#no way Sarah spoke English well

[lnsfawwi]

Here's a thought:

kid Steve speaks better Gaelic than English. their pastor sometimes takes care of Steve when Sarah is working and he'd teach Steve English but, as one can imagine, the accent is not good. Steve is also partially deaf, he doesn't always control his volume well, so he speaks broken, heavily accented English, and that isn't a winning combo for friendships on top of his firecracker personality.

enters Bucky, the popular kid who somehow decides that Steve is his best friend in the world.

Bucky's grandparents immigrated from England, his dad is Romanian Jew. Bucky is not a very devoted Catholic, and the family still celebrates major Jewish holidays. they even hold a mini bar mitzvah for Bucky's 13 birthday.

the point is, Bucky has a fairly neutral accent that gets more Brooklyn by the day, he is also some kind of a polyglot. he speaks also Yiddish, he learns Italian from the neighbors, and French at school.

Bucky never makes fun of Steve's accent or gets frustrated when Steve can't quite get the pronunciation right. they read together, literally. Bucky would have one of his favorite novels, and he'd read the words out loud for Steve, when it's Steve's turn, he listens and helps him when Steve struggles.

Bucky is also the one to suggest they create a sign language of their own. just simple daily vocabulary like 'food', 'movies', 'home'. they add 'punk/jerk' and 'sorry' to their vocabulary after a short while.

and the thing is, losing Bucky is more than just missing a person in his life, it's that the most basic act of talking - not even about him - just talking, in his own native language, is a constant reminder of this loss. they don't have only their own sign language. in a way, English is their language too. losing Bucky is losing the languages, the tool of communication and connecting with other people and the world around him.

[kadwrites]

different yet the same | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; nothing stays the same, but how can you explain that to the people you love?

warnings ; arranged marriage!trope, soft!tommy, reader has a voice kink? idk, typos probably, reader likes starting shit, REALLY slow burn.

a/n ; let me know what you think<3, also keep in mind that my first language is not english <3

-

you felt like you were overheating, his hand was barely even touching your lower back but you could definitely feel it. he led you back to the office, to grab his coat , where he finally stepped away from you.

"ya didn't 'ave to do that" you needed to cut the tension

"do what?" he was putting on his coat

"fire 'er."

he stopped in his place , looking back at you with a raised brow "you'd rather i keep 'er ?"

you really wouldn't "i mean...." you trail off, trying to find the right words

he steps closer, until he's right before you. a little too close maybe "what do ya mean?" his voice is soft and deep.

it really didn't help you , that his voice had that much of an affect on you. "would ya've fired 'er if she spoke this way to anyone else ?"

"like who?"

"i don't know, anyone else." you repeat your words

"but she didn't say that to anyone else" his gaze was so intense, it felt like you couldn't take your own eyes off his "she said it to you"

he then took a step past you before you spoke again "did ya do it because she offended me or was it because it might've hurt your reputation?"

he stops again and sighs when he closes his eyes , he turns "why are ya fightin' me on this?"

"i'm not!" you chuckle "i'm just wonderin'..."

"well stop wonderin' , we got shit to do. let's go" he motions with his hand and heads for the door, you huff and follow him.

but your questions don't stop there. once you're in the car , you're back at it and with more resilience.

"why 'aven't i met your family yet?" you're in the passenger seat, your arms crossed as he drives

"jesus fucking christ" he mumbles, a cigarette hanging from his mouth "what's gotten into ya today , eh?" he glances at you

"what? i'm just trying to make conversation" you try to sound as innocent as you can.

"ya've met polly, 'ave't ya?" he takes a drag of his cigarette, smoke blowing in the air "there ya go, she's family."

"polly doesn't count , i knew 'er as a child. before i knew ya."

"she's my aunt , how does she not count?" his brows furrow and he laughs

"ya've brothers, and a sister, and sisters in law." you're not giving up, "ya've met my family already , why don't ya want me to meet yours?"

"i barely did" he looks at you , then back at the road "they don't exactly like my company now , do they?"

"they're shy!"

he looks at you with a half smile, as if asking you if you're serious "really?"

"come on tommy, i'm serious. how am i going to marry into a family that i don't know?"

"you're not marrying my family are ya? you're marrying me"

"tommy" you click your tongue

"why do ya want to meet them so badly?"

"i just..... i've always wanted to be close to my husband's family when i'd get married."

he sighs , looking back at the road "it'll take time for them to warm up to ya and they're hardly as polite as your lovely family is" he mumbles with a sarcastic tone

"probably" you nod "but i do want to meet them"

"fine, don't say i 'aven't warned ya." he sighs again, "i'll see what i can do"

"mum says that thomas shelby proposed to ya" sarah and amy are in your room, they're celest's daughters.

"mhm" you're still in bed and they're beside you. your sister's children are rascals, just like their mom they, don't knock when they come in, they lay in your bed with you and wake you up whenever they're bored. you're eyes are still closed when you mumble, not that it would stop them from pestering you. you try to hang on to any crumb of sleep you can get.

"can we see the ring?" amy asks , you can hear the smile in her voice.

you raise your hand, wiggling your ring finger. at her.

you tried to keep this whole thing from them, to not let them know what really happened. they're smarter than you think though. after all , sarah is already 14 and amy is 13. they already have an idea, they just never wanted to bring it up.

"oh my god..." amy's voice is filled with excitement and a little bit of disbelief "is this a real diamond?"

"of course it fucking is." you grumble. you turn, so you're laying on your side but facing them now

"are ya happy?" sarah pulls the covers, getting under them next to you

"why wouldn't i be ?" you chuckle sleepily "i'm gonna be fucking rich" you wiggle your brows

they both chuckle with you, but they are still looking at you with a type of look, and you know what it meant.

"mum says that his house is far , that we wouldn't see ya as often." amy mumbles

"your mum is dramatic. of course ya will." you reassured them, but the thing is you didn't even know how life would be after your wedding. "ya're not getting rid of me that easy."

"are ya nervous?"

"a little bit yeah" you shrugs "but it's normal, your mum was nervous too ya know? she'd cry every time she saw me." you say with a snort "and look at 'er, she still comes over every other day."

"but that's different isn't it?" amy dares to ask

"what is different?" you ask softly

"everything is going to be different" she mutters and you can feel your heart crack at that "this wedding is different, you're marrying ... 'im, and moving away, and it'll be different." her voice cracks, and she looks away

"nothing is going to be different amy..." you get up, and scoot next to them "but even if things change i'll still be me, ya'll still 'ave me"

sarah leans her head on your shoulder "i'll miss ya"

you look at her then at amy, "aww , hey now" you hug her, laughing as you kiss her head "i'm not going anywhere," you speak into her hair

-

taglist ; @tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator, @theshelbyslimited , @illuminwtesz , @goldensunflowe-r , @gruffle1 , @warrior-of-justice , @mgdixon , @babayaga67 , @goblinjnr , @justaproudslytherpuff , @budugu , @twlegit , @amberpanda99 , @aesthetic0cherryblossom , @capswife , @lets-turn-and-burn , @affabletimelady , @edencherries , @globetrotter28 , @eg-dr3amer3 , @sadroses98 , @aliceindrugland

[sgiandubh]

Pants on fire

Y'all pretty much stopped -actively- following Sarah H, right?

Well, let's see what she did post last Monday:

For our distinguished Spanish Mafia representatives, here is the gist of it:

During an anonymous Q&A session on Insta, she was asked if she would allow the person she currently dates meet her son. Question was formulated as a possibility only, by the way.

Her answer was crystal clear, despite her terrible, terrible English grammar, and I am going to translate it in Spanish, for once:

'Gracias. Hace 5 años, me separé del padre de K y nunca le he presentado a Kayson a nadie con quien haya salido en estos últimos 5 años. Solo lo haría si estuviera segura de que estaré con este hombre para siempre. No estoy de acuerdo con personas entrando y saliendo de su vida, esto no es justo. Enrollarse resulta más difícil, ya que K está conmigo la mayor parte del tiempo, pero está bien.'

This goes to show two important, yet predictable things:

a) the Traditional Troll lied through her teeth. She always does. People never learn, just because obsession blurs all the damn lines between what is reasonable speculation and what is dingbat lying.

b) the other Sad Mythomaniac insinuating she spoke to Steve the Climber, who allegedly confirmed S was spotted in that GLA park with K was well... just a sad (and desperate) mythomaniac:

I am sorry, pumpkins. Park Anon was correct. I did not invent it, no matter how hard you'd pretend. You should also know by now I never send Anons. I also happen to think both of these cheap pretexts spoil the fandom experience entirely, something I have no wish to do. For me or anyone else - and yes, that includes Mordor, too. When I say something, I sign and own it loud and clear. And I take no prisoners.

Thank you for the tip - you know who you are and you always, always deliver 😘💖.

I am back, biatches 🤣🤣🤣.

[Later edit]: updated for exact reference of Sad Mythomaniac (not the only one). And pumpkin, don't fret: I am Romanian. Also, what about Frosty the Snowman @ Cawdermill and those sets of two different handprints, huh? #Hogmanay

[iamasimperyk]

Lonely (Part 2) -Rafe Cameron

Warnings: Psychopath!Rafe, Dark!Rafe, Angst, Fluff, Crying, Possessive Behaviour, Not proof-read, English is not my first language

Summary: Since you are dating Rafe now he became possessive, but you didn‘t notice. All you care about are your friends.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Part 1

After your friends caught you with Rafe at the beach, you haven’t heard from them. You were aware of the fact that they hated Rafe, because of everything they went through.

They couldn’t understand what you possibly saw in him. Why would you be so close to someone as cruel as Rafe Cameron?

“Thinking about your ‘friends’ again?” Rafe asked, sitting down next to you on his bed.

You let out a sigh, "They are my friends, Rafe. They're just shocked we were so close."

“Well, thanks to them we are now even closer.” He gave you one of his cocky smirks.

“I just hope one day they accept us together and everything goes back to normal.” You mumbled, fiddling with your finger.

“Who needs them anyway, I am the only one you need.” He kissed your temple.

Ever since you two started dating a few weeks ago, Rafe had been possesive of you. He wanted you next to him all the time and always got a little upset when you started to talk about the Pogues. You never noticed though, for you he was just caring and sweet.

“I have something for you,” Rafe told you, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand.

“You know that I hate it when you spend money on me. I like you for you, not the fancy gifts.” You shook your head a little.

He took out the small box and handed it to you, “And you know that I don’t care what you say about me giving you gifts.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips. You knew that Rafe would never stop buying you expansive stuff.

After you opened the box your eyes widen a little. Inside was a beautiful golden bracelet, with a charm. A charm with the letter ‘R’.

“It’s so pretty. Thank your, Rafe.” You gave him a quick kiss before you held it out for him to but it on your wrist.

“You look so pretty with my first letter on you.” He mumbled.

At his statement you laughed a little, you thought it was funny, but in reality it was the psychopath inside of him who was speaking.

————

“I will be back in a few hours. You will survive, Rafe.” You giggled as he held you tight to his chest.

You told him you wanted to go to the cut to buy some stuff. Stuff you could only get there.

“Let me come with you, princess.” He mumbled into your hair, but you shook your head, “You have an important call in a few minutes.”

“I can just cancel it and then we-“ Rafe started but you were quick to interrupt him, “You talk about this call since last week. I know how important it is for you.”

He knew you were right, but how could he let his precious girl go alone to the cut.

His thoughts were interrupted when his phone rang, “I will see you in a bit. Good luck with the deal.”

You kissed him goodbye and quickly left, not giving him a chance to say anything back.

What Rafe didn’t know, you wanted to talk to your friends on the cut.

————

“Please just let me explain it.” You begged, tears running down your cheeks.

“Explain what? That you betrayed us and are now fucking with the enemy?” JJ hissed, taking a swing of his beer.

You quickly shook your head, “It was never my intention to start a thing with Rafe. Every one of you started dating and I was always alone. Rafe just happened to be there one night and we started talking.”

“Look, Y/n, it’s not our place to tell you who you can and can’t be with. We were all just a little shocked that it was Rafe you chose.” John B told you in a calm way.

“He changed. He isn’t anything like you guys think he is. I know what he did was awful but he is a different person now.” You tried to explain.

“My brother? He’s a psychopath Y/n. He tried to kill me. He tried to kill you. He tried to kill all of us.” Sarah spoke up in disbelief.

“She’s right. I bet it’s just another one of his plans. Fucking the shy, little Pogue to get information.” JJ spat.

“JJ, calm down,” Kie hit his head.

“No Kie, she chose her side. I mean look at her, all the expensive shit she wears. She went full Kook with her little boyfriend and we? Yeah, we lost everything, the gold, the cross and one of our best friends.” Sadness clearly visible in JJ’s voice.

“I miss you, guys,” You told them weakly.

“We miss you too, Y/n/n, it’s just hard to accept the fact that you are now dating the enemy.” Pope sighed.

“Nothing has to change, I am still the same Y/n I always was and I always will be. Please don’t hate me.“ You said desperately.

They looked at each other for a while before John B finally spoke up, “How could we ever hate you.”

He stood up and hugged you, the others followed quickly. Even JJ stood up and came to you, “Don’t let this piece of shit control you.”

“JJ,” You rolled your eyes, but smiled a little, a few tears still running down your cheeks, “I promise.”

Finally everything was good again.

But what none of you knew, Rafe never picked up the phone but followed you. He wanted to make sure nothing happened to you but when he saw you with your friends, he felt nothing but anger.

Tags: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

[rafestar]

I have this idea and I gotta tell someone, so yk those push pop candy’s. Well y/n eats one and takes the whole length out and sucks it and Rafe looks or drew and they think of their divk. And get horny so uh idk after like bang bang they do that and uh idk

TRY ME | Rafe Cameron

WARNINGS: +18 smut, oral sex (female receiving), sex without protection, hair pulling, dirty talk, etc

SUMMARY: reader teases rafe with a candy during dinner with their families.

A/N: thank you for the request love, i hope you like it. english isn’t my first language, if there’s any mistakes i will gladly welcome any advice or help, enjoy♡

"Choose one"

After finishing dinner at the Camerons' house, we all stayed at the table talking. While our parents were arguing about their things, Wheezie was handing out candy to me and Sarah.

“This one looks tasty.” I pointed to the strawberry push pop.

"It is! I'll take one too” exclaimed little Cameron. "You can also take some Rafe"

Rafe.

He on the other hand was in his own world, probably high, drunk, whatever.

“I'm not 13 years old to keep eating that shit” Even though he was looking down, clearly using his phone, I could see him rolling his eyes.

“Rude” I spoke.

Rafe, who was in front of me, for the first time tonight glanced up at something other than his phone or his food.

His intimidating look made me shift in my chair.

I never had any kind of contact with him, despite the fact that i was always at his house since Sarah is my best friend and our parents are also very good friends.

I could see from his look that he was throwing daggers at me. "No one was talking to you”.

And before looking down again I could see how he articulated "whore" before continuing on his phone.

Ignoring him, I continued my conversation with the two sisters while we sucked on our candies.

"I really don't know what to do, Topper is a good boy…”

“We already know you like Jo-“ Sarah covered Wheezie's mouth as I laughed.

"Wheezie!" Sarah whispered-screamed.

The three of us laughed until I noticed someone burning me alive with his eyes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Rafe's eyes were riveted on my lips. A smile gross on my face and I decided to try something.

I foolishly licked the top of the treat, carefully running my lips over the tip so only he would notice. I pushed the long candy until it was all in my mouth.

Meanwhile, I was still deep in conversation with Sarah, but I could clearly hear Rafe complaining and sometimes I'd side eye to see him squirming in his seat.

Until suddenly he pushed his seat back and got up hitting the table and knocking over a couple of glasses. "Shit…"

One of the drinks that fell was Sarah's. "What's wrong with you!"

"Fuck off Sarah." Rafe left the room without giving another backward glance.

"Words!" Rose yelled after continuing to drink her wine. "This kids…"

Everyone looked at each other strangely, less clearly me.

"Maybe he has an emergency," Ward justified.

Yes, an emergency.

Hiding my smile, I turned to continue my conversation, as everyone else did.

It took a while until everyone decided to go to the tables outside, since the weather was very good to be in the garden.

While my mom and Rose went on about their business, Ward and Dad talked about their jobs. Wheezie, Sarah and I were just laying on the floor looking at the stars.

The breeze got cooler and my skin got goosebumps since I was only wearing a sundress.

“Do you mind if I go upstairs to get a sweatshirt in your room,” I asked Sarah.

"It’s okay”.

I gave them a smile before getting up and brushing some of the grass off the skirt of my dress and headed inside the house.

I closed the door behind me and everything was pretty quiet. I made my way to the stairs until I felt a tug on my arm that took me to the kitchen.

Before I was going to scream, Rafe turned me around and covered my mouth with his big hand.

My eyes looked at him terrified, since from his look, he looked quite furious.

Looking sideways at the curtain-covered window, I saw our parents share a few laughs.

Rafe grabbed my jaw hard to direct my gaze to him.

"W-What do you want?" I whispered.

Rafe ran his tongue up the inside of his cheek before letting out a mocking laugh. "What do I want?"

Rafe grabbed my waist to lean me against the counter, and that's when I felt it. Against my stomach, I could feel how hard he was. My eyes flicked down and I saw how big he looked behind his jeans.

"I have something for you" my eyes widened in surprise.

Rafe rummaged through his pockets until he pulled out the same candy I was eating an hour ago.

“Thank you but I already ate one…”

My body was still trapped between his and the counter. His hip pressed hard against my stomach to keep feeling him. I watched as his long fingers removed the plastic from the long candy before taking it to his mouth. I saw how a trace of saliva was left on the candy when it came out of his mouth.

I felt like I had a pool inside my underwear. I couldn't help but get turned on by it. My cheeks turned hot pink as my gaze moved from his lips to his eyes. I guess he sensed my arousal, since with his free hand, he grabbed my waist for stability. My knees were shaking and if it wasn't for his touch, I'd probably be on the ground by now.

A lopsided smile appeared on his face, and his eyes sparkled a light blue.

He directed the sweet towards my closed lips, and outlined them inside. “Stick out your tongue”.

With his hand holding the candy, my tongue ran over the stick. His head tilted to the side and his eyes darkened as he followed my movements.

For a moment my movements stopped when Rafe introduced all the candy into my mouth.

"Push your lips against it and don’t let it fall" I did as he told me and his hands fell to my thighs.

He pushed me up onto the counter, squeezing the bare skin peeking out from under the skirt of my dress.

His hot breath felt against my face as he moved closer to me, looking closer into my eyes.

"I'm going to fuck you with that damn candy in your mouth."

My pupils dilated with desire, and I didn't take my gaze from him.

His hands trailed up the hem of my dress to my underwear and ripped it open. My eyes widened in shock and my hands clenched against the counter.

Rafe brushed my hair back and began to kiss the exposed skin of my neck. My head fell against the wall and my back arched. His cold hands ran over my neck and arms, caressing me gently. He slowly lower the straps of my dress until my breasts were exposed.

His hot kisses went down to one of my breasts, licking and biting through the center of my areola. Not leaving the other unattended, he massaged my nipple into a squeeze that made me jump to the edge of the counter.

He did the same steps with my other breast. His kisses trailed down my thighs, taking small bites and leaving marks on my sensitive skin. His big hands gripped my thighs, and I began to feel him kiss my core. His kisses were soft and his licks were soft.

He sucked all the folds in my core, before inserting his tongue. My legs trembled at that, and I could feel him smile against my intimacy. His tongue came out and went back to licking softly over the rest, before taking my clit between his teeth.

Saliva dripped down the side of my mouth as I clenched the candy hard.

I was near my peak of arousal until Rafe came back up. "Even sweeter than that fucking sweet."

My frown showed my frustration and he smiled at that.

His hands unbuttoned his pants and lowered his boxers a little, and the great bulge of him finally came out. My eyes widened at the size of him, and saliva kept dribbling from my mouth. His thumb wiped me clean before taking his hand to himself and massaging it a few times.

Without warning he entered me and my eyes squeezed shut. My whimpering over the candy and his growling were silent, since the only thing that separated us from our families was a simple window.

I opened my eyes and couldn't flinch at the image in front of me. Rafe's head was thrown back as his bare arms held the kitchen counter to the sides of my body.

"Jesus christ… how can you be so fucking tight Y/N” he sighed, before pulling out of me a bit and resting his forehead against mine.

My eyes looked at him and with my hands I grabbed his waist and pushed him back into me. His moan rumbled inches from my face.

His hand moved up to my hair and he squeezed hard before beginning to thrust hard and fast. We had both grown used to each other's size.

His onslaught made our skins crash against each other. Rafe brought his head to my neck as he gasped. Tickles turned my stomach.

"Your walls were made for me," he murmured against my neck.

His other hand gripped my thigh tightly as his thrusts followed the same quick, hard motion.

My walls began to contract against him, and my lips were sore from pressing against the sweet. Rafe came out of my neck and with the hand he had wrapped in my hair, he grabbed the candy and tossed it to the side.

Our lips immediately collided kissing hard.

His kisses were wet and passionate. Continuing with his thrusts, his fingers quickly massaged my clit.

Rafe contracted inside me without stopping to move. “Shit, Y/N…”

Hearing my name come out of it in such a pornographic way, was what made me break.

We both got to touch our highs and euphoria ran through our blood as he came inside me.

His thrusts ceased but his kisses never stopped. Our tongues were still tangled and our breaths felt rough.

Rafe leaned his forehead against mine as the kiss broke, both of us trying to catch our breaths.

I opened my eyes and Rafe was already looking into mine. Before we broke apart and helped me down from the counter, he kissed me again, but this time was in a sweet way.

He helped me clean up and walked me back to the garden where our families were.

I expected him to stay, but he didn't even say goodbye and he just walked out of the garden before getting on his bike and driving off.

Does he regret it?

It was just sex, but still. A bit of guilt coursed through me as I sat down next to Sarah.

I just fucked her brother.

My best friend's brother.

Sarah snapped me out of my thoughts. "And the sweatshirt?"

"Oh um..."

♡

taglist: @cecespeach @poguesworld @fullkookrafe

tell me if u want to be added ♡

[pendarling]

Approaching Exam

CW: Language, mentions of exam, studying, Math and English

I'm held hostage by the education system so here is a story revolving that.

Hero's pen clicked over and over again as the slow wind trickled in through the window.

They hated exams, and sometimes, they hated studying more than the results themselves.

Hero sat in the quiet room, a closed-off sector of the library that could be rented out for a few hours in a day, and they were lucky enough to get into one after weeks of waiting. They could see why it was so popular after all; the walls in the room allowed for complete silence, and it put Hero at ease despite the slight eerie sense of being alone. Their eyes glanced up at the sky through the window. The clouds moved so slowly, yet time seemed to go by fast. It made their stomach churn at the idea of being unable to get past the first page of the exam when it did happen, and time would slip by them before they got the chance to complete any of the answers. Their eyes flickered back down onto their page at the mathematical equations listed out in front of them.

"Fuck me." they sighed and ran their fingers through their hair. If Hero could trade their life as a student to become a full-time hero, they would, but being a hero didn't pay as well these days and eventually, as they entered adulthood further, they would need to look for a proper job.

'How annoying,' they thought.

The door knocked softly, and Hero turned in their seat as the entrance creaked slightly; their time wasn't up already, was it? They stared at the clock. About half an hour remained still, in walked what looked to be a familiar face, but Hero couldn't put where they'd seen them before. Their brows furrowed when their eyes met.

"Excuse me." The stranger spoke, "Is this room E1B?" They sheepishly laughed at the setting. "I think I'm supposed to be in here today." 

Hero pulled out their phone and checked the schedule they were emailed, "Mmm nope, it says here that this is my room."

The stranger turned their phone toward them as well, "Well, it looks like we got double-booked."

Hero leaned back on their chair, it looked like they'd be having company after all. With a small gesture of the head, Hero directed their new friend to the chair opposite the table. "Sorry." They mumbled they weren't sure why they were apologizing; it was the system's fault for scheduling two persons in the same room within the same hours.

They studied the new character as they set down their items and pulled out the chair. Hero wasn't planning on staring too much, but when someone looked this familiar to them, it was hard to look away. 

They turned their focus back onto their page, still stuck on question 6 out of 30. The practice exam had to be more challenging, and there was no way Hero would make it through tomorrow if they couldn't get this done today.

Sarah is a civil engineer working on a project to design a curved ramp for a pedestrian bridge in a city park. 

Hero ran their pencil under the words.

The ramp needs to smoothly connect two different levels of the park while adhering to safety regulations and accessibility standards. Sarah decides to use a curved shape for the ramp, represented by the function y=√x​, where y represents the height of the ramp at a given distance x along its length.

Hero sighed and ran their fingers through their hair; they were so bored. Why was Sarah even a civil engineer? With all that money to get through the education and become one, she could've instead lived comfortably and married a nice rich husband, assuming her status was at least middle class.

This scenario was so unrealistic, plus it's like ten times harder for women to get into male-dominated fields because of sexism. Hero rolled their eyes and skipped the question. They flipped their page and glanced back at the stranger now reading a book, but what caught them by surprise was their hand, idly twisting a blue highlighter they felt they recognized.

From the back of their memory, Hero recalled a similar situation. 

They sat on the floor bound by a rope. The mission of the day wasn't going as well as they had hoped, and Hero was left at the mercy of Villain while the other sat a few feet away from them on what looked to be a large desk. From their perspective, they could hardly make out what the computer screen in front of Villain was saying, but they could certainly see the way Villain effortlessly twirled the pen between each finger. They always wondered how they did that. 

As soon as their memories left them, it had become apparent. The familiar face across them was Villain.

But what could they be doing here?

There was no way Villain was seriously studying how to annotate for what looked to be an English exam. For some reason, Hero never took Villain for being a student themselves. To be fair, they sort of assumed most villains weren't necessarily part of any civilian activity, and certainly, no villain should be a student of the city they tried destroying. 

Man... if Hero could get Villain to destroy the school facility, they wouldn't be studying at all. However, seeing how diligently Villain remained focused on their work made Hero no longer interested in convincing them.

'Oh God,' Hero turned their face away from their direction, 'What if Villain recognized me and didn't say anything?!' In their bag, Hero knew they kept their dagger just in case they should ever be kidnapped by any particularly vengeful villain; they just didn't think it would be this person of all; they never seemed too fond of doing more than their work let them. Hero swallowed; in that case, they should prepare for a sudden attack if it did occur; there was just no way this was all a coincidence.

Booking two students into the same room? Are you kidding me? The system never messes up. This was clearly a ploy set up to kill Hero.

Their nervousness was felt as soon as their leg began to jump noticeably, shaking the table, much to Villain's delight.

"Excuse me," They set their eyes on them. Hero froze, "Please don't shake the table. I can't write."

"Uh-- sorry."

Hero reached down and unzipped their bag, slowly creeping the knife to their side; they would attack first; Villain wouldn't even see it coming. After unsheathing the blade from its case, Hero measured the distance between the two of them. The table really wasn't that large enough to stop Hero from jumping over it; maybe if they grabbed their arm or the collar of their shirt before throwing Villain down, they would have the upper hand. If that didn't work, maybe a kick or knocking a few items from the table for a distraction. 

Hero remained focused on Villain as their enemy remained unaware. Maybe they were aware and had already thought of all the different counterattacks they could use against them. In that case-- the element of surprise was most valuable.

"What?" Villain frowned at them. Hero shook themselves out of their head; they must've been unknowingly staring for too long. Well, no point in getting embarrassed over it now.

Hero's grip tightened on the handle of the dagger as they chuckled nervously, "Oh, I was just wondering--" They jumped from the table and shoved the blade in Villain's direction. With a calculated move, Villain swiftly moved their head, catching their wrist with their other hand but knocking themselves out of the chair. 

Hero jumped away from them, their ankle stung from accidentally hitting themselves on the edge of the table just as they moved. Villain didn't waste any time and lunged at them, quickly covering the space between them.

A solid blow to their stomach sent Hero stumbling back, and the dagger fell from them with a soft clank; they sunk to their knees, holding themselves from instinctively vomiting.

Villain grabbed the weapon and rushed to the open window, quickly locking it in place and closing its blinds. The room was a lot darker than Hero expected. Had that window always had shutters?

Hero hesitantly stood back up. The sharp metallic edge was pointed in their direction. "Don't even think about trying that again."

Their shoulder tensed at the thought of their next plan; they could run out that door, but what were the odds that Villain had already sent back up to encircle the place, and how would they keep civilians from getting hurt?

Villain licked their lips and inched closer, "Who sent you?" they demanded. 

"Huh?" Was Villain genuinely asking them that? Wait-- did Villain not recognize them?

They laughed softly at the idea of having figured out their enemy's identity before them. 

Hero, the idiot who couldn't get past question 6 on the practice math exam, could easily identify Villain. All this time, they had been under the impression that Villain was intellectually superior to them in every way, and although that may be the case, they were not one for remembering faces. It made part of Hero feel tremendous.

"No one." 

Their bag still contained a few other items of use, such as a small smoke grenade that would definitely come in handy. Hero would have to go online and do the practice exam from their computer; there was no way in hell they'd be able to collect all their things and run. 

Villain wasn't feeling very entertained with the prospect of having to forcibly recall to the best of their ability what they'd done to be assassinated during their downtime. Without letting their eyes leave the other student, they walked toward Hero's bag and reached down; Hero felt a sweat come on; did they know they were hiding more tools in there?

"Hey, don't go and steal my lunch money, alright?"

"Shut up." They pulled the tag attached to the bag and examined the student ID card intently; it looked like an actual student identification card, though the name didn't ring a bell at all. 

"Villain, I'm actually offended that you don't know who I am."

"My bad, I wasn't aware there was an exam for memorizing faces as well." They tilted their neck from side to side, examining Hero's unmoving position. 

Nothing about them stood out, but this person knew their name and must be a hero, at the least, seeing how their only sense of heroism was throwing themselves in danger-- a common feature among most heroes, but that didn't narrow down which hero, in particular, they were looking at.

"Not even my voice?" Hero glanced at them with a slight pout.

Their enemy racked their brain, still clueless about their identity, and their hands roamed around the pieces of paper Hero was working on. "Whatever, are you even a real student or did you just come here to distract me?" 

Hero didn't reply with anything other than a shrug. They didn't initially come to attack Villain, but they also couldn't let Villain live freely within their presence. 

Villain raised the practice exam questions to their face, reading the sheet as if searching for answers to help them understand who they were up against. "You didn't even do most of these right. How did you get 1.6667? It's not even listed in the multiple choice."

They threw down the booklet onto the table; Hero blushed, "I'm not good at that stuff. But don't change the topic, alright? I could've killed you if I wanted to."

"But you didn't." They smirked.

The door pushed open again, and Villain hurriedly tucked the dagger away.

"Excuse me~" A young woman and a few of her other friends stood outside, "We reserved this room for 6 pm...?"

Villain looked at the clock and then back at the group. "We'll be leaving now. Sorry about that." They looked at Hero and egged them to get to cleaning their mess. Their feet moved, albeit nearly struggling to keep themselves upright from the pain of their ankle. They should've been a lot more careful when it came to spatial awareness. Now wasn't the time to mull on that, though. 

Once they had left the library, Villain headed in the direction of their exit. "You still following me?" They spoke, almost irritated.

"You have my dagger, and I would like it back. Please." With a short flick of the wrist, Villain dismissed their request and continued on their way down the flight of stairs. Hero had momentarily wondered what would happen if they had just gotten on with it already, pushed Villain down the stairs and took back their knife. It wasn't like anyone saw it happen anyway; no one stuck around this long after hours, not even the faculty. 

Villain abruptly stopped in their tracks, still a little ahead of them. "Hero?"

"Yes?"

With a slight smile tracing their face, Villain spun their head around to look up at them. For a second, Hero was lost at what they were so happy about until it hit them, and they responded to their name at Villain's call. 

"Fuck you."

Villain simply hummed, satisfied, and moved on.

~~~ MASTERLIST

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[alovelywaytospendanevening]

John Updike vs. Gay Literature

On May 23, 1999, John Updike published a review of The Spell in The New Yorker magazine. Written by Alan Hollinghurst, the novel is another of his tales of the gay underworld, an attribute that clearly displeased Updike:

The novels of the English writer Alan Hollinghurst take some getting used to; they are relentlessly gay in their personnel, and after a while you begin to long for the chirp and swing and civilizing animation of a female character. Save for the briefly and reluctantly glimpsed sister or mother, there are none. Boredom swoops in without hetero clutter to obstruct its advent. Novels about heterosexual partnering, however frivolous and reducible to increments of selfishness, social accident, foolish overestimations, and inflamed physical detail, do involve the perpetuation of the species and the ancient, sacralized structures of the family. Perhaps the male homosexual, uncushioned as he is by society's circumambient encouragements to breed, feels the lonely human condition with a special bleakness: he must take it straight. (Full review)

The backlash, as The New York Observer reported, was almost immediate:

“It really feels like an attack,” said Angels in America playwright Tony Kushner. Writer and activist Larry Kramer circulated an e-mail alert among gay writers on May 31, with certain of Mr. Updike’s lines highlighted. Novelist Sarah Schulman, who is a lesbian, said she wrote a letter to The New Yorker “the second I read the piece. It was so outrageous.” Craig Lucas, the writer of the movie Longtime Companion, also wrote a letter. “What he basically wanted to do is turn up his nose to distasteful sex,” he said. “This coming from the author of Couples! The idea that heterosexual sex is ‘sacralized,’ in his absurd phrase.” Mr. Kushner thought Mr. Updike knew what he was doing. “I have a suspicion that he thought he was being cute and naughty.” Mr. Kushner said Mr. Updike’s review “represents a kind of genteel tradition of disdain for homosexuals,” that has long been present at the magazine, going back to E.B. White and James Thurber. So far, none of the letters have appeared in the magazine; New Yorker editor David Remnick didn’t return calls for comment. A New Yorker spokesman said, “It’s our understanding that Hollinghurst was not displeased by the review.”

Asked about the controversy, Updike seemed to miss the point of the criticism:

He said he had never read Mr. Hollinghurst before, and that when he did, this was his reaction. “As with all books that you are reviewing, you try to give your impression of the atmosphere within the book, which seemed kind of gloomy and pointless to me,” he said. “So I’ll just have to withstand whatever letters come.” It’s not like he wanted to make generalizations about homosexuality. “I’d be happy not to discuss it,” he said. “Hollinghurst made it kind of tough. It makes it the unavoidable topic of discussion. It’s all about it. And for me to avoid his own emphasis would certainly be not doing my reviewer’s job.”

Colm Tóibín, another notable gay author, further bashed Updike’s views on homosexuality:

If you look at it carefully, that view of his will eventually eat into his reputation. Because his own elaborately confident and super-developed heterosexuality is actually an impediment to the proper writing and it eats at his sentences at times and it eats at his books… If you start reading Updike very carefully you start reading the astonishing boasting about sexual life which I found much more offensive than he does Hollinghurst’s book.

Years later, Hollinghurst himself spoke about the review:

Well, it was deplorable in various ways, but I also remember being very amused by it. There was this person who had gone to rather extraordinary lengths in his details of heterosexual sex and for whom the analysis of sexual behavior seemed to be so fundamental to his work as a novelist. But who was giving the impression in this review that everything he knew about homosexuality he gleaned from my novels, like he had never come across it in real life at all. I thought it was absolutely extraordinary, therefore so absurd, the old way he put it about the animating chirp of the female presence or something that he so missed in my books. It was terribly silly. It showed that he had chosen to emphasize his own failure with this large and interesting aspect of human behavior.

[dreamypqulson]

— for the hope of it all

requested by anon: any sarah character / falling for your professor / happy ending

pairing: diane sherman x reader

note: reader is not a minor so it’s legal bffs!

word count: 2100

The end of the year was approaching and it wasn't as exciting as it typically is. Graduation was soon and yet you couldn't find it in yourself to count down the days with exhilaration. You wanted to leave school finally, yes, but you couldn't leave her.

Miss Sherman had been your English instructor for the entire year now. You had never got too close to any teachers throughout the years, but Miss Sherman was different. Almost as if she wanted to get close to you.

You had spent many after school hours with her -even if you didn't need extra help on assignments or the lesson. You would stay to help her, and maybe even fake stupidity so she could teach you one on one.

Your many absences had nearly disappeared at this point. You wanted to come, every single day, just so you could see her.

The bell rang and the class cleared out. You rushed to shove your papers into your bag as the room become quiet. "Y/n, can you stay back for a minute, honey?" Honey. She always called you that. You could say she called everyone that or she was just saying it to be nice, but if you looked back on the way she addresses other students, you’d be lying.

You hummed your approval and once your shaky hands managed to shove your folder into your bag, you placed it on your back and walked up to her desk.

She looked up at you and smiled, for just a moment it was silent. And you think your brain might explode with these long stream of thoughts. She leaned her elbows on her desks and propped her head in her hands. She’s in the perfect position for you to kiss her, and you’re right there, and nobody else is around. But you quickly shake those thoughts away. That is extremely inappropriate.

“You seemed very lost in your thoughts today. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Her voice was gentle and her eyes softened as she spoke. Everything about her was so welcoming and she felt just like the feeling of coming home after a long day. “Are you okay,” she asked, seriously this time.

You cleared your throat and nodded. In fact, not okay. It was far too difficult to pay attention with the blouse she wore today. The cut, not risqué, but lower than usual. “I’m fine. I’m just really tired.”

“Are you sure you’re just tired, sweetie? You don’t seem like yourself. Very flustered and on-edge.” If she wasn’t being so sweet, you would’ve thought that she was out to get you.

You fiddled with the straps of your bag. A nervous habit that you picked up on. Her eyes adverted to your hands and she noticed how fidgety you were being. “Positive. My mind was just running a lot last night and I couldn’t seem to shut it off.”

“Alright,” she smiled. You knew she wasn’t fully content with your answer, but she decided to let it slide. “Well you know i’m here for you if you ever want to talk.”

“I know. Thank you, Miss Sherman. Bye, have a nice weekend.” You begin to walk back out of the classroom, just as your name was called again. You turned back around and she was closer than you anticipated.

She seemed to be unfazed by the closeness of it all, but you were sure that she could hear your pounding heart. “Almost forgot; there’s a paper due on Mon—”

And, fuck, she looked so pretty close up like this. You tried your hardest to hold yourself back, you really did, but you truly wanted to sleep tonight and you couldn’t if all you could think about is how would her lips feel against mine.

You did it. You stood on your toes, because she was just a little bit taller than you, and kissed her. Simple and sweet, but there was no denying that it happened.

She looked shocked, and you weren’t sure if she was appalled or flustered. She was certainly trying to find something, anything to say. But before she could, you were already running out the door. “Shit! I’m— i’m so sorry, Miss Sherman.”

Diane stood there, beyond puzzled. You didn’t even give her the chance to kiss you back. If only you had waited just a moment longer.

-

Diane found you walking home from the school. Often times, she took another root, but she was running late leaving today and there would've been too much traffic. She wouldn’t have been home for another two hours from now. There was a frown on your face, a difficult look for the older woman to ignore. She was only trying to help, really— "Y/n! Need a ride?"

You turned to look into the car. You were startled at first; an unfamiliar voice calling your name. But you saw darkened amber locks and soft brown eyes shimmering as a golden river. You didn't hesitate to hop into the car.

And you should’ve. You really should’ve hesitated. Because not even an hour ago you were kissing the woman.

Still, you discovered solace in the warmth of her vehicle. The forth month of the year was warm but the evenings still chilled out anyone with a shirt shorter than the length of their arms.

Diane still had difficulty noting the cause of your gloomy aura. She decided to ignore your sorrow face and focus on the road ahead. The conversation was directed elsewhere, and you could finally take a deep breath. "What happened to your car?"

You looked over at her again and she looked nearly glad that you were walking. That she so happened to catch you when she could help out. "It's in the shop. It broke down yesterday evening."

"You could've asked me to drive you home, you know."

You leaned back and sighed. Her seats were so soft, so much so that you could fall asleep. Yet, your eyes remained wide open. Your mind ran too fast and your heartbeat thrummed in your chest so loud that you could hardly hear the words coming out of her mouth.

"I didn't entirely know if we are on speaking terms." You looked at the window to give off the impression that you didn't care about the conversation being held. But you did care. You care so much about everything and nothing.

"Of course we are, y/n. I'm your teacher—"

"Miss Sherman—"

"—Diane," She corrected you, yet stern as if she were talking to a misbehaving student. She is. You have to remember that.

"Exactly, Diane. I think we both know that it's much more than that." Your house came into view and she pulled into the driveway. Neither of you decided to make a move and it was then that you discovered that you were allowed to leave. “Like that time you kissed my forehead, or how you only call me honey and sweetie. It’s so much more, Diane.”

It was left at that. Neither of you wanted to admit the solemn truth because you both knew what you were doing to each other was wrong. Nevertheless, neither of you could find it in yourselves to care of stopping.

You wanted her, and she wanted you. That was that.

-

The following day, your feet dragged down the hallway to the English room. It was as if your ankles were locked in weighted shackles.

You were the last one to walk in. Everyone was already seated and chattering. Still, Diane watched you as you sat down, only making eye contact for a mere moment until you broke it. Her expression was unreadable which had to have been worse than anything. You had to sit there while she taught, unable to focus on the story on the board because of your own romance with your forbidden lover.

You suffered in this torture until you eventually excused yourself to the bathroom. You just needed a break, and frankly, you weren't sure that you would go back to class.

You sat in silence and held back rivers in your eyes so your mascara wouldn't smudge. It was until then that you heard the bathroom door open again. You rolled your eyes, aware that anyone who goes into the bathroom is only using it to smoke it out.

Gentle footsteps walked towards the last stall. The one you sat in. Steps as soft as if the person was floating rather than stepping. "Y/n?" The voice called out in a hushed whispered. Contained and hastily, as if your name was forbid to say.

You stood up and brushed down the invisible wrinkles on your shirt. You made no effort to walk out of the stall. You wanted her to find you herself. "Y/n, is that you?"

A her knuckles knocked against the stall door, echoing in the empty bathroom. You clear your throat and finally spoke up, "Yes it's me." Still, you could not bring yourself to open the door. You didn't want to see the face that you were disallowed to have. It pained you too much.

"Can I come in," there was hesitance in her voice, "I just want to talk to you." Your throat got caught up somewhere in your vocal cords. You opted to just unlock the door and move to the side for her to squeeze in.

There was not enough space between either of you, yet you felt two world apart. She gazed into your eyes, you don't know what she was trying to seek in them, but you assumed she was feeling the same things you were. Lust, desire.

It was a matter of seconds before she was kissing you. Or you were kissing her. You couldn't remember. Everything was foggy and you were caught up in a haze of the sweet vanilla taste of her.

You pulled away when you were brought to your senses by her hand on your waist. You were mere inches apart and you just wanted more of her but there were things to be said. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"There are so many things that I want to say to you," she exhaled some air. Her warm breath tickled your face, "but let's start with this."

And then she was on you again, but you weren't mad at it. You encouraged it. Urged in on. You ached for her. When her hand brushed against the hairs on the back of your neck, you arched your body closer.

You parted your lips and her tongue did not shy away from entering, exploring every inch of you. You moaned into the sensation, tugged on her shirt for something for your hands to do.

After nearly seeing heaven, you both caught your breaths in parting. She brushed away the stray hairs on your face, looking at you with a smile that could only be described as love.

"If that's what wanting to talk to me means," you took a deep breath and gulped, hard, "then please never shut the fuck up."

She belly laughed at you but then the school bell rang and it sent her into a slight sense of panic. "Shit, the class." She pulled away and everything suddenly felt cold. "Meet me at my car after school." She fixed up her hair with a simple flattening hand and winked at you.

Then she was gone, leaving you there with a pounding heart and aching lips.

-

The end of the day came slower than you cared to admit. The hands on the clock passed as slow as if a snail was dragging it along. And you wanted to curse her for doing this to do.

Yet you still found yourself racing to the parking lot as soon as the obnoxiously loud bell rang in your ears. You never thought that you would want to hear that bell this badly before.

The redness on your cheeks pulsed and the cool breeze could not seem to settle that. Your heart beat; loud and heavy like a band banging on their drums. You could say that your rapid pulse was from walking so speedily, but you would be lying about that.

You could spot her leaning against her car with her arms crossed at her chest. She was grinning, ear to ear. A sly look on her face was prominent and helped you discover that she just wanted you.

You didn't know what had altered her perception on the relationship, but you didn't really want to know right now.

You walked up to her, body warmth radiating between you with the press against each other. You were her girl and you didn't want to hide that. She grabbed the back of your head and lightly pulled you closer by that. You touched her lips with your own, soft and sweet. And that was the moment you knew.

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[andguesswhat]

The shield that you own - 2 -

*

After stepping out of the shower, Jack dried himself roughly, tied the towel around his hips and went to the desk at the window to have a look on his phone if something had occurred and he was needed. But only a message from his little sister Sarah blinked.

I saw you pining over him. Shouldn't you be watching the fans instead?

Although Jack was aware that it wasn't good if anyone looking could see his feelings for Tim and that he should urgently admonish himself to restrain his reactions on the red carpet, he had to smile. He liked Sarah's dry remarks. Ever since he started working for Tim regularly, she had been his constant critical commentator. His CCC, as he had taken to calling her.

He looked at the "evidence photos and videos" from the premiere in Mexico city that Sarah had sent along.

Tim had been given a wrestling mask by a fan, tried it on straight away and posed with it. It was adorable. What was he supposed to do? How could you not smile at that?

In another photo in a different situation, however, it was not quite as clear how he could talk his way out of it.

Jack sighed and scrolled up to Sarah's last message, a few days earlier, which he hadn't replied to either.

LOL Are you his minion now, his boom box carrier? Was that part of your training too?

A picture showed him walking next to Tim carrying Tim's boom box on their way to the Jimmy Kimmel studio. Loud music was Tim's constant companion in cars and dressing rooms. Jack found it endearing, and he didn’t think it was a big deal that he was the one carrying the box, it was part of his job.

But Sarah declined to see these things, instead warned him to let himself be exploited. Although she was the little sister, she saw it as her job to mentally protect her big brother, who in her opinion was ‘far too nice for this world’.

Jack knew she meant it well. In the end it was kind of funny because she was basically the reason why Jack had become a bodyguard. Because he had always protected her.

As a teen, Sarah had taken just as much pleasure in being rebellious as now, which had gotten her into trouble more than once.

When Jack, as her 10-year-old older brother, had first been involuntarily instructed by their mother to look after her, he had quickly realized that he enjoyed it. He had realized that he was good at it, protecting someone, staying calm in troubled and difficult situations. Staying firm. And taking action when necessary.

Today, Sarah was still too rebellious to not getting into trouble, but by now she was old enough and had learned to look after herself.

Jack looked out of his hotel room window over the rooftops of Paris in the afternoon sun.

The next premiere was coming up.

The morning had gone well, the cast had had fun with their interviews. They would make good publicity.

Tim was always a bit different in Paris. Somehow more Frenchy, Jack would say and Tim would laugh at him for that.

But it was true, Tim spoke more elegantly in Paris. His lips and tongue adapted to the flattering language, but he also expressed himself more selectively in English.

He also dressed more elegantly. Jack was curious about Tim's outfit for tonight and he was looking forward to the evening.

Only Tim's flirting with Austin was a thorn in his side. Although he knew it shouldn’t.

He liked Austin. He got on well with him.

In a perfidious way, he even liked it when Tim flirted with him. Because Tim laughed a lot then and looked happy. And that was the most important thing, wasn't it?

He knew Sarah would hate him for that attitude. "Please for fucking once think about yourself!" she would say.

But he was who he was. And after all, this was also a reason why he was doing his job well, right? So why should he change?

The vibrating of his cell phone snapped him out of his thoughts.

Tim. He had sent him a photo of a silver designer breastplate lying in a fashion box. Underneath:

Look at thaaaat! Tonight, I'm going to have two shields! ;)

Jack smiled, sent a little knight emoji and looked at his watch.

Pick you up in 20!

*

Tim looked beautiful with this shield on his chest that reflected the colors of his surroundings. Over it he wore an elegant suit which emphasized his slender figure. Jack found even more opportunities than usual to touch him, happy for every turn they had to make so that he could gently point him in the right direction. Tim was laughing a lot that night, Tim was beaming a lot that night, Tim was flirting with Austin a lot that night. Jack was already familiar with Tim's flirting. On the Wonka promo tour he had made Hugh Grant all fuzzy with it, but now with Austin... it was more physical, also more put-on somehow. Jack could see that they really liked each other, but they were also putting on a show for the fans for sure. In the end they were both professionals.

Which didn't really make it any easier for Jack, because he knew Tim liked to lose himself in the game sometimes. He knew he shouldn't care. He didn't want to be jealous, it was totally inappropriate to be jealous. They had no relationship, no commitments.

But still... After the premiere party, they went to their hotel and parted from the others. Jack was so busy hugging everyone that he didn't notice Tim saying goodbye to Austin. Outside Tim's hotel room, just before Jack wanted to say goodnight to Tim, Tim leaned lasciviously against the door frame, no longer wearing the shield, his bare chest so inviting, his eyes as dark as they were demanding and purred with a wicked grin, "Austin let me suck his cock today, do you want to punish me for it?" And that's when Jack realized that his shield was also already down again. He couldn't think as quickly as his hand buried itself deep in Tim's curls and his body pressed Tim against the door, causing Tim to groan with excitement. Tim loved to be taken hard and Jack loved to make Tim happy. A few moments later they were already naked on the bed and he rammed into Tim as he gripped his hips, fucked him hard from behind as his hands clamped around Tim's neck, and when Tim was about to come, he held Tim’s mouth shut, the stifled scream making both their bodies tremble with ecstasy.

Exhausted and satisfied they fell on the bed. It wasn't the first time they'd had rough sex like this. The night before the Golden Globes, he had received a message from Tim to visit him at home. When he complied with the request, he realized that Tim had more sex stuff than Jack knew what to do with. But unlike here in Paris, that night hadn't been about fun. Tim had needed something else that night. A binding. A binding by limitation. Tim had been lost, upset, in despair. In layman's terms, Jack would say not far from a panic attack. Tim needed someone to put him in his place again. So Jack had tried to help, had done as well as he could. Had set him limits, tied him up, held him down, fucked him while Tim's body writhed and Tim's moans released what there was to release. Even though it was the sex that had felt most distant from himself to Jack, it had been the most emotional he'd ever had. Seeing Tim like that, seeing how much he needed that, his body to be restricted, to be able to be in the end completely himself again.... It had moved him deeply.

Now Tim lay beside him in bed, sleeping and breathing peacefully, recovering from an exhausting day and Jack allowed himself to run his fingers lightly over his slender body. However harsh he had been to Tim, Jack could never have hurt him. Over the years, he'd seen the marks on Tim's body. Reserved for someone else. No matter how proudly Tim wore those marks, the sight of them only made Jack want to protect him even more. And no matter how much more familiar they had been after this evening before the Golden Globes, the marks from someone else always showed him clearly that in the end he wasn't the one Tim needed... **

[lookforthelig-ht]

Too Soft (Joel Miller X Reader) (One Shot)

Summary: One walk around Jackson had Joel thinking it was possible to find light in the darkness. Even if he hated the Fireflies

I wrote it based on "Sweet Nothing" by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Ahhhh first Joel fic and I think I’m obsessed?? English isn’t my first language so sorry if I made any mistakes but I think I did good? 

Warning: none? Mentions of violence, some swear words here and there, just Joel trying to be nice. No use of Y/N, implied age gap(canon Joel Miller's age, reader is in her twenties

Joel had avoided it. Ever since settling into Jackson with Ellie, he has been avoiding the “Survivors Support Group” the community had set up for people to talk about the struggles of living in a world with a deadly infection and how most the people left felt guilt over it. He knew it wouldn’t be good. It would just get him thinking about Sarah and how Ellie almost got hurt by David a few months ago as well. The guilt was eating him alive. But Maria kept insisting, as well as Tommy. They both had their reasons to keep bothering him but at the end, they just wanted him to speak up about his reality, to know he’s not alone in his feelings but at the end of the day, Joel is Joel and he would rather bottle up any feelings than let others know that he is capable of human emotions. 

Ever since arriving to Jackson, Tommy and Joel were called “Kind and Mean Miller”. Tommy just ignored it and Joel wasn’t really aware of it. He just cared about his brother, Ellie and his future niece or nephew. Joel did the basics, wake up, make breakfast, do whatever work was available and end the nights with guitar lessons for Ellie. The latter were becoming less frequent considering she was quickly becoming very close with another girl in the community, Dina. Since his nights were suddenly more free, he started to hang out more at the Tipsy Bison, were Maria and Tommy suggested the support group

“Kinda like an AA meeting?” Joel asked reluctantly while sipping from his whisky glass. Maria and Tommy just looked at each other and laughed. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to stop doing anything, most of us have gone to at least a two meetings and they’re done every day at the same time so people can go after work” Maria explained. Her tummy was growing by the minute and Tommy just couldn’t wait to be a dad. Joel just nodded but made a mental note to never go. He thought to himself he doesn’t have anything to talk about. 

The next day went by pretty fast and when Joel was making his way to the bar, he sees the town hall. People were walking in and entering. He knew that’s where the meeting were held. So, he figured everyone entering the building would be there.

He took a deep breathe before changing his pace and go back to the town hall. He couldn’t even believe himself as he made his ways up the porch of the hall. When he opened the door, all the chairs were arranged in a big circle and most of them were occupied.

The minute he entered the room, all the chatter stops. All eyes went to him, wondering why the Mean Miller is there. His heartbeat starts racing when he noticed all the attention on him. He quickly managed to get a sit near by and just sat down. He kept a straight back and laid his hands on his knees. He heard a bell ring when a middle aged man in a desk spoke.

“ To continue the meeting we have Betta” the man called to a young woman sitting a few sits beside Joel. He had seen you before but he has never approached you. You were in your early twenties so why you would you want to be approached by an old man like him, Joel assumed. As he has the bad habit of doing so. You had a pair of baggy jeans and a rose colored sweater that matched the color of your cheeks. Your hair was always down but today you had it in a high pony. Your sneakers looked as if they were once white but now were gray. You smiled at the name Betta and corrected with your actual name before starting to speak. Joel never actually talked to you, but he knew you as the girl that always had an opinion. You spent most of your time complaining about how others are doing more work while the rest stayed inside. Joel preferred the morning watch, and you had dibs on the night one. Every morning he would find a group of people gossiping over something you did like slapping the guards if they made a pass at you or competing to see who had the best aim with their gun. Joel couldn’t put picture you in any of those but that was definitely you. 

“Evening everyone” You started and smiled at everyone in the room, even to Joel. “Um…some of you were speaking of survivor’s guilt early on. I-“ You wanted to speak but were being cut off by the tears in your eyes. You quickly wiped them away with your sleeve and continued “Wow, will I ever be ever to share without crying?” You asked and there was a quiet laugh in the room. Joel couldn’t stop staring, he never thought you had a soft spot. “As I was saying…I think that’s the name of what I’ve been feeling since the outbreak started. Why so many died or got infected but not me? Why did I make it this far but not the others?” She started asking the questions Joel has had since the world went upside down. “And I don’t only speak about the outbreak, everything I have ever lived, everything I have experienced has been like that and… even being here right now” you stopped to look at everyone in the room. “I…I can’t help but feel ungrateful, I have a house, I have water, I have food, clothes, fuck, I get to do a lot more than most people yet, I feel like I don’t deserve it. I spent most days thinking of when I was a baby, living in California, my parents were sort of on the hippie side so we lived on this commune on SoCal and…I miss it” you admitted. “I have everything, but I don’t want it.” The tears felt hot against your cheek. You stopped wiping them because they just kept coming. You just nodded because you couldn’t talk more. 

Everyone clapped as they usually did after someone shared and some of your peers beside you held your hands in support. The meeting kept moving on until it was done. People started to pick up their things and head out. You noticed Joel entered the meeting and how he managed to stay quiet all throughout. You had seemed him around but considering that most people call him “Mean Miller” you just stayed in your lane. Sure, you were a feisty one yourself, but you picked your fights and were wise to do so. Since it was his first time here, you thought he might be a little lost, so you decided to approach him before he opened the door.

“Hey! You’re Joel, right?” You went up to him to introduce yourself “Most people call me Betta” you said, praying he wouldn’t ask for an explanation of the nickname you have rightfully earned here. Joel gave you a confused look and you just sighted. “Betta as in the betta fighting fish, apparently if you put them in front of a mirror, they are ready to defend themselves and according to the residents of Jackson, I’m ready to fight even my own reflection.” You finished. You laughed at the statement as the both of you exited the hall. 

"I guess it makes sense” he admitted to you. You opened your mouth in awe, not knowing he had it in him. 

“Well, he jokes, cute” you said as you walked down the snow-covered streets of Jackson. “Did you like it? The meeting, this is the first time I’ve seen you in one” you said. You went every day, so you knew who was new and who wasn’t. It was probably the only time of the day you teared down your walls and let yourself feel.

“I guess it was alright” Joel started. He was significantly taller than you. His broad shoulders towering over you with each step. You looked at him as he spoke “Not really the type to share my feelings, ya know?” He said, probably more to himself than to you. You silently nodded, knowing where he came from. 

“Can I be honest?” you boldly asked to the man, who looked at you with raised eyebrows. You aren’t afraid of him. You approached with a smile and are making an effort to make a conversation, something that hasn’t happened in a while. “I may be known as Betta but I’m probably too soft for all this” you said looking around the town. The statement took Joel by surprise “I…I know I have this tough front but when I’m in that meeting, I can let everything out and it feels good, it reminds me that it isn’t a bad thing to be vulnerable” you confessed to the man. His once dark eyes softened at you. They had sort of spark in them, it looked like hope. For a moment, both of you stopped. The world around you seemed to vanish as you just stared into the other. You gave him a smile before you continued with your walk, even if he hasn’t talked much, his eyes were more than enough of an answer.

Joel hasn’t said much to you but it didn’t matter. The way you softly spoke made him question everything he has heard about you. How can this girl, this woman be capable of violence? Hell, he didn’t picture you holding a gun or causing a riot. You were delicate, you were graceful, you were in your own words “soft” Everything he was not yet you weren’t scared, you were fearless, you had fire in your eyes and he felt lightness in you. You didn’t let your past define you. You were determined to make the best out of the shitty situation the world was in. Then suddenly he felt your arms around him. You wrapped yourself in his body in a hug he looked like he needed

“See ya around, Miller” you said before you left him standing there.

[nandsmi]

MY SILLY BRAIN (me) NEEDED TO WRITE ABOUT STEVE HARRINGTON GAINING A FATHER FIGURE BECAUSE *WELL* HIS SUCKS (mine too). So Hopper was the chosen one! My english is horrible, but my intentions are good.

★⭑✩ ⭑ ★ ⭑ ☆ ⭑★⭑☆⭑★⭑☆⭑★⭑☆⭑★

Hopper's parents divorced shortly before the end of high school, when he was sixteen. It was dramatic and involved a lot of screaming, like everything his parents did, but it brought a relief that Hopper did not even know he needed. So he didn't complain about crossing Hawkins every weekend to meet his mother and her new husband for a family dinner or about his new step-sister, Catherine, who was almost as horrible and snobbish as her fiance, Richard "Dick" Harrington.

They were the perfect couple, Hopper thought. One more arrogant and pompous than the other.

He did not think much about Cathy after his mother's death, months after he returned from Vietnam. He attended the wake side by side with his stepfather and, after crying like a child in the safety of his apartment, he burned the letter Catherine had sent from Paris, burned her condolences and excuses — she signed it as Catherine Harrington then. He burned it and fled. He ran away from Hawkins. From his ol' man, from his friends and from the pain he felt. He eventually found a career and new friends and started a family, all without thinking or remembering the existence of his step-sister, if he could still consider her as such.

And then he lost Sarah. Diane. Returning to Hawkins was a safe choice, poetic even. Let the remains of his new life rot along with those of his old one. Still, the Harringtons were just one of many families Hopper had to answer to as the Chief and he thought no more of them than he thought of anyone else, except the occasional curse when he driving through Loch Nora.

Like everyone else does.

So yeah, Catherine is the last person Hopper expects at his door on a Thursday afternoon. But there she is, standing on his porch. Dressed as if she were the First Lady while carrying in one hand a backpack that does not match with her heels while the other holds a boy next to her.

"James" She greets. Her expression says shes disgusted to be there. Hopper is not happy either. "This' Steve. Steven, this is your uncle, James"

"Hopper" he corrects involuntarily.

A lightly push. Steve, who looks no older than twelve, stumbles foward, mopping. He mutters a greeting, calls Hopper "sir" with just the right amount of annoyance that still sounds polite. Sighing, Catherine throws the backpack at Hoppers feet.

"I need a favor, James."

These words along with Steve' unhappy expression send a shiver down his spine.

"What?" He is confused. They haven't spoke to in a decade and even before that, Cathy barely thougth of him as a person. As someone from whom she would ask anything? Haha. "Wha- Catherine!"

"James. Jim" She sound displeased as if she can go to him demanding favors and Hopper has to jus accept. "Richard got a great opportunity! We need to attend this dinner in Chicago with some partners and shareholders, just for one night. Would take Steven with us, but..."

She makes a gesture. As fend off a fly. Does not complete her sentence either. Hopper would be impressed if he wasn't so furious.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. Grabs and drags Catherine to her fancy car, far enough from Steve, so the boy would not listen them. God, he looks tiny from certain distance, the way all children look. As Sara looked. Hopper needs another beer, needs them to leave.

"What the fuck?! It does... Shit, Cat! Its been years. YE-ARS! The last time, the last thing I heard from you and Harrington, God, I can not even remember and now... And now you, what? Want me to take of your son? A boy I've never seen? Hell! I did not know the kid existed until I got back to Hawkins!"

Hopper took a deep breath. Calmer, he says:

"I do not even know if I can still consider you my sister. What makes you think I would be a good "uncle"? Caring of any child?"

"You had one, did not you?"

Hopper is choked up.

"Did you know about Sara?"

Catherine grimaced as she rolled her eyes.

"Of course I knew about your daugther, my... I am so sorry for your loss. I can not imagine how horrible it must be. I-I wanted to go to the funeral, but I did not know if I would be welcome. I sent flowers."

Diane took care of it. Hopper couldn't bear to look at all the flowers, dishes and condolences gifts sent to their home. Catherine touched his hand.

"Listen Jim, I would not ask you this if I wasn't desperate. Richard thinks a 'sitter is a waste of money and I need to be with him. You are literally the only person I can count on in this town, James."

Fuck her. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

"You will pick him up tomorrow, right?"

★⭑✩ ⭑ ★ ⭑ ☆ ⭑★⭑☆⭑★⭑☆⭑★⭑☆⭑★

"You know she is not coming to pick me up tomorrow, don't you?"

The boy frightens Hopper. Since his mother left him more than an hour ago he has been silent. He sat on the couch and watched the news with the same enthusiasm as any other boy his age: none.

Hopper patted the kid, trying to give some comfort.

"I'm sure she will come, kiddo."

Steve laughed.

"Sure, sir, if you say."

[thirtecnth]

(Sarah Gadon) THE BIBLIOPHILE. Please welcome BEVERLY TORRANCE  (SHE/HER) to Huntsville, WV. They are a 32-year-old VISITOR who lives in TOWN. You may see them around working as a ENGLISH/HISTORY TEACHER AT HUNTSVILLE HIGH. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

( *tw - religious trauma, parental abuse, emotional/physical abuse mention )

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Beverly Elise Torrance NICKNAMES: Bev, Bevy, Bevs, Miss Beverly, Eve, Evs AGE: 32 years old DATE OF BIRTH: September 13th SEXUALITY: Straight(?) Bisexual STATUS: Gatherer

APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 5′ 4″ HAIR: Blonde EYE COLOR: Blue

BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Saint George, Utah INCOME STATUS: Upper Class (previous) FATHER: John Torrance MOTHER: Judith Torrance SIBLINGS: Gideon Torrance ( younger ), Arthur Torrance ( younger ), Elizabeth Torrance ( younger ) SIGNIFICANT OTHER: N/A HOBBIES: Reading, writing, collecting antique novels, fashion, hiking, bird watching

TRAITS

[+] Affable, Imaginative, Sociable [-] Weak-willed, Worrisome, Hesitant

STORY POINTS

Bev grew up in a small town outside Saint George. She’s a small-town girl at heart but her dreams were always larger than that. 

She wanted to explore and see the world -- be in the same places that her favorite authors always wrote. Because of this, she frequently found herself exploring her town and neighboring for new secret spots.

Her family was well off, she was always taken care of and so were her siblings. The only thing was that they were also highly religious and frequently took them all to church.

They were strict on her when it came to any relationship. It got to the point of detriment when she began to find any interest in boys. She was never a very shy girl and loved to spend time with people, but her parents always assumed the worst.

It grew to a head when they forced her to date an older boy from their church rather than anyone else she had taken an interest in. He had proposed after about 5 months and they stayed that way for quite some time. It was in this relationship that she was emotionally / physically abused.

The final straw came when she caught him cheating on her. The second it happened, she left everything and went to a college far, far, away from Saint George. She would often write to her siblings, but she never spoke to her parents again. They tried to call, but only ever filled up her inbox.

Her passion for writing and reading only grew. She found herself double majoring in Education and English with a passion for becoming a teacher. Her parents were no longer supporting her, so it was a long and difficult route, but when she found herself finally at graduation, it was a beautiful experience. She didn’t need anyone else. She had herself.

However, she frequently overly criticized herself. She didn’t think anything she did was any better than anything anyone else could do. It was hard. It took the help of a friend in college for her to realize how good she actually was when it came to writing and possibly teaching English.

When it was all finished and she had finally become what she always dreamed of, she searched for something familiar and eventually stumbled upon Huntsville in 2017. By then, she had a passion for teaching and experience-- so she had a great feeling about starting here... Now, she's just constantly searching for ways to keep her students safe.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

1. Siblings: Perhaps they also wanted a chance at getting away from their parents and wanted to find Beverly. She wrote and called them frequently, so their relationship would've been close before the contact suddenly stopped, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t feel abandoned by her and didn’t know why she left in the first place. 

2. Childhood Friend / Old Classmate: Someone who, by coincidence, found themselves in the same town. Beverly had been the Prom Queen her senior year, so she was rather well-known in town. It must have been a wonder as to why she would have left. Maybe they lost touch!

3. Students / Past Students: I’m sure she would be rather close with all of her students -- study sessions and discussing things with them would come naturally. She also is a huge fan of helping them if they’re having trouble in real life rather than student life. (Think the teacher who always let you eat in their classroom and had peanut butter, bread, and jelly if you were hungry.)

4. Coworkers: She loves to get in touch with them for collaborations or even for drinks at night. It’s a way for her to relax and get to know the people she’s around. Honestly, just a bubble of happy mom-friend energy. Love it.

5. Exs: She would have had a kind of boyfriend that she dated before him and was probably forced to break up with him... Maybe it's time to rekindle that kindness. Easily could have boyfriends from college that showed up too.

…More to come, I’m sure!

[skippyv20]

No mention of Prince William !

Telegraph Article 

'The Spencer family are known for leading with their hearts, not their heads'

The Prince is the latest in a long line of rebels – a legacy stretching for centuries

ByKate Wills18 December 2022 • 8:00am

A headstrong redhead causing scandalous rifts with the Royal family and courting publicity all the while. No, not just Harry, but many of his great-great-great-great-ancestors, too. 

In his Netflix show, Harry has been reasserting how much he is his “mother’s son”, making decisions that are “all heart”. And although it seems like Harry is breaking with tradition by starting a new life in California, in many ways the Prince is actually just following in the footsteps of his maternal family, the Spencers, living out a rebellious legacy that stretches back through the centuries.

“The Spencers are difficult,” the Queen Mother once observed to a friend, according to Tina Brown’s biography The Diana Chronicles. And that’s certainly one way of putting it. Harry’s family tree on the Spencer side is full of unconventional disruptors who craved glamour, challenged the status quo and ripped up the royal rule book.

“Harry’s lineage is a really fascinating mix of royalty, aristocracy and glamorous, rich heiresses,” says historian Dr Carolyn Harris, author of Raising Royalty: 1000 Years of Royal Parenting. “The house of Spencer can be traced all the way back to sheep farmers in medieval times.” But there’s royal blood in the Spencer clan, too.

“He is descended from not one, but two illegitimate children of King Charles II of England: Henry Fitzroy and Charles Lennox, via two of his great-great-grandmothers, Adelaide Seymour and Rosalind Bingham,” adds Harrison. 

“Then also on his mother’s side there are American links, so in a way, Harry is getting back to his roots by settling in California. Diana’s maternal great-grandmother, Frances Ellen Work, was an American heiress who divorced her husband in 1891 on the grounds of desertion. It was a high-profile case that appeared in all the newspapers at the time.”

Albert Edward John Spencer in 1922 with his daughter, Lady Anne Spencer, (centre), and his sister, Lady Margaret Spencer CREDIT: Hulton Archive

Harry clearly identifies very strongly as a Spencer, Harris points out, “and we can draw many parallels between the unconventional path that he’s taken and that of his ancestors, as well as the clever way many of them used the media to their own advantage”.

For example, one of the first Spencers to cause a royal ruckus was Robert Spencer, the 2nd Earl of Sunderland. In the 1670s, he orchestrated King Charles II’s secret pact with France and also became one of James II’s closest advisers, known for his diplomacy, but also his duplicity.

“Nearly 300 years on, my father would talk about him with an ashamed, resigned chuckle,” Charles, the present Earl Spencer, writes in The Spencers: A Personal History of an English Family. Robert was known to be “cunning, supple [and] shameless” with “a restless and mischievous temper, and an abject spirit”; Harry may be starting a new life in California, but maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

With her rose-gold hair and blue eyes, Lilibet Diana is “very Spencer-like”, according to Harry – just like him and his mum. But that’s not all the youngest member of the Montecito Mountbatten-Windsors stands to inherit from that side of the family. Just as, one day, her young cousins may show traits of the Middleton clan, so Lilibet will undoubtedly find genetics playing a part in her life, just as they have in Harry’s.

“Harry is extremely proud of his Spencer heritage, as was his mother, who spoke to him about it at great length when he was growing up,” says Ingrid Seward, royal commentator and editor of Majesty magazine. “The Spencer family are known for being outspoken, all action, leading with the heart, not the head. Not only does Harry look very Spencer with his red hair, but he calls his aunts Sarah and Jane his ‘red aunts’.”

With the bushy ginger beard he is currently rocking, Harry certainly resembles his ancestor John Spencer, the 19th-century politician who was known as the “Red Earl”. But the Spencer trait of auburn locks – and shaping royal history – can actually be traced a few generations back, to Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough.

Played by Rachel Weisz in the Oscar-winning film The Favourite, Sarah started as a maid in the court of James II and became the most powerful woman in England through her manipulative control of Queen Anne. In 1700, Sarah arranged the marriage of her distant relation Charles Spencer, the future 3rd Earl of Sunderland, to her favourite daughter, Anne.

Lady Sarah McCorquodale and Lady Jane Fellowes, who Harry calls his 'red aunts' CREDIT: Shutterstock

Centuries before the modern Diana and Prince Charles wed, Sarah attempted to marry her favourite granddaughter – the original Lady Diana – to the broke Frederick, Prince of Wales, with a promise of a £100,000 dowry. The plan fell through after King George II was warned by his prime minister to find a wife “less politically threatening” for his son.

And Harry’s current family feuds have antecedents. Sarah ended up falling out with her granddaughter Anne and disinheriting her grandson Charles, 5th Earl of Sunderland. Alexander Pope said of her: “Full sixty years the World has been her Trade,/ The wisest Fool much Time has ever made./ From loveless youth to unrespected age,/ No Passion gratify’d except her Rage.” Harry would probably say she just needed a good therapist.

Then there’s Diana’s great-great-great-great-aunt Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire. The daughter of John, 1st Earl Spencer and his wife, Margaret, the teenage Georgiana became a sensation in 18th-century London. But she found that her cold, older husband was not as interested in her as everyone else (remind you of anyone?)

Like Harry in his youth, Georgiana had a reputation for hard partying – she was a gambling addict with a laudanum dependency who was always having to borrow money. Scandal turned to calamity when Georgiana became pregnant by the future prime minister Charles Grey and she was banished to France.

Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire, was famous for her beauty, political campaigning, gambling and unorthodox domestic arrangement CREDIT: Hulton Fine Art Collection

But Georgiana set the fashions of the day – popularising French hair powder and tall hairstyles among other trends – and also campaigned tirelessly for the Whig party, while the newspapers documented her every move. “You live so constantly in public you cannot live for your own soul,” her mother, Lady Spencer, wrote to her.

The Spencer tendency to choose passion over propriety is strong in Diana’s immediate family, too. Her mother, the heiress Frances Roche, was quickly disillusioned with country life as a young aristocratic mother. “I’m so bloody bored with opening village fetes,” she told a friend. It was no wonder that the fiery Frances wanted more from life. “She was very attractive and blonde and sexy with such joie de vivre and fun about her,” a friend told Brown for The Diana Chronicles.

By the 1960s, Frances escaped to London and started an affair with married bon vivant and wallpaper heir Peter Shand Kydd. She separated from Diana’s father and fought for custody of the children but lost, partially due to her own mother, Baroness Fermoy, who testified against her. Social outcasts, the Shand Kydds eventually moved to the coast of Scotland.

Diana’s older sister Lady Sarah McCorquodale also inherited this rebellious Spencer spirit. According to Brown’s book, she was kicked out of boarding school and once rode her horse into her grandmother’s living room. Sarah had her own romance with Prince Charles, and introduced her younger sister to him.

Diana spoke to Harry at great length about his Spencer heritage when he was growing up CREDIT: Tim Graham

Then there’s Diana’s younger brother Charles, who has seven children from three marriages and is known for speaking his mind. At his speech at Diana’s funeral, he famously pledged that “we, your blood family, will do all we can to continue the imaginative and loving way in which you were steering these two exceptional young men, so that their souls are not simply immersed by duty and tradition, but can sing openly, as you planned”.

His daughters are certainly singing their own tune. The model Kitty Spencer, 31, recently wed multimillionaire businessman Michael Lewis, 63 (five years older than her father). “Sometimes I feel like my family should be on The Jerry Springer Show,” she once said. “From the outside, the structure looks so dysfunctional. However, every single member of my family is part of my happiness.”

So, what clues can we glean about Harry’s future from how his famous forebears ended up? Although – like Harry – many of them were banished or exiled or moved abroad, nearly all of them ended up coming back to the royal court. Whether it’s dynasty or destiny, there’s no doubt we can expect many more surprises from this Spencer.

Does Prince Harry's ‘Spencer gene’ hold the key to his rebellious past and future? Please let us know in the comments below

Related Topics

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, 

Princess Diana, 

The Royal Family

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Fascinating! Thank you!!!! ❤️

[sarahpetersonruiz]

BIRTH NAME :  Sarah Sofía Ruíz

ALIAS  /  NICKNAME : S, Sunshine (by Andrew), Dream Girl (by Gale)

AGE : 36

DATE  OF  BIRTH : 25th October 1986

PLACE OF BIRTH : East Haven, VT

HOMETOWN : East Haven, VT

TIME IN EAST HAVEN : 36 years. Born and raised, baby.

RESIDENCE : Sutherland Park

Bio TW : alcohol, drug addiction, death, violence

EDUCATION : BA (Hons) in American Literature & Creative Writing

OCCUPATION : Manager at Book Haven

GENDER : Female

PRONOUNS : She/Her

SEXUALITY : Bisexual

FACECLAIM : Aubrey Plaza

HAIR COLOR : Brunette

EYE  COLOR : Brown

HEIGHT : 5'5

LANGUAGES : English, Spanish, ASL, Latin, Ancient Greek

TATTOOS : A quote from her favourite poet, Dorothy Parker, inside her wrist - “To hell, my love, with you”

PIERCINGS : Ears

POSITIVE  TRAITS : Intelligent, fiercely loyal, honest

NEGATIVE TRAITS : Reclusive, intimidating, sarcastic

PHOBIAS : Water, public speaking

FEARS : Losing her siblings, dying alone, losing Gale and Klaus

HOBBIES : Reading, writing poetry, drinking, listening to music

HABITS : Drumming her fingers, smoking, rolling her eyes

FATHER : Mateo Ruiz

MOTHER : Lucía Lopez

SIBLINGS : Three sisters

PARTNERS : Gale Peterson

EXES: Andrew Jackson Gale Peterson (period of five years)

CHILDREN : Klaus Peterson (adopted)

PETS : None

BIOGRAPHY

Early Life

When Sarah was a child, her teachers used to call her Matilda. She wasn’t magical, and she didn’t have a principal who would throw her around by her pigtails, but she had a love for education that even the adults thought was peculiar. At the age of six, she was received an autism diagnosis, which seemed to make sense to everyone but Sarah. Some teachers spoke to her like she was hard of hearing, when she understood things probably better than they did. Eventually, Sarah tried her best to mask her autism by copying the social cues of her younger sister and her peers, blending in as much as she possibly could. Finding this exhausting, Sarah often sat at the side with a book in her hand, creating a new world for herself where she could just be her.

Her home life could, at times, be compared to Matilda’s. Her father left when Sarah was four. Like most things, she remembered it vividly, because he had taken her to the park and hesitated to make conversation over a melting ice cream cone. It was the first time they had properly spent time together - she just didn’t realise it would be the last. Sarah’s mother, Lucía, didn’t deal with it well. She drank, cried, and drank some more. The drink eventually turned to other narcotics, and then eventually a cocktail of Class A drugs. At first, Sarah tried to help her, but she knew when she wasn’t wanted. Instead, she just fell back into the books. At least the words would never leave her.

Sarah’s mom eventually got over her father the way most women do - by getting under another man. And another. And another. It was like a revolving door of men with loose ties, reddening cheeks and tousled hair leaving their small apartment. Occasionally, Sarah would end up eating breakfast with one, staring blankly at them across a plate of eggs.

It wasn’t a complete loss, however. Sarah eventually gained three siblings. Penelope was first - who she shared a father with. Dana and Marnie came after, during her mom's rambunctious periods which resulted in them having different fathers, but it didn’t matter to her. Sarah was fiercely protective over her siblings, and she felt it was her duty to protect them from harm.

Teenage Years

It was strange how someone could go from being a Matilda in elementary school to being “uncooperative and unkind” in high school, according to her teachers. Her English teacher, however, was fascinated with how Sarah had a striking ability to remember and recall all different types of information, prompting her school to believe she had an eidetic memory. Doing some research, she learned that this was rare, and would probably require a home visit, so she covered this up as well as she could, too - dumbing herself down to a 'normal' level and becoming even quieter in school. As Sarah got older, she became more and more disillusioned with the world of East Haven. It didn’t help that Sarah was known as a freak in school due to her intelligence and shy nature. Kids would pick on her, often tripping her up in the corridor or stealing her books and ripping pages out, knowing that she wouldn't respond. Her younger and fiercer sister Penelope would often deal with the bullies for her. She didn’t let it bother her - she just went back to her fantasies about finally getting out of East Haven and leaving the shit-for-brains in high school. However, she did have some friends. Daisy Levitt was her best friend, to be exact, despite the fact that they came from different worlds. Daisy was beautiful, popular and kind. People loved her, and Sarah always wondered why she had chosen to be her friend. Of course, they were similar in more unfortunate ways than Sarah had ever considered, but they didn't know about this until later in their friendship. She opened up to her, and was surprised with how Daisy never seemed to think she was weird for being different.

Sarah had another best friend - if he could be called that. Andrew Jackson. It was like a sad teen movie from the early-2000s. Sarah was head over heels from the moment she laid eyes on him. Maybe it was because he was the only one who didn’t pick on her. Maybe it was because he smiled at her in the hallway when everyone else looked through her. Whatever the reason, she struck up some sort of alliance with him, although she wanted so much more. Eventually, the two began what she thought was a relationship, and he became her first everything. He dominated all of her thoughts, and she couldn’t wait for the day that he told his friends and they could finally be open about their relationship. Only, of course, that day never came. Instead, Andrew unceremoniously broke up with her on a random Thursday and he never looked at her in the hallways again. It was Sarah's first, but unfortunately not the last, experience of heartbreak.

College Days

Sarah had been accepted at a variety of colleges which included Brown and NYU. She had been anxiously debating which to go with, when she got the news - her mom was pregnant again. Her second-eldest sister, Nel, was only fifteen, and Dana was only ten. She wasn't going to leave her to raise a baby alone as she knew her mom would be incapable. Instead of fulfilling her wishes of moving to a different state and finally becoming the person she knew she was supposed to become, Sarah stayed in East Haven and went to the Heywood University so she could help her family. She was used to making sacrifices for her family, and she would continue to do so for as long as they needed her, including Penelope's accident.

Gale Peterson

Sarah eventually got a job in Book Haven, which turned out to be like her second home. She loved being surrounded by the things she loved the most, even if she had to tear herself away from the literature to serve customers. Every day was monotonously the same, until a young deaf boy got lost in the store. Sarah, being fluent in ASL, was able to help him find his father. They got to talking, and soon Sarah found out his name was Gale, and they exchanged numbers. After date one, Sarah knew she was in love. The two became inseparable after that, and Sarah soon moved in with Gale and Klaus and they became their own version of a family. Five years later, and Sarah truly believed that she had found her happily ever after. That was, until, Gale was attacked on duty and he almost lost his life. After that, he was never the same. He became more aggressive, and they started fighting more than they ever had. Eventually, Gale could see that they weren't happy anymore and he broke up with Sarah. She went from having her perfect family to having something broken. Just like before.

Present Day

Sarah never ended up leaving East Haven, but that ended up becoming a blessing rather than a curse. She rekindled with Gale after he took some time to figure out what he needed, and the two quickly got engaged. She became Klaus's legal mother through adoption, and they are on their way to becoming a truly happy family. She has hopes of returning to college to complete a Masters in Greek Classics and extend their family. Sarah constantly has a voice in the back of her head telling her that it is too good to be true, and she is waiting for something to come along and ruin her dreams, just like it always does. Until that moment, she's just going to enjoy it.

One day at a time.

TLDR:

Born and raised in East Haven

Father left when she was 4. Raised by a drug addicted mother.

Has 3 sisters - Penelope, Dana and Marnie

Is incredibly intelligent, but never had the opportunity to get tested or evaluated. Got accepted to many colleges across the country and beyond, but ultimately stayed in EH to look after her siblings, including her newborn sister.

Fell in love with Gale Peterson and helped to raise his son. They broke up after five years, but rekindled recently and got engaged.

INSPIRATIONS: Robin Scherbatsky (How I Met Your Mother); Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn 99); Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds); Emily Prentiss (Criminal Minds); Nina Riva (Malibu Rising); April Ludgate (Parks and Recreation); Harper Spiller (White Lotus).

[xgryffinwhore]

red light richie

summary: richie was the schools play boy, until he met y/n, and became anything and everything she needed.

warnings : light smut, getting drunk, lots of fluff,soft richie, angst if you squint DIDNT READ THROUGH SO SORRY FOR ANY SPELLING/GRAMMAR

word count: 2.5k

“oh FUCK richie! i’m cumming!”

she screamed, riding out her orgasm on richies member. richie followed, his seed spilling into the fucked-out girl.

riiiing. third period ended.

“thanks for a good time- uh…” molly? ella? kim, was it? “sarah” the girl rolled her eyes and threw on her pink polo. “sarah-sarah! right yeah thanks sar, you’re a real good time!” richie fastened his Levi buckle and open the door of the storage closet.

he waved her off “thanks sarah, i had a great time can’t-“ he was cut off by eddie and stan “wait to do that again!” they chuckled. the girl huffed and hurried to her class.

“you know, you guys make me look like a real tool sometimes.” “rich, you ARE a real tool” eddie popped a babe ruth in his mouth “and anyway, you said her finish face was weird.” richie slung his back pack on his right shoulder as the three of them headed into english “yeah ok- not as bad as eddies moms face though.” stan and richie laugh as they sit into their seats.

the three of them chit chat amongst themselves until Mrs. Randy hushes the class. “everyone settle down, we have a new student today. please give a warm welcome to y/n, she’s come all the way from arizona.” the class scanned the new student, it was dead silent in the room.

“how was arizona?” greta asked, her voice faker then ever. “hot” y/n said, Mrs. Randy ushered y/n to the empty seat behind richie. as she came closer richies senses where filled with lust. automatically he knew she was attractive , anyone could see that, right in the middle of pretty and hot. her scent made his eyes go fuzzy, he got a whiff as she crushed against his shoulder on accident, she had a sweet smell, like sugar and vanilla. “sorry” y/n whispered, richie turned around and smiled “collide with me any time you’d like toots.” a red ring complied on her cheeks as she nodded her head bashfully.

all richie could do the rest of the school day was think about ways to maker her his. he wanted to know her, he needed to. he wondered what bands she liked, and what her favorite soda was. he thought about what she looked like in a dress, and how she looked when she got out of the shower. he imagined them dancing, them driving, them cuddling.

richie waited out in the student parking lot, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of y/n. he watched as she walked out of the school and headed toward a bus. he didn’t even mean to, but he ran toward her, cutting her off before she got on.

“y/n hey” richie said, breathless.

“richie from english, hi” the cute girl blushed “you seem to be in the way of me and my ride home.” richie looked at the bus driver and back at her “i can take you home if you’d like” he blurted out “trust me, you don’t want to ride the school bus.” she took him up on the offer.

“woah, nice ride” y/n ogles at the drop top, what can richie say? ladies love convertibles. “what? this old thing?” richie smirks as he opens the door for her. “say, where do you live anyway?” “sycamore lane, last house” richie has been down that road a few times, not all the way, the big houses made him feel like shit. it was on the edge of derry, about a half an hour from the school.

“well since we have all of this time, tell me about yourself sweet heart” her face blushed at this cheesy pet names, he absolutely adored that. “hang out with me and find out” her tone was flirtatious, she turned up his stereo. he rolled his tongue against his teeth, this girl was going to drive him crazy. they spoke about their interests, their families, what they want to be. the more she spoke, the more he because absolutely enamored.

“yeah kiss is ok but i prefer billy idol-wait rich you’re going to pass my road!” richie hit the breaks and made a sharp right turn. he headed down the street slowly, trying his best to drag out the time they had together. sadly it was short lived, the neighborhood wasn’t very long. he stopped in front of a yellow house, it had pretty pink flowers hanging from the windows and a white picket fence.

“so what does toizer mean anyway?” y/n asked “you’re license plate” she opened the door and went around to the driver side window. “toizer is my last name; richie toizer” she tilted her head in acknowledgment. “well toizer, thanks for the ride. look me up in the phone book, and call me.”

after richie waved her goodbye, watched her walk inside, and drove far enough so her house couldn’t be seen: he drove home so fast he was afraid he ran over a child. his mind was finding this beautiful girls u in the phone book. the only issue was that richie could t exactly remember your last name.

you see, he remembered the first half, but he was too busy pairing his last name with your first that he sort of forgot…

“it can’t be that difficult; i have her first name and most of her last” he spoke to his star wars plushie on his shelf. “ i mean how many y/n l/ns can their be?”

that was an understatement, there were about a hundred y/ns with somewhat similar last names; this was going to be more difficult then he had thought.

“fuck it yoda, we’re trying all of em”

“hi y/n it’s richie” “who?”

“y/n! richie here” “i’m sorry you must have the wrong number”

“y/n?” “yes?” he threw his head back in excitement “it’s richie toizer!” the women on the other end of the receiver scoffed “you sure have a lot of nerve calling me up! AFTER HITTING MY MAIL BOX WITH A BASE BALL BAT YOU-“ he quickly put the phone back on the land line.

after a few moments of reflection about the time him and mike went mail box-hitting; he dialed up stan the man.

“standard!” stan sighed “what do you want richie?” richie flipped through the pages of the book “met this girl today, drove her home n’ told me to look her up in the phone book but their are about a million chicks with the same name!” richie could hear stan head-palming through the static noise “richie you drove her home you know her address right..” “well yeah” “well dipshit, on the right of the name, it says their addresses!” stan hung up the receiver to leave richie with his stupidity.

finally, y/n l/n 34 sycamore lane, he dialed the numbers so fast he was afraid he’d got it wrong.

ring…

ring…

ring…

“hello?” god her voice was sweeter then he’d remembered.

“l/n, the infamous” he could here her stifle a giggle. “richie trash mouth toizer, what a pleasure” richie twirled the chord around his finger “asking around about me eh?” “i had to know who i’m dealing with toizer.” richie laid on his back and put a hand behind his head “awe toots you care about me? so sweet” “shut it rich”

the call was long enough to raise the phone bill, 2 in the morning rolled around and you hours weren’t even tired. “doll face as much as i’d love to keep talking- we have school tomorrow -today technically- and you should really get to bed.” “fine, if i have to” you protested “good night richie” “good night y/n.”

the loser club sat at the lakeside the next day, it was packed as usual. "i dont understand why we had to come here instead of the quarry" eddie complained "this is so public, i mean this is open water- so many more germs and animals." richie unrolled the huge towel they all planned to sit on "because eds, y/n told me she might be here with her family."

they waited, the hours went by slow.

11am

12pm

1pm

2pm

and finally at three, richie noticed his the girl, in a beautiful sundress holding the hand of a small boy. her smile felt electric, sending waves of butterflies into riches spine. he could faintly hear her laugh from the distance, he fought back standing up and running. only stan and eddie had seen her face, so when she came closer, richie made it a point that everyone looked. "she'd never go for you rich" bev stated "y-yeah, p-p-please duh-dont corrupt another w-women" bill ended. richie rolled his eyes at his friends petty comments, sure, he knew you were a dime a dozen but cmon, he wasnt that bad.

richie made his way over to you, picking up the chair you were struggling to carry. "hi, rich!" you bent down lower to the young boy "can you say hi richie?" the little boy looked up at richie who towered over him "hello richie." richie bent down and gave him a high five "sup squirt!" and came up to greet you "hello gorgeous."

introducing you to the losers was easy, they loved you instantly, they also embarrassed the crap out of richie. every story that was 'off limits' was told, to him it was mortifying, but to you it was cute.

after the day at the beach it was hard to get you two away from each other: he gave you rides everywhere, showed you every spot in derry he knew, took you to every place to eat, even read with you in the library. it was extremely hard not to fall for richie toizer-and it was vice versa for you. it took every fiber in his being to not tell you he loved you the first day he met you- richie isnt a romantic but after you he did in fact believe in love at first sight. spending all of this time with you proved to him that sometimes soulmates just meet randomly, and as HE puts it "its fuckin awesome." you two had only been going out a few weeks, but you both knew it was just the beginning of something so much more.

it was going swimmingly, you two were two pees in a pod. the boys at derry high school were jealous, richie came in quick and snatched you before anyone else could have a look. "its so not far" david berch said "richie is a man whore- a slob- he doesnt deserve her! if only she knew" boys talked, their jealously got the best of them and began openly speaking about richies past shenanigans.

you heard things in the hall, things in the bathroom, when you went out. 'did you hear: 'y/n is going out with ribbed richie' 'i wonder if she care about his body count.' you were the type to think that the concept of virginity is superficial, it shouldnt matter, but why didnt richie tell you about his past? why was he hiding it from you?

without consciously doing it, you distanced yourself from richie. you felt misled, form your conversations with him, he had set himself out to be some guy who doesnt really have a past with girls. you felt lied to. richie wasnt handling the space well, he would constantly call you, he missed you.

there was a party a week later at some foot ball players house- you didnt know, it didnt matter. you hadnt ever really had a thing so great as you did with richie, you just wanted to get drunk and feel good. you had gotten their pretty late, it was already 12 when you arrived and people were off the rails drunk. you searched the crowded house for the drink table, it ended up being in the kitchen, with a dark haired by slouched over it.

"are you ok?" you yelled over the music, he didnt get up so you slung him over your shoulder and took him into a spare room. you dropped him on the bed and his hair flew back, exposing his face. "oh you've got to be fucking kidding."

"y/n!" richie slurred "m' girl i missed you" he gave you a hug and fell right back down. "do you need water? are you ok?" you questioned, his drunken smirk made you blush. "come here now toots, rich missed you" he patted next to him. you sat, he put his arm on the back of your neck and straightened his posterior.

"m' sorry for whatever i did y/n, but i love ya mk?" you became flustered, before you could respond, he was kissing you. it was needy, you could feel how much he missed you. his hand traveled down your back has he laid you down. your lips were interlocking and he swore you were an angel.

before it got too good, you felt his hand go between your legs and a sense of anger filled you as you remembered why you werent talking to him. "rich stop." you pushed him off, he was confused "what? why?"

"red light richie, im sorry but no, we cant." he kissed you neck "its ol y/n, i know what im doing" "-oh i know you fucking know." he was off you now, a thin layer of sweat coated his forehead and he rubbed his temple "aw fuck- did someone say something-" you cut him off "YEAH, a lot of people said a lot of things. and id never judge some on that, but you didnt tell me. no cool. im not cool with being used rich!"

he threw his head back in frustration, his fingers dragging down his face "fuuuck me, im so sorry." he grabs your hand and holds in close to his knee "id never use you sweetheart, you mean too much to me. before you id never loved, i just took and hurt. you showed me that giving is what i need-fuck y/n- i just want to keep giving and giving to you. all i want is you, i dont care if you dont wanna fuck, i dont care if you want to go slow. i'll wait, and even if you never want to i'll be ok with that toots, just as long as you dont leave."

he kissed you hand softly, and you pulled him in. you were his and he was yours, it was so clear.

it happened fast, as falling does, and its strong, and it always will be.

<IM SORRY THE ENDING IS SO CHEESY BUT I NEEDED TO POST>

[jwnchstr]

The German Boy | s.v05

summary: you are a traveler. lost in german. sebastian vettel helps you find your way back.

characters: sebastian vettel, you/reader

warning: broken german deutsch because i just started learning the language. and call me stupid, but i did refer google lol

other fic masterlists | f1 masterlist

*  *  *

   half an hour ago, you were with a group of your friends as you promised to discover germany together with them. they came from different countries and, not that you can’t work alone, but sometimes you really can use some friends especially in a counry where english is not their native language.

     you were walking together with them, en route to berlin’s brandenberg gate. emily, tsuki and sarah are laughing together (talking about someone’s ugly fashion, if you’re not mistaken) when your eyes caught a huge grafitti poster on the wall. the infamous german F1 drivers: michael schumacher, nico hulkenberg, nico rosberg and sebastian vettel himself. all are proudly representing deutschland.

     when you finally snapped out of your tance, got back to reality, you realised that you’ve lost your friends. emily, tsuki and sarah are nowhere near. like a mad human, you looked around in circle and started to panic.

     this is not your first time traveling by yourself. yes, that’s right, but with barely knowing german deutsch and barely understood their language, it can still cause you hypervelenting.

     you took your time collecting yourself at the sidewalk as people pass by without taking a second glance at you. the locals are busy with their phone. other tourists are busy reading the maps. kids are busy with their ice-cream while joking around with their siblings. when you’ve calmed down, you started to rummage your bag to find your own copy of map and german deutsch dictionary.

     thing is, three weeks before your flight to germany, you took an initiative to learn the language via an app. you know it’s still a futile effort, but the app still taught you just as many simple sentences as you’d want. but you’re talking about being panic in a foreign country, right now and you realise what you learnt was useless. clueless when reading the map, you finally decided to ask around.

     you looked up from your map. you saw a man in his early 30s, talking to his friends in his mother tongue. instinct told you that he doesn’t know how to speak english, or at least a broken one. but you still approached him for help, anyway.

     “entsch-- entschuldigung!” you spoke in a weird accent. you were not sure if your pronunciation was right, but at least, that’s how you were taught in the app.

     the man -- who turned out to be cute though with his messy, blonde hair -- and his friends turned to you. an obvious confusion plastered on their forehead. probably wondering who is this trying-so-hard woman speaking in weird german deutsch. they didn’t respond. they were staring at you. you were not sure either they’d like to help you or not, but you continued.

     “um-- um-- spreichen... sie englisch? englisch? ja? nein?” you asked if they know english or not. you were desperate for help that you didn’t care if they were going to kidnap you or help you or laugh at you.

     “oh, man. this is fucking hard,” you muttered to yourself, looking everywhere,  but the man and his friend. they still got their eyes on you, judging you as a visitor and a burden to people. “please, god let them know english. englisch? spreichen sie eng--”

     the man started laughing out of the blue, causing your face to get hot. “yes. i know plenty of english and speak pretty well, too.” he smiled at you when you sighed.

     “oh, thank god!”

     “let me guess: you’re lost?” he politely asked. a small, but sweet smile plastered on his face like he couldn’t get any cuter.

     “oh! indeed, i am! i was here with some of my friends, but i don’t know... i got lost. i have to get to berlin’s burdenberg gate to reunite with them and i need your help for direction.” nervous, you were talking non-stop that caused the man to smile at you even bigger.

     “oh, come with us, then!” offered the man. “we are also heading there so.”

     “oh, super! danke! sehr danke!” you thanked him in german deutsch. he laughed at your cute face, but pretty impressed with your accent. after making sure his friends knew about you, you started to follow them walking towards the germany attraction.

     “your german is pretty good.”

     “oh, you’re just saying. i did like... a three-week class from this app and all they taught me is the same thing over and over again.”

     “slowly, but surely.” he gave you an encouraging smile. his grey eyes kind. “woher kommst du?”

     you understood him well, but it took you some time to answer to him in the same language. “(y/c/n). lebst du in hier?”

     “ich komme von hier aber nich hier leben.” he then continued in english when he realised that you didn’t understand his mother tongue to a certain extend. “my work requires me to travel often. but my parents are still here.”

     “was ist... dein arbeit?” you pulled a face as you laugh at your attempt. “i’m sorry. that doesn’t sound appropriate. i just wanted to ask what do you for a living, but it came out rude.”

     “no, no. it’s fine. it’s good for you to practice.” the conversation was cut off when the man’s friends asked him something in their native language, leaving you awkwardly looking everywhere except them. “sorry. they’re just asking about my schedule. where were we?”

     finally, there is the berlin’s brandenberg gate. it’s only a few more minutes to arrive and you’re happy with the thought of reuniting with your friends. not that you’re suspicious with your helper and his friends, not that you trust your friends 100% but the thought of seeing familiar faces excite you.

     the conversation was cut off again when both of you were trying to focus on the road since you need to cross them to reach the huge berlin’s brandenberg gate. and the sound of motorcycles revving, the loud sportscars engine, make it impossible for you to hear your helper’s voice so you decided to be quiet for a minute.

     however, as soon as you reach the berlin’s brandenberg gate, you realise that it’s even more imposossible for you to carry the conversation with him. the place is crowded. there were even more cars and they were everywhere. there were cameras flashing from all angles. the spotlights are focusing a little stage in the middle. you wondered what was happening.

     “was passiert?” you frowned, craning your neck as you studied the eventful place. it was so loud with a hard party music that the bass drummed in your chest.

     “ich bin es.” the man chuckled as he slowy backed away with his hands in his jeans and a big, amused smile on his face. “freut mich, schone dame! bis bald.”

     the way he and his friends blended in with the crowd looked as if he weren’t joking when he said that the crowd was for him. there was a spotlight that focus on the people on the low stage that made you wonder if they’re somehow local celebrities, but with how loud the crowd cheer, you know they aren’t local celebrities.

     you slowly approached the crowd. in between the heads of tall men in front, you saw several familiar faces that you thought you saw somewhere in the TV. the sponsored t-shirts that they’re wearing, too, seemed familiar. but who they are really? why are there so many racing cars? the headboard showed F1?

     of course, there is the obvious sign above their heads, but then, the host speaks one name. a name that belongs to someone that you saw on the wall. the one that made you froze and lost your friends. the one that helped you get here.

     “ladies and gentlemen! sebastian vettel!”

     your blood drawn from your face. you felt like fainting. you felt embarrassed. you call yourself fucking stupid! how could you not realise it’s him?