?”

“Sissy help! He’s hurting everyone,” Morgan’s small voice is full of terror as she whispers into the phone. 

“Mo Mo what’s going on?”

“John, he's hurting everyone. Sissy, please help!”

She looks at Nat with frightened eyes, “Where are you? Are you hiding?”

“I’m hiding in Daddy’s closet,” she cries into the phone. 

She gestures to Nat to stand up as she holds the phone between her head and shoulder, “Okay Mo Mo, stay there and don’t make a sound okay? Do not open the door unless it’s Daddy, Mommy, or Scott. I’m coming.” 

Hastily shoving her feet into her torn vans, she throws a pair of keys to Nat and points to the door, “Start the car and call Bucky. Shit is going down.”

“Buck we have a problem.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“She’s not here.”

“What do you mean she’s not there?” 

Sam shutters from the other line, “The woman we saw isn’t her. She says she’s a housekeeper and that Walker forced her to dress up as Marianne and stay in her room until he came and got her.”

“Fuck, get out and get over here,” Bucky hangs up the phone as John bursts into the room dragging the woman in question beside him. Blood is dripping from her eyebrow and her lip no doubt from where he hit her. Bruises are starting to form on her face and arms as she drops to the floor when John lets go of her arm. Thor and Loki jump to their feet, guns drawn and pointed at the man. 

“Gentlemen! What a lovely fucking surprise,” he exclaims, holding Marianne by the hair, “Imagine my surprise when Scott here told me that I was being set up and I found your two buddies lurking around my house.”

Anthony stands but the sudden movement is not welcomed by the furious man and he pulls his own gun on the woman beside him.  

“Sit down or I’ll shoot sweet Marianne,” the threat causes her to start crying and begging for her life as she claws at the hand holding her hair, “Shut the fuck up.”

Anthony does as he’s told and sits down. Bucky’s chest rises and falls at a steady pace, the soldier and mercenary in him remaining calm even when the room is up in arms. He rubs his eyebrow in mild annoyance that the meeting went south so quickly. He expected that this would happen, just not so quickly. Scott, on the other hand, is frozen by the door after being caught double-crossing his boss. 

“Thor and Loki sit,” John demands of the two brothers. 

Thor glances back to Anthony who gives him a nod and a dismissive wave. A shot rings out and is followed by a thud. Bucky glances over his shoulder to see that Scott is the one hit. Footsteps and shuffling are heard from behind him as the two brothers collect the body and take it out of the room. Looking forward again, he can see the disgusted and sickened face of Peter who hasn’t moved an inch since this whole thing started. 

“Peter, go find my wife and daughter,” Anthony directs the young man. 

He doesn’t move at first but Anthony saying his name sharply snaps him back to reality as he rushes out of the room to find the two other Stark family members. Marianne cries out again as John rips her up to her feet and forces her to sit in the chair next to Bucky. 

“Care to explain what the real reason for this meeting was?” John sneers at the two men, eyes rapidly shifting between them. 

Taking a deep breath and shifting his feet slightly so they’re more solid on the ground, Bucky speaks, “It was to ask you to leave my wife and her mom alone however objectives have changed.”

“Enough with the cryptic nonsense, start talking,” he shoves the gun into the woman’s hair, releasing another cry for help. 

“Let her go and we can.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to ask again,” Bucky rolls his shoulders and shifts to the edge of his chair. 

“Then don’t,” he moves his attention to Anthony, “And you. I can’t believe you would help him with all of this. I had to go through Scott to find all of this out.”

Anthony licks his lips, “He is married to my daughter so I felt obligated to help.”

John lets out a downright evil laugh, “Obligated? You felt obligated? That’s fucking hilarious. I think you wanted to cut me out of the deal and saw your opportunity.”

“So what?” the older man shrugs his shoulders at the accusation. 

“If you felt so obligated to help your family then you would try and stop me if I shot Marianne?”

“No, she’s not my family.”

“You’re not going to shoot her. You are going to let her go though,” Bucky clears his throat and aims his stare at John. 

The constant demands are starting to wear down his resolve and his finger grows restless on the trigger. Taking out all three of them right now would solve all of his problems. Taking out all three would bring back his sweetheart and he could have her all to himself. The decision is made for him when three shots crack out and three loud thuds hit the floor. 

“Fuck, get out and get over here.”

Sam curses under his breath as he pockets his phone and waves Steve over from his search of the bedroom. 

“Buck said to head to the Stark estate. John took her with him.”

“Shit,” Steve curses before turning to the housekeeper, “Go home, pack your stuff, and get out of here.”

She nods quickly while crying and takes off out of the room. The two men reupholster their guns and leave the room. They swiftly exit the house and climb into their SUV, speeding off to the Stark Estate. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Sam tells the man to his side as he races through the city streets. 

“Me too. Did he say anything else?”

“Not just that we needed to get over there. Do we have a first aid kit?”

Steve reaches behind the driver’s seat and pulls a backpack to the front. Opening it, he digs through it until he finds the kit.

“I hope you’re wrong,” he says, shoving the kit back in and putting it at his feet. He pulls his gun out and checks his clip before checking the rest of the clips attached to his tactile vest. 

“Me too, man, me too.”

Nat refused to let Doll drive, insisting that she could get them there faster and in one piece. Morgan had hung up the phone before they left in fear that John would hear her voice and find her. She promised to answer when her sister got there and called her to get her out. The phone rings over the car’s speakers and she smashes the answer button when she sees that it’s Sam calling. 

“Nat get her out of New York. We’re here and shit isn’t looking good.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Doll says with an eerily calm voice. 

“Shit, where is Nat?”

“Here.” “Please tell me you’re not on your way here,” the stress of the situation is draining his energy. 

“Morgan called me crying that John was hurting people. She’s hiding in our parent’s closet. Do you know where their room is?” 

“Do not go in until we can meet you. Nat, make sure she stays put until we have eyes on you and Bucky,” Steve’s voice is harsh and authoritative as he takes over the call, “Doll I need you to answer me.” 

“Yes I won’t go in until I see you or Sam,” she begrudgingly answers, slouching into the car seat. 

“Good see you guys in a few,” he hangs up the phone. 

“Do you have an extra gun?” She asks, opening the glove compartment and riffling through it. 

“No close that,” Nat slams it shut, “you’re not going in.”

[danikamariewrites]

omg. i really love your manon fics they’re literally soo gooodddd😭🤍🤍🤍

could i please request one where manon is mated to a sensitive reader, she’s quiet and like hyperfeminine. When they first met reader was getting hit on by some drunk men who dragged her outside and manon saw this and saved her. Ever since then she has been protected her and the bond snaps for them🥺🥺🥺 protective manon😍😍😍 literally someone jokes with her too much or says something mean and she gets tears in her eyes. relatable 🙃

More Pink

Manon x reader

A/n: thank you anon! I love the sunshine/dark and grumpy trope especially with manon. She would only have eyes for you

Warnings:

You think back to the night the mating bond snapped for you and Manon often. You were out with some friends in Rifthold at your favorite tavern having a fun girls night when some men started paying you too much attention. As you left the tavern two of the men followed you out.

They started throwing lewd comments at you and pulled at your hair and dress, ripping the sleeve. You started to tear up that they wouldn’t leave you alone, no matter how many times you asked them to stop.

But then she was there. Her iron nails gleaming in the moonlight. That snow white hair lightly blowing in the breeze. She looked like an angel to you. And that’s when you felt it, that pull in your ribs toward Manon. You felt the need to be by her side.

The males stumbled over themselves to run as far away from the Witch Queen’s wrath. As she approached you, you didn’t back away from her. Her demeanor became soft as she asked if you were ok. From that moment on the two of you were inseparable.

Now, you live with you mate in the Witch Castle. And she gives you every and anything you could ever want. It’s only been a few months, your bond still new and vibrant. But you’re so in love with each other it’s already felt like you’ve spent a life time together.

As your memories come to an end you let out a content sigh, finishing tying your hair half-up adding a ribbon. Looking in the mirror you see Manon enter the bedroom and you smile. Getting up from the vanity you rush across the room and wrap your arms around her.

Manon pulls you into a loving embrace and coos, “Hello, beautiful. How are you today?” She kisses the crown of your head. “Better now that I’m seeing you.” You giggle at her. She pulls out of your grasp, pleading her hands softly on your shoulders.

“Are you ready for lunch?” You nod. Grasping your mates hand you stand on your tiptoes and kiss her cheek. You pull Manon towards the door and she follows you blindly.

As you walk down to the dining room it’s her turn to be lost in her thoughts about you. You are the complete opposite from her. You’re bright, colorful, and so in touch with your emotions it amazes her. Manon likes that you’re honest with her or can come to her with something that’s bothering you.

In the dining room Manon pushes your chair in for you and kisses your head before sitting next to you. As lunch was being brought to the table you told Manon about your day so far. You played with her fingers as she gave you all of her attention, looking at you with all the love in the world in her burnt gold eyes.

Manon’s love sick moment was interrupted by her second and third entering the room. “My Queen,” Asterin exaggerates, bowing dramatically. Sorrel rolled her eyes and elbowed the blonde. The witches sat across from you as you greeted and smiled at them.

“Y/n, more pink today I see.” You knew Asterin was just playfully teasing you but something in her tone felt like a jab at you. You know your taste in clothing was different from Manon. She loved that about you. But did you wear too much pink? Which made you think you were too much, something you’re insecure about from a past relationship.

Manon noticed your head drop a little and you start playing with your food. She felt your mood change instantly. That was something new she had to get used to with the bond. Manon felt everything you felt whether you meant for her to or not. Feeling your feelings helped her get comfortable with her own.

When your mood didn’t improve Manon decided to come at the problem head on. Just like you taught her. “Ok, what’s wrong? I can feel you.” You look at her, giving her your best convincing smile, “I’m ok.” Manon raised a sharp white eyebrow at you telling you she knew that was a lie. You sigh dropping your fork on your plate.

“Am I too much?” You hadn’t asked Manon that before. She went still at the question, confused as to why you’d think that. You are the light of her life why would you ever be too much? Who would ever make you think that? “Not at all my love.” She said softly, holding your chin in her pale slender hand. “You’re perfect.”

You tried to give Manon another smile but your eyes were watering. Manon reached over to hug you and pulled you into her lap. And then she felt you project the moment that changed your mood down the bond. Her eyes narrowed across the table at Asterin. She practically growled at her cousin for making you upset.

“Asterin,” Manon growled, “apologize. Now.” Asterin did feel bad for making you upset. She was just playing around with you. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean anything, I swear it.” You looked at her and wiped your eyes. “It’s ok Asterin. I know you were.”

Manon turned your face with her fingers. “There’s my beautiful girl. And her pretty smile.” You nuzzled your nose against hers and she gave you a quick kiss on your lips. “You know what I think?” You tilt your head and whisper, “What?” Your mate smiles at you wrapping her arms around you tighter. “I think we should go get you more pink things. Anything you want.”

All your worries faded as you shrieked with excitement. “I’d like that a lot.” Wrapping your arms around her neck you kiss at Manon’s neck before slipping off her lap back to your seat. Today was going to be a good day.

[sitp-recs]

Hello Liv, I’m looking for a fic with « a falling in love while the world around us is ending » vibe. Finding love in a midst of a war or a tragedy. when everything around is collapsing, when we don’t know how much time is left so every second is lived fiercely and intensely.

A bit of a tragic lovers vibes (but with ultimately a happy ending).

Do you think you could help?

Ohhh I love this ask so much! I definitely have some nice recs for you, and would love to read more doomed lovers, it’s one of my favourite tropes. Please note that some most of these have open/unhappy ending. Enjoy!

Without Sunshine by @sweet-s0rr0w (T, 1k) - open ending

The fall of the Wizarding World begins on a Tuesday morning. As Draco says, the timing's dreadful.

if the world was ending by saltwatergarden (M, 4k)

The world is ending again, but it's far less dramatic this time. Harry Potter tries to save the day. Draco wishes he wouldn't.

Between Two Fires of Beltane by secretsalex (E, 5k)

As the war drags on, Draco becomes a spy for Voldemort and works his way into Harry’s good graces—and his bed. When the Order prepares to invade Malfoy Manor, Draco is forced to examine his loyalties.

A Cold Spot in Hell by @drarrytrash (E, 8k)

When there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire. If you wanted 8k of sexy arson, emotionally difficult arson, general arson, handkerchiefs, dread, and poetry curation, now is really your moment.

The Taste of Magic by @romaine2424 (M, 10k)

As the world's atmosphere changes, magic starts to disappear. Only a "lucky" few will stay in the magical world until the earth begins to heal.

And Save Me From Bloody Men by @blamebrampton (T, 10k) - open ending

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching.

The Eighth Tale by lettered (E, 12k) - Cw: mcd

Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon by @the-starryknight (M, 17k)

The Ministry didn’t turn bad overnight. Harry didn’t suddenly turn rogue either. Between covert Legilimency links and Polyjuice disguises and running and running and running, Draco has forgotten what it is like to have a safe harbor that isn’t a person. If there’s an art to fighting back, then they’ll find it hand in hand.

All the Ashes Like Leaves by @firethesound (M, 21k)

Nothing about being the Chosen One had prepared Harry for this. With most of the population blinded and man-eating plants running amok, he can only stay close to his friends as they make their way to safety. Not that he’d call Malfoy a friend, but the end of the world does rather make their ongoing feud seem trivial. And it just figures that it took nothing short of an apocalypse to make Malfoy seem like less of a git.

We Are Legend by @vaysh11 (E, 38k) - cw: mcd

Eighty years into the future, Voldemort won. Harry Potter is a renegade wizard, Portkeying Muggles out of London to Hogwarts, last sanctuary in a Britain ruled by the Dark Lord. On a mission he encounters a powerful phoenix Animagus fighting on the Death Eaters' side.

REVOLVEVLOVER by @firethesound and @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 46k) - open ending

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for.

The Compact by astolat (E, 64k)

Hermione frowned. “The real question is why the magic of Britain would be failing now, in fact.” “That is not the real question!” Ron said loudly; he’d woken up fully by now, and Harry had too; it was starting to sink in that they’d found the problem. “The real question is, how do we fix it?”

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Bonus: I don’t usually read WIPs but this one is my all-time favorite and it fits the ask perfectly!

In The Dark by @bixgirl1 (E, WIP)

In the aftermath of an apocalypse, Harry receives an order to find and bring Draco Malfoy nearly a thousand miles, to the tenuous safety of Hogwarts. But more than distance separates them from their goal. The world has fallen, and death is hungry.

[esorxy]

word of honor ep31 is something else entirely

they get intercepted on their rescue mission and just as the assassin people were about to rush forward and start stabbing, guess who appears spinning out of nowhere to save his beloved one true soulmate its wkx wearing hot red robes with sexy red eyeshadow, who boomerangs his little paper fan and slices their throats all in one go, does another little spin for dramatic flavour and slowly flutters down like an autumn leaf in the wind, successfully making the most replayed segment of the episode 🍃

and then everything he says from this moment on is like "fuck you, im better than you, eat shit" and DPJ is like "yeah ur cool and all but you're only one person" as if he didnt just kill half your men in one swipe while flying. anyway then zzs is like "who said hes alone" and steps out of his little carriage looking like hes about to die. like bro!! you cant even stand chill tf out. wkx comes over and holds his boyfriend and gets full on whiplash from switching too fast between (1) gazing lovingly at zzs and (2) murderous stares assassin gvng.

then like 3000 ghosts come out from the forest looking for a nice fight with 20 men, half of whom are dead, and the rest of them just dip like nope not today

they all kneel for our favourite gays and then wkx kneels as well and zzs, who still looks like hes abt to collapse and die, is like "fuck yeah im still influential" and awkwardly pats wkx's head like hes some overgrown puppy, which is not entirely inaccurate ykwim

so our power couple gets like 20 more kids for the price of none, and head back to god knows where to meet 😱 some more gays😱 one of them is a healer and the other looks like asian robert sean leonard so... whats new 😮‍💨

wkx finds some time to wipe off his eyeshadow and everyone is ready to die for zzs suddenly, and wkx goes from 🥺 "a-xu is gonna live??" to walking back into ghost valley in the blink of an eye without even changing clothes. scorpion king is also there 😱😱 i didnt even know they were working together cos i skipped all of the boring old people scenes. the twinks face off in some intense power play conversation where everyone wants to top, wkx has a mid life crisis in his pajamas featuring genocide and suicide but then hes like but SOMEONE taught me to live love laugh aka im in love, finishing off a killer episode that fully lives up to the drama part of chinese drama. my man needs to be locked up. in a mental hospital.

bonus: zzs in ep32, freshly injured from having metal hooks stabbed through his shoulders, is like "noooo little girl don't you know i need alcohol to live???" huge announcement everyone youve dedicated your lives to following an alcoholic 🤦

twink healer is like "bro u cant even taste shit" and james wilson is like "remember when u wanted me to find u a cute gf... but turns out... (ur gay)"

omg i wanted to stop, but like the dramatic clown ass scenes just keep coming what can a girl do 🤷

so zzs goes back to serving face (not that he ever really stopped) and he overhears that wkx is about to be forced off a cliff 😱. so flutters into this 50v1 fight with about 2% of the dramatic flair that wkx has, steps up to kiss him except they cant cos censorship, and is like "me n u against the world babe." 🤦

yby comes too cos this drama is tiresome and neverending, and wkx is like "im tired, kill me 🫠", which is so relatable, but then he puts up a damn good fight before falling off the cliff from one tiny needle through the heart. zzs also jumps after him and everyone is like 😱 even though they can literally fly.

but hes dead (not rly) so zzs burns his corpse by kicking a lamp at it and sits at the cliff to reminisce the good old times when he was a hobo and wkx followed him around like a clingy wife. he relapses into alcoholism and pulls all his nails out aaaand this is just romeo and juliet with gay and dramatic flair 😮‍💨

when do they stop serving face honestly like im fed up 🤦

[inhibited-irregularity]

Since the voting was truly abysmal and the real winner was robbed by the corrupt juries, might as well make a "they deserved better" list including both semis and the grand finale and considering both juries and the general public. So, in an attempt to be as objective as I can, here's my

☆♥︎THEY DESERVED BETTER♥︎☆

In no particular order:

🇩🇪 Germany, Lord of the lost - Blood and glitter: I admit that I wasn't a fan in the beginning, and even made a post about how I wish that the rock entries went harder and that LOTL should either commit to hardcore or be more silly with the song. I found the cheesy lyrics delivered in such a serious and dramatic manner cringey, BUT, after their performance last night, changed my mind completely. First of all, I ADORE the lead singer's vocals (and he seems like a cool guy), and the song itself has some seriously good moments, not to mention how freakin catchy it is. Their energy was through the roof, the performance was flawless, and in spite of my initial reaction to the song, I bought it and genuinely loved it. It felt like watching a concert by one of my favorite bands. Not my winner, but I was really disappointed with how low they scored.

🇪🇸 Spain, Blanca Paloma - Eaea: ROBBED. Over the years, the juries projected an image of people that look for all things *artistic* in a song (even though it usually translates as a pretentious kid in art college with no real taste picking the thing they think their 50yo profesor would approve of). Well, they be blind, since Blanca Paloma brought IT, and they failed to recognize. Outstanding vocals, stunning visuals, the power of the entire performance, and all the emotion and significance packed into a seemingly simple concept. It was more like a movie scene than a musical competition entry, she transported me into another dimension and unlocked something ancient and wonderful. All the people I've talked to had different favorites, but they all had strong, immensely positive reactions to Spain. I literally teared up and had a spiritual experience with Blanca Paloma's performance, and the energy she exuded was undeniably healing, freeing and over-all cathartic. While I knew that her chances of winning were slim and I didn't count on the public vote, she deserved SO MUCH MORE from both general public and the juries.

🇦🇹 Austria, Teya and Salena - Who the hell is Edgar: One of my favorites from the very beginning. A quality pop song with a bop-y rhythm and ingenious lyrics. Under the guise of random and silly, there's quite a few things implied - the obvious criticism of the music industry and the more subtle "people are readier to believe that a ghost of a famous writer possessed me than that a woman can write quality lyrics and have a sense of humor" (shout-out to generations of men claiming Kurt Cobain wrote Courtney Love's songs and lyrics, work on your reading comprehension) While that might be a personal observation, here's what absolutely stands. They're adorable, funny, had a fun choreography, a catchy song, the lyrics that are fun even if you don't analyze them, great personalities, solid performance, perfect delivery and the right amount of quality with a dash of random that matches Iceland's Dađy Freyr and that y'all claim to respect. Shame on the audience; the jury can't recognize talent anyway.

🇸🇮 Slovenia, Joker out - Carpe Diem: Not much left to say. Good song, good vibes, all the charisma in the world. They had Måneskin's synergy, they had a good time, the audience had a good time with them, and they were confident in a non-pretentious manner. Special mention for Bojan, the lead singer, who's shown such sportsmanship, was truly an example of a perfect esc. representative. The entire band seems very fun to hang out with, and while they're goofy, they seem very smart with how they manage to balance witty and respectful in interviews. Members aside, their music is refreshing and perfect for people that find mainstream pop repetitive but aren't into anything too heavy. Perfect for a summer music festival or a feel-good playlist.

🇵🇹 Portugal, Mimicat - Ai, coração: you know she's something special when her entire home country shows such support and excitement. I wasn't a fan at first when I saw the national performance, it seemed a bit out-dated and frankly a bit too weird for my taste, but she changed my mind as soon as she took the stage in the first semi. In my opinion, a Broadway-worthy performance, and such personality! Fun aunt vibes, and one of the coolest people this year. When I grow up, I wanna be her.

🇭🇷 Croatia, Let 3 - Mama, ŠČ: The juries are such cowards, honestly. I was familiar with some of the band's history and not everything they did was exactly my taste, but what else to expect from a band so unhinged. I had some misgivings, but they won me over quickly. The punkest thing Eurovison has seen in recent years. That's how you do anti-war, Switzerland. Satire on point. Weird, meaningful, fun, grotesque. How something like that didn't do better in Eurovision is beyond me. But leave it to the cowardly juries that left Italy's Ermal Meta and Fabrizio Moro with almost no points to do just that. I'm still butthurt.

🇷🇸 Serbia, Luke Black - Samo mi se spava: Listen, I was NOT a fan. All the homophobes aside, everyone in the country and their mom was gushing about how original and unique the song is, which can be annoying to someone who's as exposed to various aspects of pop culture as I am (humble,I know), and I still think his singing could be better. At first, he was a bit awkward and seemed pretentious during the national selection. However, the performance did stand out, he amped his energy and put such effort, and there's no denying the flawless staging and production and how well it suits him, and over time, he's proved to be a funny, likeable and down to earth guy (with flawless fashion sense). I'm proud of him and how he represented the country, and he definitely didn't deserve to be at the bottom of the list.

🇮🇸 Iceland, Diljá - Power: I'm OUTRAGED that it didn't qualify and can only call lesbophobia idk. I mean, Im not familiar with her sexuality, but if I've ever seen something that doesn't give a damn about the male gaze, this would be it. Still, it's beyond me how she didn't qualify. One of the best vocals this year, not to mention she sung FLAWLESSLY while running and jumping all over the stage with zero breaks. The track itself is meh to me, but should be something that Eurovision fans enjoy; that being said, the vocal and performance can make or break a song with such a track, and she ATE. Power indeed, I was blown away. Her being super-cute is just a bonus. She has my heart and my votes ♡ Too bad people didn't agree.

🇷🇴 Romania, Theodor Andrei - D.G.T: Ok, I can't shout that he deserved to qualify, I knew the chances were slim and the song had some ways to go, not to mention the hot mess of a national performance. However, he doesn't deserve ANY hate that he's getting, and in my opinion, he was the best male vocal this year. I'm in love with his voice and he doesn't lack charisma either. I loved the re-vamp with the acoustic guitar, but at the end of the day, the stage was a bit empty. I will add D. G. T. to my playlist though, and I wish him a wonderful career and a powerful return.

🇱🇻 Latvia, Sudden Lights - Aijā; Well, this one hurts. I know it wasn't a fan favorite, but I was rooting for it so much and still think it deserved to qualify over some *questionable* entries. While it was something straight out of my high-school playlist, I didn't find it derivative and it was warm, touching and comforting. And beautiful, goddammit. I get how it's not everyone's cup of tea, but come on.

🇵🇱 Poland, Jann - Gladiator: Was this a jumpscare? Lol. No need to write a huge paragraph, the entire world knows that he was robbed. I've never seen someone so charismatic and meant to be a performer, and I enjoyed both the song, the lyrics and the delivery, even though I immediately noticed a similarity with Judas by Lady Gaga. However, I feel obliged to say that he should work on his vocals and that y'all wouldn't be so mad if he didn't look the way he looks. Still, the true choice of Poland, and I have no doubt he would've done great in the final.

AND FINALLY .....

THE ONE TRUE WINNER

💚💚💚💚🇫🇮🇫🇮🇫🇮💚💚💚

Käärija (my beloved) - Cha Cha Cha:

Ok, he didn't lack the love or the appreciation. But the RIGGERY. The ROBBERY. THE AUDACITY.

First of all, the song is a banger. It mixes industrial rock, techno and eurodance perfectly, with flawless transitions, while managing to catch the ears of people that aren't into any of those genres. Great intro that pulls you in immediately, and the pacing done just right. Now onto Käärijä himself. He's a fucking star. A legend. It's impossible not to like him. Every video of him I've seen was so much fun. Performance wise, great energy, great delivery. The song manages to appeal so many people with staying unique and checking all the boxes. Want something for the angst? He got you. Want something upbeat? Cha cha cha motherfuckers. Want weird? "My name is Kääärijää", there's our green man. Want quality production? Boy from Vantaa's got it.

The only possible criticism I can see him receiving is something along the lines of "it's gimmicky", which is frankly a ridiculous thing to say about a Eurovision entry (insert the Maryl Streep from Devil Wears Prada meme) and if it were gimmicky, he wouldn't have become the only artist to ever have his name chanted by the entire audience while Sweden gets points, and I wouldn't have replayed it so many times since it came out without getting bored. Honestly, one of the rare songs that puts me in a good mood, cos it has that "starting from anger and angst and acknowledging bad feelings and THEN bringing you to upbeat and happy" thing going on. Eh. Fuck the jury.

This concludes my list. Special mentions.

Not my cup of tea, but deserved the praise - Norway, Italy, Australia, Armenia

Deserved more public votes, undeniable quality, but faded into the background compared to my other favs - France, Czechia

Not for me but I get it- Moldova, Estonia, Georgia

+ Acknowledging Malta for pulling that performance and getting everything possible out of a song that relies entirely on one catchy hook. Most improved entry since the nationals, good show, likeable group, fun staging.

[yes0another0outsiders0blog]

Damn, this next alphabet is kicking my ass and then I have so many more to do-- (I'm excited to do them, I love long form headcanons and overthinking things into essays and covering a lot in one post, they just take so long especially when my brain ain't working--)

Anyway, have the rest of my sexuality headcanons!!

The Outsiders Queer Headcanons : (Part 2)

Tim -

gay, 100% into men.

has dated/hooked up with women because he's "supposed to," but they always have to make the first move and he never really enjoys it.

pretty open about it. not really the type to bring it up unprompted, keeps his personal life personal, but if asked he sees no reason to hide it

what's anybody going to do about it, fight him? okay, he'll kick their ass. he ain't scared of what anyone thinks about what he does in his own free time. they're the ones that brought it up, they can mind their damn business.

Curly -

unlabeled, if asked he'd just shrug. he likes guys sometimes, he's pretty sure he's liked a girl or two before.

no thoughts, head empty. he has put zero thoughts into it.

maybe somewhere on the arospec, his romantic interests are really muted

still there, just not strong

for him, a partner is more of a MAJOR best friend that he happens to be physically attracted to as well

"wait, do any of the Shepherds like girls?" you ask

well, I just said that Curly likes girls sometimes... but let me introduce yall to

Angela -

pan and proud as FUCK

and has MASSIVE game, more than her brothers combined

poly as well, loves group dates and having partners that interact with each other especially

gets really into queer spaces/community, will actually seek out lgbt spaces and such

loves going to drag performances, she's loud and social and likes dramatic make up and costuming, she has a natural draw to drag queens.

Sylvia -

bisexual, prefers men, might go her whole life without even thinking of herself as anything but straight outside of modern au

like, in modern day after hearing about different sexualities then she might clock the feeling after realizing that being attracted to women is a thing

but her attraction to women feels different than her attraction to men, so she would probably just think "oh, we're REALLY good friends and I'd totally kiss her if she wanted to, but that's just how girls are right??"

it isn't even preference so much as it's intensity of attraction, has more small crushes on women and few bigger crushes on men

Evie -

aromantic, bisexual and slightly prefers men

not very romantically affectionate (is platonically affectionate), but is okay with having a partner that is. she just won't initiate or crave it, but she doesn't mind it. romance neutral in general.

does want to date still, loves a good qpr, will communicate with her partner about her lack of romantic attraction but doesn't feel the need to be open about it with others. she's in a relationship, it can be read as a romantic relationship, she isn't correcting anyone

Sandy -

straight

homophobic in an ignorant way

"no, I don't have a problem with the gays, I know some gays!!" girl, NO.

won't be intentionally mean, doesn't like when people are blatantly homophobic, but also won't put effort into changing herself and won't call out other's around her. might give an eyeroll and a "stop, be nice!!" at most.

thinks that since it doesn't actively affect her it isn't really her place or business

Cherry -

bicurious, but probably ultimately straight

is such a girls girl, very platonically affectionate, thinks girls are so pretty, so the thought of dating a girl has crossed her mind

also, she has ass taste in men and has definitely said "a woman would NOT treat me like this" but, boo, I have met women that would treat her like that and if she would just date a man that isn't garbage then she'd see that it's her standards that are the real problem

does try dating a few ladies, really isn't feeling it, feels really bad for leading them on and ends up staying longer than she should because she really loves them as friends and doesn't want to lose them

is the super pretty, casually flirty straight girl that 99% of sapphic people have unfortunately fallen hard for.

Marcia -

aromantic and asexual

has fallen into a lot of comphet, has absolutely dated a handful of men because her friends all were in relationship

slightly romance repulsed, thinks it's all just so boring

but is BOMB at coming up with pick-up lines and stuff, is witty as hell and will get flirty sometimes. she just doesn't want anything even slightly serious. it's a mental exercise, some friendly back and forth, nothing more. anything seriously romance-heavy gives her a major ick

sex-neutral, is interested in anatomy and artistic nudity (think figure drawing), she's not squeamish around the idea of sex and isn't even strictly against having it

just very... scientific about it. not very emotional, will work out theories or ideas in practice. likes to see what the human body can do, likes playing with dynamics, sees it all as research

doesn't really like the idea of a long-term relationship, likes her independence too much