#that sits in the center of europe

[illgiveyouahint]

I have some heavy films on my watchlist but I feel like I can't watch anything too heavy right now

[howieabel]

“Many guilty consciences have been created by the slave trade. Europeans know that they carried on the slave trade, and Africans are aware that the trade would have been impossible if certain Africans did not cooperate with slave ships. To ease their guilty consciences, Europeans try to throw the major responsibility for the slave trade on to the Africans. One major author on the slave trade (appropriately titled Sins of Our Fathers) explained how many white people urged him to state that the trade was the responsibility of African chiefs, and that Europeans merely turned up to buy captives- as though without European demand there would have been captives sitting on the beach by the millions! Issues such as those are not the principal concern of this study, but they can be correctly approached only after understanding that Europe became the center of a world-wide system and that it was European capitalism which set slavery and the Atlantic slave trade in motion.” ― Walter Rodney, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa

[wearebarca]

Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character

Part 1 part 2 part 3

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 3,5K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Hello, Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

Her fingers were hovering over the multitudes of cameras lined up in the bookcase of her small living room. The balcony doors were opened and the cool night air filtered in the little apartment, along with the chants and cheers of the sea of supporters passing in the streets below. Nights like these had quickly become her favourite since moving to the heart of Barcelona. She would usually sit on the balcony and watch as the supporters would celebrate their club's win, filling the night air with happiness and excitement but tonight was slightly different though. An important match was currently being disputed at the Johan Cruyff Estadi, one that all the Barcelona Femini fans were looking forward to all year. El Classico was always an electric night and Rosalie had decided to experience this night out in the streets, instead of the comfort of her balcony chair.

Once out in the streets, She was immediately hit by a wave of excitement. She was instantly  swept in a sea of chanting people, all wearing jerseys and scarves with their team's logo. The crowd was so dense that all you could see were flashes of red and blue making the task of focusing on one subject a difficult one. She finally managed to exit the crowd and find a bench near a bus stop, high enough to have a clear view of the scene unfolding in front of her. This new vantage point allowed you to take numerous portraits of fans, capturing groups of friends in the middle of drunken laughs and barça chants. She instantly knew when the final whistle was blown and Barcelona had won the match. Excited screams could be heard all around and the ground was slightly shaking from the people jumping around in an ecstatic frenzy. Rosalie lowered her camera and took a moment to soak it all in. These were the moments that reminded her of why she had chosen sports photography as her career. This feeling of unity between fans, the shared excitement and hope as well as the solidarity displayed among the supporters even during darker times. Sports was something that brought people together, made them temporarily forget about their lives. She considered herself lucky to have a job that allowed her to capture such moments. 

Once back in the safety of her apartment, she plugged her camera to her computer and while the shots she took were transferring into her laptop. She pulled out the wine bottle that was already opened and sat on her couch. Next to her was a pile of clothes that consisted of her vintage oversized brown leather jacket, a tight black t-shirt and dark brown pleated pants. She had specifically picked out this outfit for her first day in her new job. Her camera bag sat next to the pile, only her laptop missing. Everything was ready, perfectly organized, almost obsessively. The stress of this new beginning was keeping her up which led the young woman to work on the shots she had taken during the night until she fell asleep in her living room. 

The drive to the training stadium wasn’t too long. She had left incredibly early to avoid traffic and ended up parking her car at the stadium and walking around the block. It wasn’t long until she stumbled upon a small cafe, not too far from the training center. The place looked cosy and inviting with all the plants and the picture frames. Upon a closer look, she noticed that they were all pictures of what she guest was regulars enjoying their coffees. The thought of so much history hanging on these walls made the French-Canadian smile as she went to stand in line to order. 

 Her Spanish was rather shaky which made the barista and the woman behind her chuckle lightly. But nonetheless she managed to order and pay without going completely red from embarrassment.  

“Americano para Rosalie” The french name sounds so foreign when spoken in the language and Rosalie almost felt bad for the barista and made a note to herself to use her spanish nickname when ordering in the future. 

 She picked up her coffee and as she was turning around to exit the small shop, her body collided with a solid one, making her spill half of her own coffee on herself. 

“oh Déu, ho sento, estàs bé?”

A tattooed had grabbed her elbow in an attempt to stabilize her, but the damage was done. The cup that was previously secured in her hand had spilled more than half of its content on her shirt and bag.  the tattooed woman turn to her partner “ Ingrid can you grab napkins please” 

She immediately took the napkins that were handed to her and started to dab at her bag in an attempt to prevent the liquid from seeping in and mess with her equipment. Busy trying to dry the coffee that had fallen on her work bag, Rosalie had failed to notice who exactly had bumped into her, but the names mentioned during her short encounter were oddly familiar. “ Are you ok? Did any get in your bag?” A tall dark haired woman was standing right in front of you with a worried smile and Rosalie could not believe her luck. She simply shook her head and smiled at the Norwegian while throwing the napkins away. 

“ I’m Ingrid, we’re very sorry about this, Maria’s a little clumsy.” She laughed at her own statement, knowing very well that “ a little” was a bit of an understatement. 

“ It’s ok, I can’t say that I was really looking where I was going” Rosalie said as she followed Ingrid outside the cafe to a small table near the entrance.  The Spanish woman exited the shop shortly after them with a tray with four cups of coffee. 

“ Asked the barista for your order, here you go.” The Spanish woman said with an apologetic smile on her lips. 

“ Thank you, you didn’t have to do that”

“ It was only fair since this one can’t be bothered to be aware of the world around her” she said, giving a playful glare to her partner. 

“ I’m Mapi, .” . 

“Oh I know who you are,” she said with a smile on her face. She wasn’t new to the football world, having played all the way to her college years. After graduation, she had gotten herself a job as an assistant photographer in  the  NWSL in America. She had travelled all around the United-States and became one of the best known sports photographers. Three years into the job, Rosalie received a call that would change her career forever.

Arsenal W.F.C was desperately looking to revamp its image and put the club on the map. Management had come across some of Rosalie’s dynamic shots and had contacted her to offer her a spot in the new media team that would follow the girls around during the season. Seeing this as the opportunity of a lifetime, she moved across the ocean. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and she absolutely loved it. She had built her strongest friendships over there, had fallen even more in love with job and football, but also experienced her most gut wrenching heartbreak. After her breakup, she had stayed with the team to finish her contract and then packed her flat without knowing what she would do next. She knew that going back toArsenal would not be a good idea since she would have to see the face of the woman that had broken her trust everyday, so she gave her notice and left a month to go hiking in Andalucia. It would be during this trip that she would get the call from FC Barcelona Femini. She would accept on the spot and after a quick apartment search she would have all her belongings shipped to her new address and fly straight to Barcelona, without anyone knowing about her new beginning. 

“ Sorry that came out a little strong,  I’m Rosalie Marineau, Barça’s new photographer.” She shook both their hands and started the few blocks walk towards the training facility.

“ Oh it is a pleasure to meet you, we were wondering when the new photographer would start. We were all excited after seeing some of your work with Arsenal, very impressive.” 

“Thank you so much but I should be the one who’s excited, it truly is an honour to work with such a strong and dedicated team Like Barça, I really can’t wait to start.” the woman said with a beaming smile. The walk back to the stadium was filled with conversation about the upcoming season, Rosalie's career and even strayed to her college football career. As the group reached the entrance of the training grounds, a voice made itself heard in the hallway. 

“ustedes chicas llegan tarde” A tall blond was leaning against the wall right next to the locker room door. She was wearing the gray half zip training shirt with matching shorts and her hair loose, fanning over her shoulders. Her arms were crossed, her boots in one hand and a stern expression was plastered on her face. In her mind, there was no way that this woman was not the captain of this team and indeed, a few moments later, Rosalie was standing face to face with Alexia Putellas. 

“ Quince minutos antes no significa tarde, Ale” The sigh that left the Catalonian’s lips was long and the look that came with the sound would make anyone shrink right on the spot. She propped herself up and with even sparing a glance in the direction of the photographer, she turned around and entered the locker room. 

“Maria, you might want to follow her, you don’t want her getting worse.” Ingrid said, pushing her girlfriend towards the same door the blond had previously disappeared in. The Spanish woman let out a sigh of her own before also disappearing into the room. “ Come with me, I’ll show you to the management's office.”

As Rosalie had predicted, her morning was all about paperwork officializing her new position as the head of the photography department. Ingrid ended up staying the whole time and even offered to show her to her new office. The office was located on the second floor of the building, which seemed a lot calmer than the lower level. Upon entering the office, Rosalie was surprised by how spacious the place was. The space was divided into two sections. The first had all the proper equipment at her disposal to hold photoshoots. Everything was brand new and of the highest quality, with some of the equipment still wrapped in their boxes. The second was closest to the windows, which gave a perfect view of the pitch, and was  half hidden behind screens to give the feeling of being in a completely different room. A desk with two large screens and a laptop launchpad, a comfortable looking chair and a small sofa occupied the space. 

A big smile was playing on Rosalie’s lips as she took in the space she would now work in. “ I hope you will feel right at home here.” Jonatan ​​Giràldez said as he came to stand beside the photographer. “ You can set up if you’d like, I’ll send someone to collect you so you can meet the team before lunch.” He said, once again extending his hand for her to shake. “ Welcome to the family, Senorita Marineau.” 

After a quick hug from Ingrid and a promise to talk more later, Rosalie pulled out her laptop and took a seat at her new desk. Looking out at the pitch she found the two women she was hoping to see. During her contract with Arsenal, she was asked to follow some of the players to the Lionesses camp to capture their journey. That’s where she had met her closest friends. When she met Keira Walsh, it was like something in the universe clicked. The rest of the England squad used to joke that the two of them were the same person but in different fonts, and they might as well have been right. The two women had the same awkward sense of humour and were able to guest what the other needed or wanted with having to express anything. 

Upon meeting the younger French-Canadian woman, Lucy Bronze had immediately felt a strong feeling of protectiveness. This feeling grew even more when one night the Canadian woman had shared with their small friend group that she wasn’t close to her family.  Maybe it was because she knew that the girl had nobody to count on, in England or even in her home country, but the woman started to treat the younger brunette like she was part of her family. She was like a big sister to Rosalie and loved the girl fiercely. The couple had become Rosalie’s family during her years in London, but the distance made it hard for them to see each other outside of camps. Still the girls kept in touch regularly and had facetime movie nights on a weekly basis. They were in fact the first ones Rosalie had told about her move, and she would be lying if one of the big reasons why she accepted so fast was because she knew her two best friends were playing for this team. 

Setting up her stuff wasn’t long. She had brought a few picture frames, mainly pictures of her, Lucy and Keira, of her, Beth, Viv, Leah and Lia, her closest Arsenal friends, that she put on her desk and plugged her camera and laptop to the screens. She still had about an hour and a half before lunch so she decided to finish editing the pictures from the night before. 

She knew someone was making their way towards her office just by the sound of football boots on the hard floors. Still, too engrossed in her work, Rosalie did not lift her head until a very familiar voice spoke. 

“You know, if you missed us this much, you could’ve called instead of stalking us all the way here.” She could recognize that strong northern accent anywhere. Leaning against her door frame, in the same training kit that Alexia was wearing, Lucy was smiling brightly at her friend. The smile on Rosalie’s face lit up the whole room and warmed up the English woman’s heart. It had been a while since she had seen her friend with a genuine smile on her face. She almost tumbled over trying to catch the smaller woman who had jumped in her arms. 

“Shouldn’t you be training?” A quick look behind her showed the pitch empty. 

“Everyone is in the gym, we figured we’d come get you to meet everyone now.” She said dragging the girl out of her office.

“Wait a minute,” she made a beeline to her office to grab the usb key containing the picture she wanted to give the media team and followed the woman out in the corridor. 

“How are you settling here? You know, we feel bad about not helping you move.” Rosalie understood perfectly well why Keira and Lucy weren’t able to come give her a hand. With the away games, training and media duty, the women were swarmed and didn’t get a minute to themselves. Still, the lack of extra pairs of arms and someone to push her meant that a lot of boxes remained untouched. 

“Don’t worry, I’m good.” She said with a small smile. By the look the older woman was giving her, Rosalie knew that her little lie didn’t go through. But Lucy chose to drop the subject knowing that pestering her friend was not the way to go in this situation. 

“I'll show you around the training center but first, everyone is in the gym so we can start there.” She said walking ahead of the brunette. “ The trainers wanted you to know that you have access to it whenever you want and if you'd like they can help you with your training.” 

“ What do you mean?” The French-Canadian was confused as she caught up with the taller woman. 

“ Well… when the news of your arrival came out, people started to ask questions. They found out who you were through management and they apparently told the girls to talk to us because we knew you.” Lucy said in an apologetic tone. She knew that even though her friend was well known in her field, she liked to keep her life private. “ We didn’t say much, don't worry, but we have some grade A stalkers in this team.” 

“ Oh mon dieu ,what did they find?” The brunette said, hiding her face behind her hands. She didn’t have anything crazy on her social media, but she did have a couple pictures from her college football career that looked a little weird along with some pictures of her races, triathlons and marathons that were surely not her best angles. 

“ Everything darling,” Lucy said laughing, “ They especially loved the beach pictures and the triathlon ones, you made quite the impression, Frenchy.” 

The girl could not be more mortified. Those pictures were not bad. In fact, she was quite proud of them, but it was the fact that the whole team had seen her in her bikini or dying during a race before actually meeting her. She simply wasn’t a fan of the fact that they knew so much already.  But then, it was only fair, she thought, since their whole lives were plastered in tabloïds and discussed in social media all the time. The difference was that the photographer had never been in their position.

Lucy chose this exact moment to open the door leading to the gym and Rosalie’s ears were instantly flooded with rapid spanish banter and that freshly cut grass smell that she loved. The room was extremely bright due to the fact that it had direct access to the pitch, which meant that a slight breeze from the outside kept the gym cool and fresh. Almost every station was occupied by players, sometimes alone, but mostly in pairs. The first one to notice their arrival was none other than Mapi, who was helping a certain captain keeping her balance on a platform. She waved excitedly which caused the blond to lose balance and almost fall to her face. The look she sent the Zaragozian would have scared anyone in their right mind. When she realized that her look didn’t get the reaction it deserved she turned her gaze to the source of her training partner’s distraction,  only to lock eyes with the photographer. 

The contact didn’t not last long since the commotion had caught everyone’s attention. They quickly formed a half circle around the girl, seemingly waiting for her to say a few words. 

“ hola,” Rosalie wasn’t a shy person but she was definitely intimidated by the women in front of her. A smile from the couple that she had met in the morning was the little push she needed to continue. “ My name is Rosalie Marineau and I am Barça’s new head photographer. I am very excited to work with all of you. " she said smiling "Don’t worry, I’ll always get your best angle.” 

Smiles filled the room and everyone stepped forward to introduce themselves. The first to reach the woman was Mariona who shook her hand and welcomed her. Next were Patri and Pina who both looked like over excited children. They both gave the girl hugs and started to ask different questions only to be pulled away by Irene and Aitana. The taller woman had a warm smile and a very calm demeanor that instantly made Rosalie feel at ease with her. The smaller woman pulled her in a hug and asked her about her  move and how she was settling in this new city.  

A voice she knew all too well interrupted the conversation and arms wrapped around the photographer from behind. As soon as she smelled the familiar perfume, the Canadian spun around and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “ Hello Frenchy''

Keira didn’t let go of the woman and gave an apologetic smile to the two Spanish players who smiled and left, understanding that this was a private reunion. “ I had to fight Lucy to go get you but the old hag still has some spunk in her.” 

The comment made Rosalie laugh and pull away without letting go completely of her friend. At this moment, Lucy arrived next to the blond and gave her a small shove. “ I heard that.”

A few other players came to introduce themselves but Keira and Lucy stayed by the brunette’s side. When the last of the girls left, the photographer turned to her friends only to see them looking over her shoulders. 

“ Hola, I don’t think we have been introduced” 

The photographer turned around swiftly only to freeze on the spot at the woman before her. Words seemed to escape her as her lips parted but no words came out. Alexia Putellas was a woman with a commanding presence and piercing eyes. She towered over the photographer by a few inches  and even with a polite smile on her face, she held herself with a confidence that would make anyone shrink beside her. A sharp elbow in her ribs shook up the girl and prompted her to finally speak.

“ Oui, Bonjour mademoiselle,”

[adascore]

Out Of The Blue | J. Fleming

pairings: jessie fleming x chelsea!reader

warnings: angst. swearing. crying. jessie’s transfer.

author’s note: inspired by @pixiesfz (fic: moving on) and @jflemings (fic: inevitable), I definitely recommend checking out their versions of the transfer!

masterlist

•••••••

January, 2024

''Yeah, that does sound great. I'll, uh, think about it and call you tomorrow… Okay, thanks… Bye bye.'' Jessie hung up the phone, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. She sighed as she glanced back into the living room, her girlfriend sitting on their couch, blissfully unaware of anything.

Y/N wasn't entirely oblivious to Jessie's agent researching new clubs. It had been an ongoing discussion for a while now, fueled by Jessie's frustration with her dwindling game time at Chelsea.

Jessie quietly sat back down on the couch, not wanting to disturb her partner's tv-show.

''Everything okay?'' The Canadian turned her head, finding Y/N's eyes on her.

She nodded, biting her lips. ''Yeah, good… just my agent.'' She replied, trying to mask the turmoil in her voice.

''Any news?'' Y/N asked.

Bless her heart, Jessie thought. Despite not being the biggest fan of no longer getting to be teammates, Y/N had been very supportive of her girlfriend's search, believing her talent was indeed being wasted at Chelsea.

''Uh, nothing new,'' the midfielder lied, ''she's still in talks with a few clubs.''

''Oh, okay.'' The forward smiled, redirecting her focus back to the series she was watching.

Jessie didn't want to lie, she really didn't. However, telling the love of your life that you received a great offer from an American club and that you're really considering it, isn't an easy thing to do. The Canadian tried telling herself she should only tell Y/N when it's official, but Jessie knew from the moment her agent informed her of the option, that this was the right direction for her to go.

Her game time would improve compared to Chelsea's, and Janine and Christine would become her club teammates- she'd be stupid not to accept. But Portland was far from London, and Portland was far away from Y/N, her true home.

She promised herself she would tell her when the time was right, when the offer from the Thorns was official and her future was certain.

''I think she might stay until the end of the season, and then see what her options are.'' Y/N responded to Erin, after the Scot asked about Jessie's future.

Erin nodded. ''Nice, we can give her a proper sendoff then.''

''I'd say a party, but I don't think she would want to be the center of attention.'' Millie chimed in, thinking about how they could celebrate the younger woman's time at Chelsea.

''She'd look more like a tomato than she already does.'' Erin laughed, imagining her fellow midfielder's reaction.

''But it's good that we'll have at least this last season with her. The last match is gonna be emotional, Emma leaving, Jessie leaving…'' Millie said once the laughter had died down.

Y/N nodded her head. ''Yeah, but I just want to see her happy, you know? She loves the team, but, you know, with the game time and everything.''

Both women nodded, understanding Jessie's reasons for wanting to play somewhere else.

''Do you know where she's maybe going?'' Millie asked, curiously.

The younger woman shrugged her shoulders. ''She has plenty of options,'' Y/N grinned proudly, ''I think she's staying in Europe, though- Champions League and all.''

''She's gonna become a rival.'' Erin teased, rubbing her hands together in feigned mischief.

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the thought, but the underlying sadness of Jessie's departure lingered in the back of her mind.

''I also see her staying close by, at least near you.'' Millie lightly nudged her teammate's shoulder, sending a wink.

Y/N grinned back, but there was a hint of dejection in her eyes as she glanced at her friends "She's gotta do what's best for her," she said softly, her gaze drifting to the floor, "that's the most important thing.” She murmured.

As Y/N's thoughts lingered on Jessie's impending departure, she was abruptly pulled back to the present by the sound of someone's voice.

''Hey, you're ready to go?'' Jessie asked, her arrival at their table breaking the somber silence that had settled over them.

Amazing timing, Fleming, Y/N thought as her girlfriend approached their table.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Jessie, her dejected mood momentarily forgotten as she met her girlfriend's gaze. "Yeah." She replied, her eyes lighting up and a smile gracing her lips.

Her friends exchanged knowing glances, their amusement evident as they observed the subtle shift in Y/N's demeanor in the presence of her girlfriend.

Y/N got up from her chair. ''See you tomorrow, beautiful ladies.'' She bid her friends goodbye.

''Tomorrow, love birds.'' ''See ya!''

Jessie silently grabbed her partner's bag from the floor, and the pair walked together to the parking lot.

''They're so adorable it makes me sick.'' Erin muttered.

Millie laughed at her teammate. ''I think you might be allergic.''

As they drove out of the Chelsea training complex, a heavy silence enveloped the couple, weighing down the air in the car. Silences weren't necessarily unusual for them, but there was something about this one that had Y/N feeling confused and worried at the same time.

Glancing sideways at Jessie, Y/N noticed the furrow in her brow, the tension etched into the lines of her face. It was clear that something was bothering her, something she was struggling to articulate.

"Hey, Jess," the striker began hesitantly, breaking the uneasy silence that hung between them, "is everything okay?”

Jessie's grip tightened on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the road ahead as she wrestled with her thoughts. ''Yeah, just a bit tired.'' She responded, her voice strained.

Her answer did nothing to soothe her. There was a distance in the Canadian's eyes, a hesitancy in her voice that spoke volumes. "You can talk to me, you know." Y/N said, and she reached out to Jessie's hand.

For a moment, Jessie tensed up at the display of affection. Her breath was caught in her throat as she struggled with what to tell her partner. ''Can we talk about this when we're home? I don't want to have this conversation while I'm driving.'' She asked, momentarily making eye contact with her.

Y/N nodded, though the unease still gnawed at her. "Of course," she replied gently, withdrawing her hand but keeping her gaze fixed on Jessie, "we can talk about it when we get home."

The remainder of the drive passed in an uncomfortable conversation about their thoughts on the training that day.

As they finally pulled into their driveway, Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, the anticipation of the impending conversation sending a wave of anxiety crashing over her. She followed Jessie inside, the heavy silence hanging between them like a dense fog.

Once inside, Y/N took a seat on the couch. Her eyes fixed on the midfielder like a hawk as Jessie paced through the room.

Taking a a few deep breaths to ease herself, Jessie finally broke the silence that had enveloped them. "I... I received an offer." She confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N perked up at the revelation. ''An offer?'' She repeated. ''That's great, no?'' Her voice tinged with uncertainty.

But as she watched her girlfriend unconsciously shake her head, she knew there was more to the story than Jessie was letting on.

The Canadian hesitated, her gaze shifting to the floor as she struggled to find the right words. "From the Portland Thorns," she finally admitted, her voice barely audible, "they want me to play for them.”

Y/N's heart sank at the news, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. ''Portland?'' She muttered. ''In the U.S.?''

Jessie silently nodded. ''Yeah, the NWSL.'' She confirmed.

Her heart sank even further at the confirmation, the reality of the situation settling in like a heavy weight on her chest. ''Wow… that's, uh, that's amazing- with Janine and Christine, that's really nice, babe.'' She tried to muster a smile, but it felt hollow on her lips.

Despite her attempt to be supportive, the weight of Jessie's decision bore down on Y/N like a heavy burden. The thought of being separated by thousands of miles was something out of a nightmare.

But as she looked at Jessie, her heart ached at the thought of holding her back from pursuing her dreams. She knew that she had to be strong, to support her partner no matter what path she chose.

''Thank you.'' Jessie was unsure of how to proceed, it was clear that her girlfriend wasn't expecting a transfer to the other side of the world. "I... I know this isn't easy," she continued, her voice wavering slightly. "But I have to do what's best for my career.”

Y/N reached out, gently squeezing Jessie's hand. "I know," she replied softly, ''and this is gonna be really good for you.''

''So… you're not upset?''

She shook her head, a forced smile tugging at the corners of her lips. ''Of course not. I know you're going to do amazing there, and I'm happy that they are seeing your talent. It's a great club, Jess. And if it means you'll be happier... then I'm all for it.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Jessie's eyes as she pulled Y/N into a tight embrace. "I love you." She whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"I love you too," Y/N replied, returning the embrace, ''I think you forgot for a moment that I'm, like, your biggest fan.'' She chuckled, tears forming in her own eyes.

Jessie laughed now as well. "How could I forget?" She echoed, her eyes sparkling with affection as she looked at Y/N. "You're the best.”

As the evening wore on, the weight of Jessie's decision lingered in the air, casting a somber mood over the apartment. Despite the reassurances they had exchanged, the reality of the situation still hung heavy on their hearts.

A few days later, the time came for Jessie to face her teammates and share the news of her new club. The staff had gathered the team into the meeting room with the excuse they needed to go over some past matches.

''Before we get into some of the matches, there is someone here who has some news for us,'' Emma began, ''Jessie?'' The coach signaled for the Canadian to take her spot at the front of the room.

The midfielder quietly walked towards Emma. ''Hey, everyone,” she awkwardly greeted the room, "I, uh... I have something I need to tell you.” A hush fell over the room as all eyes turned to Jessie.

Y/N's eyes became fixed on the floor, not feeling ready to hear this for a second time.

''I've received an offer from the Portland Thorns,” she said, still a bit on edge, ''and… I've decided to accept it. So this is actually my, uh, last day as a Blue.''

"I... I know this might come as a surprise," Jessie continued, her voice faltering. "you guys are an amazing group, and I'm so lucky to have shared the pitch with such incredible players. All of you will always have a special place in my heart, and, yeah, just thank you for everything.'' She finished her small speech, becoming emotional.

She received applause from the squad and staff in the room. Emma was the first to give her a hug. A flicker of irritation flashed through Y/N at the thought of their coach's role in Jessie's decision to leave, but she pushed it aside, knowing that now was not the time.

All the players got up from their seats to say their own ‘thank you's' or give their own hugs to Jessie. However, the young striker remained seated, finding herself unable to follow her teammates.

With a heavy heart, Y/N quietly rose from her seat, her footsteps barely audible as she made her way towards the door.

She felt a hand on her shoulder as she almost went for the door handle. ''You okay?''

Y/N was met with Sam as she turned around, the Australian's face expressing concern over her teammate's exit without having said anything to her girlfriend.

''Yeah, just need the bathroom.'' She replied, quickly.

Sam nodded and let her go, but she was not convinced. The No. 20 shared a look with her captain who had also watched the young woman's escape.

Millie swiftly ruffled the Canadian's hair, before walking over to Sam. ''What was that?''

''I don't know, said she needed the bathroom, but she went before the meeting.'' The experienced striker explained, a furrow in her eyebrows.

''I'll talk to her.'' Turning back to Sam, she offered a reassuring smile before making her way towards the door.

She caught up with Y/N in the hallway, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to startle slightly. "Hey," the Brit said delicately, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "Mind if we chat for a moment?”

Y/N hesitated, her gaze fixed on the floor as she struggled to meet her older teammate's eyes. "Sure." she replied quietly.

She led the younger one to a more secluded area, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop on their more personal moment. Millie's face was full of concern as she turned to her. ''Are you okay? What happened there? Didn't Jessie tell you already?''

''She did, she did… a few days ago.'' She answered, her voice still quiet and full of emotion.

''Then, what's wrong? Why'd you leave?''

Y/N pulled her attention from the ground to Millie's eyes. ''It's just… that, like, it seemed to have only hit me now that she's actually going, you know? She's gonna go to Portland, while I'm staying here in fucking London.''

Millie's expression softened with understanding as she listened to Y/N's words, her heart aching for her younger teammate. ''I get it,'' she put her arm around her, ''it's tough knowing that she'll be so far away, especially when you're used to having her here with you every day.''

The striker nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek as she struggled to contain her emotions. "Yeah," she murmured, ''I'm…'' she trailed off.

''You're what, sweetheart?''

''I'm scared.'' Her voice was small, if her teammate wasn't standing so close to her, she probably would have missed it.

''Of what?'' The captain frowned.

''The distance, I don't think I can handle it, Millie.''

Millie's heart ached at the vulnerability in Y/N's voice, her own eyes brimming with tears as she wrapped her younger friend in a warm embrace. "I understand," she murmured, offering her a comforting squeeze, "it's okay to be scared. It's a big change. For the both of you.''

Y/N nodded, her tears flowing freely now as she struggled to articulate the depth of her fears. "I... I'm scared of losing her," she admitted softly, ''that she'll forget me while she's there.''

"You won't lose her," she reassured her, her voice filled with sincerity. "Jessie loves you, Y/N. And distance won't change that.”

Y/N sniffled, a small hiccup escaping her as she leaned into Millie's embrace, finding solace in her comforting words. "But what if... what if she meets someone else?" She whispered, her voice tinged with fear.

Millie's grip tightened, her heart breaking at the thought of her friend's pain. "Jessie loves you," she repeated firmly. "And nothing, and I really mean that, nothing will bloody change that.''

''Thanks, Mills.'' Y/N said, her head resting on her shoulder.

''You're welcome, darling. I'm always here for you. And Erin, and Sam, and Guro, Niamh, Z, all of us.'' She reassured her, wanting her to know that they'll stand by her while she goes through this difficult time.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over her at Millie's words. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "I... I really needed to hear that.”

''Anytime, bubs,'' the defender pecked the top of her head, ''I do think you need to tell Jessie this. It's important for her to know how you feel about all this.''

The younger one nodded, taking a moment to compose herself before pulling away from Millie. "You're right," she agreed, her voice a bit steadier now, ''I'll talk to her about it.''

Millie gave her a reassuring smile, her eyes filled with encouragement. ''Great, she'll understand. It's Jessie, remember?'' She chuckled, trying to get a grin out of her friend.

She was successful as Y/N managed to crack a smile. ''Yeah, it's Jessie,'' she straightened her posture as if ready for battle, ''thanks again, Mills. I really appreciate it.''

The defender nodded, the smile on her own face widening. ''You're very welcome, sweetheart.'' She gave Y/N a small pat on the back.

The next evening, they sat together in their dimly lit living room, trying to watch a movie. Y/N glanced over at Jessie, whose eyes were focused on the television.

"Jessie," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, ''can I, uh, talk to you about something?''

The Canadian's brows furrowed in concern as she turned towards her partner. ''Of course.''

Y/N took a deep breath. ''First, I am so happy for you that you're going somewhere where they are appreciating your talent, and that you'll be closer to your family and your siblings...'' she began, her words slow and measured. She paused, struggling to meet Jessie's gaze. ''I just don't think that I, uh, am gonna be able to handle the distance.''

Jessie's stomach twisted with unease as she absorbed her words. In the days since it had become official that she would be moving to Portland, they hadn't really discussed how their relationship would proceed. Each of them had spoken about it with their friends, but they both seemed hesitant to broach the topic with each other, perhaps afraid of the uncertainty it might bring.

''I want to, Jessie, I really want to try- I just want you to know how I feel, it's been bothering me.''

The midfielder found it hard to respond as she observed her girlfriend who looked like she was about to burst out in tears. Tears welled up in Jessie's eyes as she reached out to gently cup Y/N's face in her hands, forcing her to meet her gaze. "I understand," she whispered, her voice strained, "and I appreciate you being honest with me.”

Y/N's own eyes started to water. She leaned into Jessie's touch, her heart breaking at the thought of losing her. ''I love you, J Flem.''

''I love you.'' Jessie reciprocated as she took her partner into her arms, wanting her as close as possible.

''I don't know if I can handle being so far apart, not seeing you or speaking to you every day. International break is already a killer for me, and it's difficult to just go back-and-forth between Portland and London.'' The striker whispered into Jessie's neck, not able to say it any louder.

The Canadian nodded, completely understanding her perspective. ''I know,'' she whispered back, 'I never wanted to put you in this position."

For a moment, they simply held each other in silence, the weight of their unspoken fears hanging heavy in the air. But as the minutes ticked by, the reality of their situation became increasingly clear.

''I don't want to hold you back.'' Y/N said, her voice muffled against the fabric of Jessie's shirt.

''You're not holding me back at all.'' Jessie immediately retorted, ruffling her hair.

Y/N weakly chuckled. ''It feels like I am.''

''Please don't think that, babe.''

They were both aware of what was coming, they were simply wasting time as if that would somehow work and they wouldn't have to leave each other.

''I remember when I first joined Chelsea, and I was watching some of you guys' matches, and thinking you were so intimidating,'' Jessie broke the silence.

''but then you were actually one of the first people to say hi to me, and you just looked so different than on the pitch. You were smiling, and trying your best to make me feel welcome.'' She laughed, an affectionate smile playing on her lips.

Y/N grinned as well, while wiping some loose tears away. ''I just remember thinking you looking super awkward.'' She dryly responded.

Jessie gave her a light push. ''Hey!''

''I also thought you were very cute… with your flushed cheeks.'' She quickly added.

The midfielder ironically blushed at the admission.

It became quiet between the two of them again, reminiscing their early days as teammates at Chelsea.

''We'll find our way back to one another, I'm sure of it.'' Jessie nodded.

Y/n felt a lump in her throat at Jessie's words. ''We're still so young, you never know what can happen.''

''And I know what's going to happen. You and I, together- whenever, wherever that may be.'' She reassured her, her voice filled with sincerity.

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening with the weight of their impending separation. "I love you, Jessie." She told her, the pair locking eyes.

"I love you too," Jessie replied, her voice catching in her throat, "more than anything."

jessie fleming requests are always welcome!

[hellsburners]

soft release

summary: steven got a little rough with this one pairing: steven grant x male reader word count: 1.5k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x, top!steven, rough stuff, nods to comic steven, maybe ooc idk a/n: based on this request.

masterlist | more moon knight

His silence was deafening, all you could hear was the sound of the car speeding through the streets of London. His hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. Your hands were cold and clammy. 

You were on the way home from a gala with your partner, famous museum curator, Steven Grant of the National Art Gallery. The gala featured new historical findings from a site in Egypt funded by the Grant Foundation. 

There were at least fifty people in the museum. Everyone was clad in pristine clothing, gowns, and expensive suits drinking equally expensive champagne. You came as Steven’s partner, a surprise to a lot of his colleagues. He wore a dark pinstripe tuxedo with the brightest white tie, his shoes were polished so bright it shone under the moonlight. 

He made you wear a similarly luxurious midnight blue tuxedo that complemented his. He introduced you to the other curators in Europe. You tried not to get bored but it definitely was. Steven said he hated it himself. You anxiously downed a few glasses of champagne, which you eventually regretted.

He was still silent when you arrived at the manor, removing his coat and his tie. He looked at you with his sunken eyes, a glare you would only see from Marc but you knew it was still Steven. He licked his lips and let out a sigh.

“If this is about earlier—” you tried to say, but Steven pulled you into your shared bedroom, your back against the hardwood door. 

“Flirting with my co-workers, ‘Do you think that was nice of you, love?” he said, his face so close to yours you could feel his warm breath on your lips. His hand is above your shoulder.

You shook your head, speechless. “Don’t think so,” he pulled back and went onto the bed removing his silver cufflinks. “Come here,” he gestured to the bed, his voice deep and serious, like a general giving away orders. 

“I’m so sorry—” you uttered. He let out a few tsks before pulling his belt off. On the usual, it would be you who would be the more aggressive when it comes to stuff like this. You went to sit on the edge of your white king-sized bed, Steven looking down on you with shadows in his eyes. 

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, it was so warm against your skin. His thumb went to your lips as he bent down to kiss you. You let out a soft moan as his lips left yours. He smirked. “Can we play?” he asked. You nodded before he placed his tie around your eyes, it was soft against your nose bridge and your temples. 

Steven started to undress you, your shirt, your pants, your underwear. Before he laid you down he took the tie around your neck and wrapped it around your wrists and secured it with a knot. He gently placed you against the wide bedspread, your arms above your head. 

“I hated the way he looked at you, the way he touched your hand as he talked to you,” he whispered in your ear leaving wet kisses around your neck. You could feel the stubble prick your skin. “Is it fair, my love? To let me see all that?” he said. You shook your head before he spun you around so your face faced the sheets, your ass cold against the air. 

He smacked your rear with a loud clap, like a thunderstrike. A red print is left on your skin. He massaged it with a grip that grew tighter and tighter. You let out a cry from impact, tears forming in your eyes. Steven knew how much this might have shocked you, how it wasn’t really like him. But he saw the way that man looked at you, filled with so much lust and want, he wanted to hurt him. “Shit, I’m so sorry love was that too much?” he shakingly said. 

“No, it—it’s good I liked it,” you witnessed a new side to him, your sweet and soft-spoken boyfriend was now all rough with you. You felt your center turn and harden. Steven’s own hardness grew, the visual of you prone on the bed bound and blindfolded, he cursed. It was Marc’s idea. He heard him whisper it in the car. Do it, teach ‘em a lesson.

“You’re so naughty, what will I do without you, love?” he said as he undressed his trousers. He bent down to kiss your nape, you could feel his tip rub against your back, leaving a wet trail. He took some lube and prepared your hole, his big digits inserted in you opening you up. He left kisses against your ass, leaving a few bites. You wince from the slight pain. 

You hear a foil wrapper being opened and an elastic being stretched. “Can I be rough with you?” he said, you let out a whiny yes. He gently pressed into you, his hardness entering you. The two of you let out a loud groan, his hands gripping your waist. 

He proceeded to thrust into you with fervor, he let out loud needy noises. You could feel his fingers press into your hip bones, his skin slapping into yours through each thrust. You could feel the hard tip ram into your most sensitive spots. You cried out curses and his name. The bed started to creek and rock back and forth, your fingers dug into the soft sheets. 

The sheer amount of force he was letting out was enough to push you to the edge, you could feel your cock leak so much pleasure. Stop, he’s close, a voice whispered to Steven. He pulled out, you let out a sob from the loss of sensation. 

“Steven—babe,” you were a whimpering mess.

“Not yet pretty, ‘need to show you how mad I am right now,” he sulked before turning you over and placing hips between your legs. He started to press wet kisses around your torso, his tongue playing with one of your nipples. The lack of vision made your whole body feel much more sensitive. 

Your bound hands tried to touch his hair as he kissed you down to your leaking cock, he swiftly took your wrist and pinned them back above your head. He went to kiss around your neck, his hand going to your cock, he stroked it so fast, and with the precum, it was so slippering you were sure you’d finally cum. He stopped when your legs began to close, you let out another cry. 

“You’re leaking so much, love. No one can make you like this but us.” 

“I know—”

“Just the three of us for you. Is that not enough?”

“You’re m—more than enough.”

“So it won’t happen again?” he sounded like he was begging, pleading for you to only care for him. 

“Yes—”

The moment you gave out your answer he pressed his cock again to your hole and began to fuck you again. He was harder, it was stiff around your rear, but pleasurable sliding across your muscles. His hip bones clashed against your skin, wet sounds filled the room. Your eyes rolled back from the sensation, your legs trembling. 

The constant rubbing loosened the tie from your eyes, you saw Steven covered in sweat, glistening under the moonlight. His curly hair was all tousled and the veins in his hands were visible as it held your waist. He looked at you and noticed that you could finally see him. He placed a wanton kiss on your lips, it was lousy at best but filled with so much want. You placed your hands around his head and pulled him close. 

He untied you and your hands began to snake across his wide back. The feeling of his cock inside you was starting to make your head feel light, your eyes half-lidded and your toes curled. You were a moaning mess under him. 

He whispered that he was close. His thrusts became erratic but still hard. You asked if you could ride him and he obliged. You began to ride him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Your hips moved up and down, his hands clenched on your ass. The two of you shared one last kiss as he came inside you, your own cum shooting on your torsos. You felt the room darken as your eyes closed. 

You woke up to the room still dark, the moon shone on the window. You felt a cold wet towel on your rear. It was Steven, cleaning you up as he pressed soft kisses on the redness around your waist. 

“You’re awake,” he said, placing the wet towel on the basin near the bed stand. “‘Sorry if it was too much.”

“Marc got you into this?” you giggled. He nodded like a scolded puppy. You stroke his wet hair before you place a light kiss on his lips. “Cuddle me into bed then, my body is sore,” you said as he took out your softest blankets and covered your naked bodies. He peppered you with kisses before you went back into slumber. 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[fortunatelychaoticphantom]

Why is the fact that Jesus and Jews were from Israel considered controversial? It’s what we’re taught at school (and for Christians - church) in the US.

I’m genuinely asking, this isn’t sarcastic. No one I know has ever disputed that fact before.

Hello!

You're referring to this post.

It's controversial because denying the connection of Jewish people (especially Ashkenazim but not only) to the land of Israel is a fundamental aspect of post-modern antisemitism.

Classical and modern antisemitism, particularly in Europe, relied on the Jewish people's foreignness to dehumanize them. It was obvious they were Not From Here, despite living there for centuries and longer, and many demanded that they Go Back To Where They Came From. And then they did.

But antisemitism didn't go away just because Israel was founded, it simply morphed, just like it had between its classical phase (centered on religious otherness, religious "crimes" and blood libels) and its modern phase (centered on race theory and economics).

Of course, right-wingers are still classically and modernly antisemitic. They usually don't bother to hide their hatred, it's pretty fundamental to their ideology and identity (though there are aspects of hiding, especially with holocaust denial). But the left has always been just as antisemitic as the right. But it has also grown in the post-modern age, after world war 2, with specific ideologies, centered around notions of humanism and the importance of human and minority rights. And antisemitism doesn't sit well with these notions, especially not after the holocaust... So something had to change. Unfortunately, it wasn't the antisemitism.

This is a classic cognitive dissonance; I feel something (hatred for Jews) that is inconsistent with my ideology (hating people based on their ethnicity is bad). In such instances you can either 1) work to change your actions (it doesn't matter what I feel, as long as I don't harm Jews, and eventually I might change my feelings for them); or 2) change your believes (Jews aren't a category worth protecting).

Now, "hating Jews" is still a big no-no in western left circles. Even now you can't actually directly say it (obviously this was true before October 7th. It seems like even these rules are changing as we speak). So westerners needed to do two things: 1) white-ify the Jewish people (especially the Ashkenazim) and 2) shift the focus on Israel.

The white-ification of the Jewish people is a major theme is western leftist circles in the past 70 years, especially in the US because of its complicated history with race and ethnicity, but it's prevalent in many other countries as well (it should be noted that Jewish people themselves have contributes to this phenomena for many reasons, but this is not the place for this discussion).

In the post-modern age, "whiteness" means "evil" and it is connected to European and western imperialism and colonization. So, essentially, they change what being a Jew is - a white person, as opposed to a Levantine person. This is where some of these people will do mental gymnastics to deny where Jews are originally from, whether denying modern Jews have anything to do with the historical ones (and many choose this route) or somehow both admitting they are from Israel but saying it doesn't matter because it happened a long time ago and then with the same breath talk about how Palestinians are the indigenous ancient people of the land (they are both indigenous, the world is just that stupid). Now, since white people are evil, they are open for criticism, especially if they are colonizers. And since Jews are white now, it makes no sense for them to live in the Middle East.

Which brings us to refocusing their criticism on Israel. Here, people have to walk a fine line between a legitimize political criticism of the Israeli government and the society itself throughout the years (and there are MANY justified criticisms...) and just being antisemitic. Unfortunately, western leftist circles tend to lean more heavily into the latter. And, again, as has been particularly evident for the last three weeks, their focus is on identifying Israel as colonizing enterprise, not just beyond the 67' Green Line, but by it's very nature of existence, since Jews are white now and don't belong there.

And now, once again, they call us to Go Back To Where We Came From (just to be very clear - Palestinians and the rest of the world are doing it as well), despite that part of the world literally saying "don't bring them here, they are not from here", like they always did, just like the post OP was sharing. Only those Europeans aren't saying "Jews are from the Land of Israel and they deserve to live there", they are just saying what the entire world has been saying for the past two thousand years - we don't want Jews anywhere, period.

They don't give a shit about where Jews are from. Some of them say we're from Europe for the sole purpose of destroying Israel. And they would gladly displace millions of Jews and send them to live again with the people who tried and nearly succeeded to annihilate us. Everyone else just don't care, as long as they can hurt us, but also refuse to accept us as their own. And trust me - if and god forbid when millions of Jews will once again become refugees, not a single nation around the world from which We Came From would take us in. Not one.

I know that people know where Jews are from, but the fact remains that huge sections of the world right now, especially on the left side of the political map, will actively deny it.

Because the truth is - the world doesn't give a shit what Jews are or are not. The world doesn't give a shit where Jews are from or aren't from. The world doesn't want Jews in Israel, and it doesn't want Jews anywhere else.

The only place the world deems the Jews to belong to is their graves.

[harrysblues]

Clean Baby

The one in which Harry comes back from work, and the only thing he wants to do is have a shower with his newborn.

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After spending so much time working on his upcoming album Harry's House, the only thing Harry wants to do is get home to cuddle with his wife and his newborn. Y/N had given birth three months ago to a precious baby girl, Kennedy Gem, that Harry completely adores. He still doesn't believe how much he loves the little thing.

All he had wished to do since his sunshine had been born was to stay home with his family. Unfortunately, Kenny came three weeks early, and all Harry could do was rush through the last couple of things he had yet to arrange for his album release next month.

Even though he had been touring in America, Y/N's pregnancy had been kept a secret to the public. This means that not many people know what Harry has waiting for him at home, and how much he hates being away from home lately. The couple knows that they are going to need to start telling people soon, due to Harry going on tour to the UK and Europe during the summer, and Y/N and Kenny are going with him. However, they want to enjoy the most out of her without being bothered about how things are going, or people wanting to get their hands on pictures of their baby.

Harry got out of a meeting with Jeff and rushed home to be with both of his girls that he absolutely adores with his whole entire heart. They are literally the center of his universe, and the purpose that pushes him to be the best version of him everyday.

"Oh my baby, weren't you so hungry?" He heard Y/N coo right after he enters through the door. "You're the cutest thing I've seen in my entire life".

Harry is fast to lock the door and get to his family in the living room, and when he sees both of his girls on the sofa, wrapped in blankets because it is still chilly out, and Y/N breastfeeding Kenny while looking at her lovingly, he knows he made it. He has been dreaming about this his whole life.

"Hello my angels" He says while quickly sitting down in the sofa right by their side. "How has your day been? I hope fantastic. I've missed you both so so much".

He gives Y/N a passionate kiss, and they separate when they hear their baby make the cutest noise ever. "Yeah, sunshine. Do you also want a kiss?" Harry coos, and immediately kisses his baby's forehead. He is mesmerised with the way she's bonding with her mum right now.

"She's almost done, but she needs a bath. Your mum called and I got distracted" Y/N informs Harry. "She invited us to go to her house this weekend for a family get together. Gemma is also going".

"I'll call her tomorrow to let her know we are going" Harry answers. "But can I please be in charge of bath time tonight? I've missed my little ray of sunshine so much today, you have no idea".

"Oh, is that so? What about your wife?" Y/N says in a playful manner. "Did you forget about your wife when your daughter was born, or what?"

"Of course not, my love. We are soulmates, and I'm yours forever and ever" He says while burying his face on her neck. "You're the muse of all my songs, and the best thing to ever happen in my entire life".

Y/N looks at him, sees the way he is literally drooling over his daughter, and decides to agree to Harry being in charge of bath time. "Okay, I'll let you. However, you have to promise me that this won't be a recurring thing. Kenny is already so attached to you, if she starts getting used to showering with you she won't have it any other way ever again".

"Perfect, perfect, perfect" Harry celebrates. "C'mon Kenny baby, let's go get ourselves clean. Do you want to be a clean baby? Yes?" Harry takes his daughter from her mum's arms and burps her before cradling her in his arms and standing up to get to the bathroom.

"I'll be back in a bit, my love" He tells his wife. "Rest for a bit, put on your favourite show, but please don't worry about anything. You have been working so hard these last couple of months without me here, it's your turn to relax".

Y/N knows that Harry is doing the best he can to balance everything that's going on in his life right now. Nonetheless, her heart melts a little at how sweet he is being about everything. He is all she's ever asked for.

The couple shares a sweet kiss, and Y/N watches Harry and her daughter leave the room to go have a bath, so she doesn't hesitate to take up Harry's offer, and put on her favourite show.

Harry walks with Kenny in his arms to the bathroom, where he starts the shower, so that the water warms up to the perfect temperature for his baby girl, and he prepares the towels for when they get out. Then, he carefully undresses Kenny, as well as himself down to his boxers, and they both get in the shower.

Harry has his back to the shower stream, careful so it doesn't bother his little angel, while he holds her close to his chest. He did this for her first bath, because he was very scared of anything happening to her while in the water and he knew she was the safest in her daddy's arms. Ever since then, he does this as much as his wife lets him. He bonds with Kenny the best during bath times like this one, and he is determined to do this as long as his daughter lets him.

Once they are both completely wet, Harry takes a soft cloth, and with a little drop of baby soap, he starts washing his baby. She is sleepy in her father's chest, seeing as she loves listening to his heartbeat whenever she lays there. So when she notices her sleep being disrupted, she starts whimpering.

"Oh no, sunshine. Don't cry" He says softly to her. "It's just daddy cleaning you up, isn't that right? Didn't you want to be a clean baby?" Kenny stops the moment she hears her fathers voice, and looks up to him with the cutest smile ever.

"Hello, Kenny baby" He coos down at her. "It's bath time with daddy! We love bath time with daddy!" Harry exclaims while bouncing her a little and tickling her stomach. She lets out the most beautiful giggle Harry has ever heard, and he is completely sure he'll never get tired of it.

"How has your day been? Did you have fun with mummy?" He asks her softly while cleaning her body and shampooing the little curls she has started growing. "I'm very jealous that you get to spend so much time with her, especially cuddling. I love cuddles, you know that?" Kenny sees her father talking, and decides to start mumbling and making noises, as if she was answering all of his questions. Harry doesn't doubt it for a second, and he immediately starts talking to her as if she knew what he was saying.

"You love mummy's milk? Is that what you are saying?" The smile could be heard in his voice, as he was looking down at his precious daughter. Kenny squeals and slaps her little hands softly on her daddy's chest, making him chuckle. "We are so grateful for what she is doing for us, isn't that right? She is the most wonderful woman ever, and you are so lucky that you get to learn form her. You are going to be just like her".

The conversation carries on, Harry not once getting bored with the cute interaction, and he finishes giving her a bath and also, washing his body and hair. He would lie and tell Y/N that washing himself with only one arm wasn't difficult, but he would do it every day for his baby girl. It was very difficult for him to explain the bond he had with his daughter during these showers. The idea of her being completely dependent on him was something he thought about every single day. And he obviously loved every single minute of it.

Once both of them are clean, they get out of the shower and Harry carefully wraps Kenny in a very fluffy baby towel with a hood and bear ears on top. It was a gift from Mitch and Sarah for when she was born, and it is the cutest thing ever. Harry can't help but take pictures of her and send them to the love band's group chat every single time she uses it.

He creadles her in his arms again and wraps another towel around his waist. He obviously struggles, and he notices Kenny is watching him in the mirror when she lets out a very loud laugh, seeing her daddy drop his towel many times until he manages to wrap it in place.

"Oh my, Kenny baby! Are you laughing at y'daddy?" He jokingly reprimands her. "Does daddy make you laugh? Yeah?" He only gets more belly laughs from her, and he smiles so big, both of his dimples very prominent on his face, that he swears his cheeks are going to fall off. He is even trying to make her laugh harder, making weird faces at her while they both look at each other through the mirror.

When Kenny starts shivering a little, Harry knows it's time to get her dressed in a very cute pijama and put her to sleep. She was about to fall asleep on his chest after all, so he carries her to her bedroom and dresses her in his favourite pijamas of hers, decorated with little cherries, right after putting lotion on her with a very long massage. He loved pampering his girls, and he wasn't embarrassed to show it.

When she has her hair brushed, and she is ready for bed, with her pacifier on her mouth, Harry brings her to his bedroom so he can get ready.

"I know you're sleepy, sunshine. Let me get dressed and we'll go say goodnight to mummy, alright?" He tells her, while laying her in the middle of his king sized bed. He surrounds her with pillows so she won't roll and fall, although she is too tired to even move.

Harry goes inside his wardrobe to get into his pijamas really quick, and he looks at her playing with her hands at the top of her head while he is in his bathroom, doing his skincare and styling his hair.

"Let's go, angel" He kisses Kenny on the forehead, while picking her up and laying her against his chest. "We have to wish mummy a very good night, isn't that right?" Kenny softly coos, and Harry melts at the sound of her little voice. He can't wait for when she's able to tell him how she feels, or what she thinks.

When they get to the living room, Y/N is asleep on the couch. Harry quickly notices, and without wanting to wake her up, he gets down on his knees right next to her to give her a kiss on the forehead. "C'mon Kenny, give mummy a kissy so we can go to sleep" He whispers.

Right when he is about to get up from the floor to put Kenny to sleep, Y/N stirs awake. "Harry, cuddles please" His wife's demand earns a chuckle from Harry, but he doesn't think twice. He hands Kenny to Y/N, and he gets on the couch besides her to cuddle with the love of his life and his baby.

With the TV playing softly, the warmth of the blankets the three of them are wrapped up in, the feeling of his wife breathing, and the peaceful noises coming from his baby, Harry is in heaven. This is the best life he could have ever wished for, and he could never be happier.

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First post! Please let me know if you like it and want more! Alsooo, don't forget to reblog :)

[atlurbanist]

Notice the density in the photo, not just the transit

Please notice the essential density behind the streetcar in this photo. These buildings sit in easy walking distance, and they *aren’t on top of a pedestal of a thousand parking spaces* — that’s really important.

When it comes to expansion of street rail, bike lanes, pedestrianized streets, etc., we’ll get the best return on those investments through an improved urbanism that de-centers automobiles in the entirety of our designs.

And we also have to include affordability at the front end of planning, as well as housing-security policies that prevent displacement, so that the new urbanism has an equitable, positive impact.

Simply overlaying these wonderful types of transportation on top of car-oriented urban fabric isn’t enough. We need to surround them with buildings that are designed to support those transportation modes.

When you see a photo like this one, don’t just look at the train and think: “we should build one of those in my neighborhood!” Notice that density too, and the walkable scale of the place. Your neighborhood needs to add that.

If my constant, obsessive posting about urbanism elicits any change in the way people think about development, let it be the message above

Image source (somewhere in Europe apparently):

https://twitter.com/ForwardBike/status/1553813551114067971

[carolmunson]

eddie munson x fem!reader | steve harrington x fem!reader

COMING SOON TO THEATERS. A FANFICTION ADAPTION OF ACADEMY AWARD WINNING FILM 'TITANIC' WRITTEN BY:

@loveshotzz @newlips and @carolmunson

ORIGINAL SCREEN PLAY + FILM WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY JAMES CAMERON. ALL OF THOSE ICONIC SCENES AND LINES ARE, OF COURSE, CREDITED TO WHOM CREDIT IS DUE: JAMES CAMERON

PREVIEW:

Wednesday, April 10th, 1912 Southampton, London

The blare of the fog horn is unmissable, rattling the conversations in a small pub off the White Star Dock. Even through the dusty windows she was clear as day, big as anything anyone had ever seen. Large black body met with a red base, multiple decks, and four large smoke stacks. The ship seemed to go on forever, her beauty unmatched to anyone who had seen it – a behemoth on the seas. A glory – a masterpiece.

The doors of the pub fluttered open and closed all morning as it edged closer and closer to noon. Pints poured by the dozens, the hundreds – half the country coming to the piers to see off the Ship of Dreams and its passengers. The bar was alight with chatter, mixing in with the roar of people from outside — hundreds of people halfway to boarding, waving and kissing goodbye. Beer glasses clinked and people cheered while they watched a long line of high end cars gleam in the spring sun as they rolled down the dock. Precious cargo full of Europe and America’s elite. 

Reporters and bellhops alike flock to them like flies, pub patrons ogling through the dusty windows while they exit their buggies.

Among the commotion, the endless chatter and screeching of pub seats, sat four men oblivious to the spectacle. They’re sitting around a small table with sweat on their brows as the April sun pours golden over them. Eyes burning over their cards as cigarette smoke wafts over their heads — the players lost in the fog during an intense round of poker.

The pot was mostly meager — a few pounds and swaths of change, a pocket watch, a penknife. But in the center was the crown jewel, a prize that would change the winner’s life forever. Two pieces of pressed parchment reading: 

The men leer over their hands, not a friendly face between them — the tickets were not the dealer’s, but two of the players who had bet the wrong guys. Guys who had been beyond the break and back again, meeting in Morocco, then Paris, and traveling together back to London — guys who had never lost a game of poker. 

Eddie places his bet, pulling a small silver ring off of his right ring finger and tossing it in the center. 

“Are you kidding?” Jeff asks from his left, “That’s everything we have.” 

Eddie grins at him, taking a drag of his cigarette. The sun dances in his big brown eyes like he knows something the rest of them don’t, “When you got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose.” 

The two other players speak to each other heatedly in Swedish after one of them hits for a new card. The outburst makes it clear that things aren’t looking good for the Swedes — it makes Eddie’s heart leap. Maybe this is it, maybe he’s finally gonna get back to the states. “Sven?” he asks the man next to him. “Hit,” he replies, putting down a card and taking another. Eddie follows suit, furrowing his brow while his bangs meet his eyelashes. Sweat collects on the nape of his neck where his dark curls are twisted up in a graphite drawing pencil – a trick he picked up from women he met in France. He puffs the smoke from his mouth, eyes meeting the Swede across from him who looks like he couldn’t be having a worse day. 

“Alright,” he says, putting his cigarette down on the ashtray between then, “Moment of truth. Somebody’s life’s about to change.” 

He leans back in his chair and looks at his friend, sweat beading at the edge of his hairline and glinting off of his deep skin, “Jefferey?” 

Jeff throws his cards down with a roll of his eyes. “Nothing,” Eddie nods. 

“Nothing,” Jeff says curtly through a grit in his teeth. His heart pounds in his chest while he looks at the last of their money on the table – they can’t afford to lose. 

“Olaf?” Eddie asks, the Swede throws down his cards in a huff, “Nothin’.” 

“Sven?” 

Sven puts down his cards and Eddie frowns, “Oh…two pair.” 

His shoulders droop while he looks at his own cards, eyes lingering on the silver ring in the middle of the table, “I’m sorry, Jeff.” 

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” You idiot! You bet all of our bloody money! You imbecile, you–”

“I’m sorry, you’re not going to be able to visit your cousins in Paris again for a long time,” Eddie says with a serious edge. Jeff quirks his brow, triggering Eddie’s winning smile behind plush pink lips. 

“‘Cause we’re goin’ to America!” he exclaims, slamming his cards down on the table, “FULL HOUSE, BOYS!” 

Jeff leaps from his chair in the back of the pub, reaching for the tickets on the on the table, “WE’RE GOIN’ TO BACK TO AMERICA!” 

“I’m goin’ home!” Ed exclaims while the boys hug tightly. The pub cheers for them, pints still flowing — men and women with red cheeks having no idea what they’re cheering for until a fight breaks out between the Swedes. 

Eddie laughs, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder and Jeff does the same — their white shirts dirtied with the stains of the day before.

“I can’t believe it,” Jeff says, teeth shining in a grin across his face, “Goin’ back to America!” 

“Titanic’s going back to America, boys,” the barkeep says, pointing at the clock, “In five minutes!” 

[lichenaday]

Phaeophyscia decolor 

Starburst shadow lichen

I highly recommend looking at lichens after a rain storm. Many like P. decolor here really change their hue when the photobiont cells inside become hydrated and active. This foliose lichen grows in wreath-like patches up to 4 cm in diameter, with linear lobes radiating from a center of sparse to numerous lobules which erode away with age. The upper surface is gray to gray-brown when dry and olive-green when wet, whereas the lover surface is black with simple black rhizines. It produces sessile (sitting atop of the surface) apothecia which have a prominent (sometimes lobulate or rhizinate) margin and a flat, black disc. P. decolor grows on rock and moss in North America, Europe, and eastern Asia. If you don't get a lot of rain where you live, you can also just, you know, spray the lichens with some water. They probably won't know the difference.

images: source | source

info: source

[hoshologies]

⌗ nct dream as romance tropes

syn. exactly what it says on the tin. the dreamies as different romance tropes, some common, some not.

pairing. nct dream/gn reader.

gen, tropes, & rating. romance. college, missed connections, faking dating, strangers to lovers, matchmaking, friends to lovers, one sided pining. 16+.

warnings. (potentially) underage drinking, profanity.

word count. 3.6k (approx. 450-550 words per member).

mark lee is the boy you spend spring break with. you’d managed to get on a study abroad trip to europe for the vacation, but as the only person from your friend group going, you’d worried about spending the week and a half alone. thank god, then, that mark is also the only one from his friend group going.

you connect during the bi-weekly class sessions leading up to your departure, sitting alone near the back of the small lecture hall. you chat before the faculty leader starts speaking and you giggle amongst yourselves when you have to step into the hallway to practice getting on and off the subway, your arms linked so you don’t get “left behind.” when you both decide to take the charter bus to the airport, mark is the one who packs his suitcase early and heads to your apartment to help you stay awake and do last minute cleaning before he drives you both to the meeting point. you sleep on his shoulder the entire bus ride, in the seats at your gate, you even manage to have seats next to each other on your overnight flight and you fall asleep watching a movie together and sharing your blanket.

spring break is full of the two of you wandering rome together, sharing cups piled high with gelato at the piazza navona, and navigating the parisian subway from the city center to the catacombs. he takes pictures of you on his film camera in st. peter’s basilica; you sneak a selfie together with the ceiling of the sistine chapel, your faces cut off halfway. you climb the bell tower of the duomo in florence, laughing breathlessly when you make it to the top, and you walk the gardens of the palace of versailles together, shoulders brushing as you take in the scenery and chill air of a mid-march morning. on your final night, you watch the eiffel tower glitter from montparnasse and you swear mark looks like he wants to kiss you; you want him to.

but then the trip is over and you go back home. you share seats on the charter bus again and you fall asleep on his shoulder again. he takes you back to your apartment, walks you to your door all bleary eyed and sleepy. you’re worried that this is the last time you’ll see him as you stand at your window and watch him get into his car and drive off. looking at the picture a stranger took of you and mark on the ponte vecchio, his arm around your shoulders and his gaze fixed on you rather than the camera, you realize you cannot let this be the end.

huang renjun is a missed connection. he’s the boy you see all over town, but never work up the courage to introduce yourself to. he’s tall and lanky, always dressed so nice and looking so out of place among everyone else. he’s got soft features, all gentle edges and round, sad eyes. you always find yourself wanting to wrap him up in your arms, fantasizing what his body slotted against yours would feel like. is he warm, soft as he looks?

you see him at your favorite cafe, keeping to himself while he studies and drinks his coffee and picks at his french toast crepe. you spot him on campus, backpack slung over his shoulder on his way to class or laying out on the greens and reading a book. some days, you’re lucky enough to catch the same subway car as him, earbuds in and his eyes trained on the horizon through the window. sometimes, you even end up in the same aisle as him at the convenience store down the street from your apartment. you stand opposite each other, considering your different choices of ramen.

still, with all your instances of seeing him, you’ve never scrounged together the courage you feel you need to talk to him for the first time. even if you could, one glimpse of that lopsided grin of his would have you crumbling anyways, a weakness before you even get the chance to ask for his name. so you resign yourself to only admire him from afar and he, completely unknown to him, will forever be known as the “cute cafe boy” amongst your friend group.

you spend months like that, cherishing the glimpses you get of him. because you often exist in the same spaces with the same schedule, like the cafe on tuesday afternoons at eleven in the morning, you decide to give the barista money one day, tell them that you want to pay for his coffee when he gets here, describe him as the tall, lanky boy with the big brown eyes and gentle voice; they always know who you’re talking about. you tell them to not tell him who paid for it, just that a stranger wanted to pay forward some kindness.

when he arrives and orders, the barista relays the message and they swear up and down the wall it was a stranger, but the glance they cast over his left shoulder is telling. when he turns away, his eyes land on you, too wrapped up in your laptop to notice. but he’s too shy to say anything and so when he gets home, he writes a missed connection posting on your community’s page, the same one your friend frequents to look for free or cheap furniture.

you were at the greenhouse cafe today (tuesday) around 11:15 in the morning. i went there to study and get coffee, but the barista said someone had paid for it already. you wanted to stay a stranger, but if you’re the person i think you are, i want to thank you properly. ramen at the convenience store by our apartment buildings?

maybe your friend oughta pass this on to you.

lee jeno is a friend of a friend, who your friend manages to convince to fake date you for a couple of group outings. she drags you to so many big group events, like drinks at the favorite bar or clubbing or even group movie nights at apartments. out of a group of ten, you and jeno are the only two single ones. it can be annoying being the only singles, especially when you’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t have an issue with not seeing anyone right now; it’ll happen when it happens, you find yourself saying at least once a week, it’s just not a priority right now and i don’t mind it.

jeno faces the same line of irritating questioning, so when you’re out with your friends beom gyu and haechan (the instigators of the group), haechan suggests a scheme to get the rest of your friends off your backs. “just pretend you’re dating for a little while. act a little coupley at our hangouts and then, like… just say that you decided your lives are going in different directions, so you’ve broken up, but it’s amicable and there’s no hard feelings! simple as that.”

beomgyu cosigns almost immediately, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and it kind of scares you. the number of times this duo has instigated things, harmless as they may be, is something to be worried about. you’re a little skeptical, but when you look over at jeno, he’s looking back at you. he gives you a nonchalant shrug and an easy it would get them off our backs for a while. it’s not like we have to actually go out on dates or anything.

it’d just be acting, sure, and you’ve never particularly been into jeno, but his last sentence stings a little, somewhere deep and dark within you. regardless, you ignore the subtle hurt and you nod, mimicking his shrug. sure, why not?

the next time the whole group is together, you and jeno sit together, shoulder to shoulder. almost immediately, yeji picks up on it and nearly squeals. what is this? are you dating? when jeno confirms, the whole table starts shouting, including beomgyu and haechan, the masterminds behind this whole thing (beomgyu tells you later that it was to make it look like they were surprised too). she asks when it happened, why, how, congratulates you both on your new relationship, says it’ll be great for you guys to not be ninth and tenth wheeling on hangouts anymore.

you both go on like this for a while, showing up to the bar or the club or your favorite local diner or even hangouts at someone’s apartment and sitting together, jeno’s arm draped around you or your head on his shoulder. you show up and leave hand in hand. every once in a while, he’ll even drop kisses to your temple or hairline to really seal the deal.

but your mind can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s fake, and the lines start to blur. you swear you’re starting to imagine things: fond glances from him, is he holding you just a little tighter or is that a figment of your imagination, why’s he lingering at your front door after dropping you off at home? there’s no chance that’s all for show, right?

lee haechan is the neighbor of the family you’re working as an au pair for. you’re young and fresh out of college, but instead of going straight into a regular job, you decided to go abroad. you were lucky to find a great job as an au pair for a couple and their seven year old daughter; they offered room and board, a good salary, and weekends off (unless needed) in exchange for your services in taking care of their child and helping maintain the house. you confirmed almost immediately and left for their country within the week, nothing but two suitcases and a carry-on.

during your first week, you stuck mainly to your host family’s house, only really leaving to drop off or pick up the daughter from school. but when the weekend rolls around and the parents are off work, they tell you to do some exploring, giving you their personal recommendations for all kinds of stores, restaurants, and cafes. the mother ushers you goodnaturedly to the front door and tells you not to come back for at least two hours, to enjoy and get to know the area, especially if you’ll be around for as long as they need you.

so with a little bit of pocket money and your backpack, you’re left standing on the front lawn with no earthly idea where to go first. you’re just about to pull out your phone and look up the closest location they recommended when a call of hey! startles you. you nearly jump out of your skin and turn to look at the person who interrupted you. he’s decently tall and broad with honey bronze skin and a life-changing smile.

he waves you over and meet him at the edge of the front lawn, his eyes bright and airy, untouched by negativity. he introduces himself as haechan, the grandson of the woman who lives next door. he tells you that he’s going to university here in the city and lives with his grandma, which surprises you; it’s really not as bad as it could be, a twenty something year old living with his grandma, he tells you, i come home to a warm meal every night. but he shakes his head, getting himself back on track.

“anyways, my grandma mentioned something about the neighbors getting a nanny and i haven’t seen you around before, so that must be you, right?”

you nod, telling him you’re an au pair (fancy term, he interjects. cooler than nanny) from abroad and you’ve never visited this country before. he smiles, radiant and welcoming, and suggests that he give you a tour of all the best places, promising to make it worth your while. when you mention that the parents told you not to come back for at least a couple of hours, he nods dutifully and says, “i’m the best tour guide you could possibly had. we’ll be gone for four hours minimum.”

it makes you laugh, the look on his face, and infected by his sunny personality, you shrug, giving him a why not? you could do with a local guide.

“lead the way.”

na jaemin is the frat boy whose friends dare him to date you. he sees you often at the parties his frat throws, always in tow with your more outgoing, popular friends. he’s not entirely sure how you become a hot topic among his friend group (he thinks it’s because you’re so different from the rest of your group), but you do. on nights they get drunk, they often end up discussing you, how you ended up in that gang of friends when you so clearly do not fit in with them; even when you do look like you’re enjoying yourself at a party, you never quite get to the level your friends do.

one night, the discussion turns to a rumor that they heard going around about you: you’ve never had a boyfriend. his friends laugh about it, busting their sides over something so insignificant and so not their business. jaemin doesn’t find any amusement in it; if anything, he thinks it’s kind of cute, if it’s even true. the boys take notice of his silence and when seungmin casts a scheming glance around the table, jaemin feels a chill run through him.

“jaemin,” the younger boy drawls. “dare ya to date ‘em.”

jaemin immediately shakes his head. “the fuck’s wrong with you? that’s fucked up. i’m not doing that for a stupid ass dare.”

seungmin shrugs and leans back in his seat, head tilted back as he takes a drink out of his natty light. a laugh ripples across the group of boys and jaemin has to hold himself back from rolling his eyes; he’s not cruel and he’s not doing that to you, not when you’ve been nothing but sweet to him in the few conversations you’ve had. but then jeongin, the worst culprit of provoking everyone and instigating shit, says it’s because jaemin is too goody-too-shoes, too lame to do something and against his better judgment, jaemin jumps in, heat creeping under his skin, scorching him from the inside out.

“fine, i’ll do it, but i’m expecting compensation for any date,” he says hotly. “you’re paying for it all since it was your stupid ass idea.”

the group almost protests, but jaemin silences them with a deadly look. he reminds them a second time that they’re the ones who came up with the idea, he’s not paying for this out of his own pocket (at least not yet).

when he waltzes up to you at the next party, a seagram’s escape from his own personal stash in his hand for you, you’re immediately suspicious. but his smile is soft, his gaze impossibly softer, the whole of it disarming. he chats you up easily and by the end of the night, your number is secure in his phone, your text log pinned to the top of his messages, and a potential plan to go get breakfast at a hole-in-the-wall diner next week. he smiles when you turn back and wave to him as you’re leaving.

this whole thing is supposed to be a bet, but he’s always wanted to get to know you better, so if he can get his stupid ass friends to bankroll all the dates he plans to take you on, he figures it’ll be killing two birds with one stone.

zhong chenle is the boy your friend has a crush on. he’s in your general psychology class; he sits a couple of rows behind you in the lecture hall, always has the best discussion board posts, always sets the high score for every test, quiz, and assignment. he’s also involved in the choir on campus and he lives in the same dorm building that you and your friend do.

you see him on campus in passing all the time, frequenting the dining hall and the library on the same schedules. your friend, iseul, is almost always with you during these instances too and she starts crushing… hard. you can’t say you blame her: he’s pretty and intelligent and kind of mysterious. you’ve heard whispers of him being the campus crush, which doesn’t surprise you in the slightest.

one friday night, a little bit gone off a blue razzberry beatbox, iseul pleads to you on your dorm room floor, kneeled on the hard linoleum floor and hands pressed together, the whole nine yards. she wants you to help her get with chenle, she really likes him but because she doesn’t have a way of meeting him naturally, you’re her next best bet. she makes you a million promises: she’ll do your laundry for a month, she’ll buy the groceries for the room, she’ll buy your coffee at the campus cafe for the next year, whatever it takes.

she’s near tears when you finally cave in and help her; she hasn’t spoken a single word to that boy, but she’s already so whipped and you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear her whine if you say no. she’s very lucky that you have a group project for your gen psych class and chenle is in your cohort. you don’t have a single clue about how you’re going to play cupid for her, but you suppose you’ll figure it out as you go.

when you, chenle, and the other two members of your group meet for the first time, you’re ready to help iseul bag the man of her dreams. but the more your group meets, the more time you spend sitting next to chenle, his body heat tangible and his cologne invading your senses, the more you exchange ideas and small talk, the more you realize that you like him quite a bit, more than you should.

and then you start hanging out with him outside of the project too, getting coffee or sharing a table at the library or eating dinner on the nights that iseul doesn’t join you for a meal. he laughs at your jokes, asks questions, talks to you about things other than academics. the more you spend your time with him, the harder it gets to want to matchmake him with iseul.

but you made her a promise and you’d be a bad friend to break that promise.

park jisung is your first love, even if he doesn’t know it. he’s a million of your favorite romance tropes rolled into one: childhood best friend, boy next door, campus crush. everything about him is so sweet and kind and cute, it’s next to impossible to not fall in love with him, not when he has everything in the world going for him.

you grow up together, your moms best friends since high school, so you’ve been raised as best friends since birth. you’ve had joint birthdays, matching gifts, a shared cake, all of it. all of your big duo achievements have been celebrated together and you’ve been each other’s dates to every high school dance, including your senior prom. it’s just always been you and jisung, always intertwined, forever written in the stars.

you both decide to go to the same college, manage to get assigned to the same dorm building and into the same gen ed classes because neither of you can imagine going through university without the other. it’s not that you’re codependent (at least not unhealthily so), but he’s your self-proclaimed life partner. you don’t have to follow the same path, just ones that are parallel to each other.

but when you start university, he quickly becomes the heartthrob of your dormitory and then the entire campus. jisung, as he always has been, is oblivious to the extra attention he gets from your classmates, the glances they shoot him in the dining hall, their less than innocent invitations to hang out in their dorm rooms. despite your decades-long friendship, you’ve never really talked about crushes or love or anything of the sort and he’s never given any indication that he likes you romantically, so there’s no reason for you to feel that sharp, ugly pang of jealousy in your gut when another classmate leans a little too close towards him to ask a question while you’re standing in line at the dining hall, waiting to swipe your meal cards.

but you do. it is sharp and painful and terrifying the way you feel so viscerally upset when your peers, girls and guys alike, try to make passes at jisung. you always knew you felt differently about your childhood friend, the one you’ve known since literal diapers, but not to this extent. and you realize one night while you’re drinking contraband alcohol in your dorm room that your feelings stem from a place in your heart you can trace all the way back to eighth grade when he asked you to be his date to the valentine’s day dance when the person you asked rejected you very publicly.

park jisung is not yours, not officially, but your heart has belonged to him for years and you’re too deep in to take it back. maybe if he was just a little less oblivious or you a little less anxious to put your friendship on the line for it.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[imfeelingbad]

(As a ukrainian) I lost all hope in humanity forever ago and I'm pretty sure I won't change someone's opinion, but I just want to tell the truth that i cry about every time.

I didn't see my home for 2 years. When I was there all I heard was explosions, bombs and warplanes. I saw ruined houses. I saw my half-destroyed school near which a projectile fell. I saw fire, smoke, a lot of it. I was in there. I heard all this. I heard. I saw. with my own eyes and ears. And what did you see and heard in the west, saying "This is all just Ukrainian propaganda"?

I was in the metro and saw hundreds of my fellow citizens, that a few months ago were casually going in this metro to their jobs, schools, universities etc. Some were sitting on the floor, some on old crusty carpets, with no fresh air, no normal ability just to go pee, not even talking about washing. But they were there just to be safe. Just to not die. They didn't care about hygiene, warm food and bath, delicious drink in their favorite café, all they did care about was just surviving.

Then I heard about Bucha massacre (read about this, if you think "russian soldiers are just poor people who don't want war and against Putin!!"). I heard hundreds women, children, men being raped, killed, tortured and firstly I was shocked. Then I heard about Irpin, Mariupol', Izium, Bahmut, now Avdiivka and many other ukrainian cities, that were completely destroyed by russians. But the difference is now I'm not shocked or surprised. Because now I understand this is Russian world, Russian culture, whole Russia in general.

But no one cares. No one cares about genocide, if the victim is big country in the center of Europe (even though every country has many people of color, and the biggest country in the world terrorizes it).

I saw a girl in the tiktok that was telling about the film "20 days in Mariupol". I looked in the comments and started crying. Why am I, my family, my friends, all ukrainians supposed to suffer while some westerns and russians are just laughing and saying "slava russia"?

Many people were talking about Gaza and I agree, there is total hell in Gaza and I feel very sorry for Palestinian people. I know how it is. But what gives YOU, a person that is sitting in the safe place with all basical human needs and think a war is just some trend, the right to compare the DEATHS of people that DIED from GENOCIDE and say that one GENOCIDE is less bad than another.

I'm not saying that we are suffering more than Palestinians, I'm saying that it's just so cruel to normalize deaths of people.. any people. That DON'T HURT anybody. That just want to live in a free country.

If I say, boycott Israel, all people from Israel are terrorists, people will agree with me. But when I say Russia is the terrorist, people will say "No, you're just xenophobic!"... And the genocide of my people is NOT xenophobic?? And the hundreds of years of destruction of Ukrainian culture is not xenophobic??

"What about Gaza?"

Gaza needs help. Ukraine needs help. Congo needs help. Syria needs help. No one should suffer. THAT'S my point.

Did you hear something about Holodomor in Ukraine? About MILLIONS of Ukrainians that died because soviet government were taking LITERALLY EVERY FUCKING BREAD CRUMB?? around 3.9 million ukrainians died. And this is only according to official data. These are only people whose identities have been established. It does not take into account people who were missing, or who were just horribly maimed.

If you still think I'm an ukrainian propagandist and not some fucking random teen like you who's just sharing my thoughts, read about Holodomor in Kazakhstan, first Russian-Chechen war, SECOND Russian-Chechen war, Russian-Georgian war, Russia’s invasion of Syria, Illegal occupation of Crimea and Donbas or just anything that involves Russia and war crimes.

If you're still saying this is all propaganda, Photoshop, I'm not surprised. Of course, everything around is propaganda. But not your beautiful truthful swamp.

Sometimes I just wish I was in yours shoes. Not caring about anything.

I don't care what russia supporting bots will say, I don't care people will not believe me, I just want to feel alive again.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_war_crimes

[bangtanhoneys]

GRACE TOUR DIARY: March 29th 2025 - Chicago

If the Big Hit team were honest, scheduling a pre-recorded performance for the iHeartRadio Awards right in the middle of a tour was a bit of a push especially when they had to do it in one day so Grace could get to Chicago to fulfil her priorities ahead of her concert. It started with a 4 am morning call to get her up and made up, to drive over to the Grammy Museum by 6 am to start rehearsals for two hours to the mix that had been generated the previous night. 

A last minute put together for a last minute performance. 

Of course, trying to put these things together in record time led to mistakes. Butter had been mixed with all the boys' voices, not a backing track for Grace to sing over so that had to be edited while Grace was rehearsing. Not only that, costumes for the dancers hadn’t arrived so another quick runaround of getting something to match the tour costume they had picked for this performance. 

It was becoming a long day of issues.

But by 11 pm, Grace was in the car and on the way to LAX to catch her private plane to Chicago. 

“That was a nightmare,” she sighed and laughed at the same time as the team piled onto the plane, with the dancers and staff in one area and her in the other with Sejin, her female manager and two bodyguards. “Let’s try not to do that again.”

“The rest of the team are in Chicago at least and started some rehearsals at United Center, so that’s something. There’s not much time missed but it just means tomorrow,” Sejin paused and glanced at his watch. “Sorry today, is going to be a bit of a push. There’s a couple of interviews and meeting the Chicago Mayor but you’ll be able to get to rehearsals as planned for 4 pm.”

“Great,” Grace laughed and ran a hand over her face. The flight was four hours long so she got the sleep she could get until they landed at O’Hare International Airport. The airport was quiet so it allowed for a quick walk-through to get to the car and a 20 minute drive meant she was at her hotel and in her room within record time. 

A nap, still in her clothes, meant she was awake at 6am again to get a shower and some breakfast. 

The hectic schedule over the following days meant everything was running back to back and there was a little time to start feeling homesick. She missed her parents, she missed her cat, she missed Seokjin, she missed the boys. She missed the smog in the sky over Seoul. But there was no time to think, no time to sit down and stare out the window and think. 

Everyone demanded her time - from Sejin, to costume, to make up, to dancers, to cameras, to VCR, to the stadium, to the merch, to the company, to the person who was interviewing her, to the person she was going to meet at this location, to ARMY who were trying to see her outside of her concert. 

It was the first time she sat in her suite at the Nobu Hotel and looked around the room, having been left alone for the first time since she arrived in Chicago and wondered what she was doing. Doing a solo tour, starting in Seoul to America then to Europe and then Asia and then back home when she didn’t have the amount of songs BTS or even Namjoon or Yoongi did. 

She hated doubting herself. She hated the worry that set in over whether she was good enough and whether there was going to be even a crowd to come see her. She had seen the empty seats at other kpop groups concerts and worried that was going to happen to her, even though every stadium date had been sold out and extra dates added.

With a sigh, Grace kicked off her slippers and curled up on the couch with the news on in the background. Of course it was the usual report of fans lining up outside the United Center with police around for protection, reporters doing interviews and explaining how the stadium had been lit purple for her arrival and how this was a big thing. 

For them it was a big thing. 

For Grace it was starting to feel like a big mistake.

It was 12 noon in Seoul, so she knew Seokjin would be busy with his schedules but she sent him a message either way: ‘Miss you. Wish this tour would hurry up so I can see you all the time.’

He wouldn’t read it until he had finished when she would be waking up the next day to do her Chicago stop.

With a heavy sigh and feeling like an idiot, Grace turned off the TV and made her way to the bedroom. A bubble bath, some pampering, maybe some room service and a good movie would sort her out to get her head in the game for tomorrow. 

23,000 ARMY were making their way through the United Center. Vendors were set up selling merchandise, food vendors were selling a mix of traditional Chicago food, British food and Korean food and BTS music was playing over the speakers. 

Some were dressed in costumes inspired by music videos, some were wearing BT21 merch and others had various t-shirts including one which read ‘JK - Champagne Confetti later?’ in reference to the lyrics from his Golden album. There were teenagers, elders, men, women and everything in between making their way slowly to their seats. 

There were excited whispers amongst the crowd over what BTS song Grace would be singing tonight as everyone had caught on quickly that there would be some kind of performance with a BTS song at each stop she was doing. While ARMY was clearly having an amazing time out in the stands, Sejin had come to a realisation. 

“You’ve only got two dates in New York and that’s it for the American leg,” Sejin reminded her as he helped attach the mic pack to her costume and passed over her orange microphone. 

“Really? I keep thinking I’ve got longer here but then I suppose we’ve been in America for nearly a couple of weeks now so it does feel like a long time,” she mused as the hair stylist brushed out her ponytail. 

“And then we’ve got Seoul again and then we’re in Europe, which means we’re nearly at the end of April then,” he remarked. 

It was going very quickly. It never felt like this when she was the guys, always feeling like the tour was dragging along because of the amount of travelling in between for a one night performance.  

She could hear the voices of ARMY doing the fan chant as the music started to windle down, opening up to the tour’s VCR and big welcome to her concert. They were loud, not as loud as Los Angeles, but still loud. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the dancers turn up the volume on their in-ears which made her grin. These girls who were always with her on the opening part knew by now that the first song always got the loudest reaction from the crowd. She counted down under her breath as it got to the opening beats of 7 Rings and when she finally got lifted up to the stage, the whole arena was lit up with purple and orange ARMY bombs. 

“Chicago!” Graced yelled, getting a roar of a response in return. “Welcome to the In My Head tour! Let’s see how loud you can be tonight!”

They certainly did their best.

She could see a lot of people in the stands, doing the same choreography she was doing and she could see just about everyone singing along while moving their ARMY bombs to the beat. Of course, there was the usual amount of cell phones in the air as they tried to record every moment of the tour and she could see how some people came prepared with powerbanks. 

It seemed as well that they knew what was coming as they got nearer towards the end of the concert. 

“Ah I really can’t surprise you well as I could when we were in Los Angeles. You already know what’s coming,” Grace grinned. A cheer went up in response as seven of her male dancers appeared on stage. 

There was even more noise when two silver blocks were rolled onto the stage.

“I think that gave you the biggest clue, didn’t it?” Grace asked the audience while eight silver chairs appeared as well. 

The opening notes of Dionysus began to play, much to the approval of the Chicago crowd. While many were expecting just the simple mix from the album, they hadn’t expected the same mix from the 2019 MMA to be played, with dance break included. 

Grace sat in the middle chair, laughing breathlessly as the mic hung limply in her hand as the male dancers leaned forward to catch their breath. “Now, you weren’t expecting that were you?” she finally asked, laughing as she got down from the chair and the silver block.

“Chicago, we’re at the end now. So now it’s my time to say thank you to all those who have made it tonight. Thank you for supporting me, supporting the boys, for being the biggest fandom in the world. Seeing you all tonight, I can’t wait to see you all again.”

The noise from the crowd, from the fireworks, from the instrumental track of Dangerous Woman as it played out while she descended below the stage echoed around her as the team helped move towards the changing room. 

“New York tomorrow,” Sejin called out over the voices of the staff as they began to pack away her microphone and in-ears, some reaching around to start undoing the zip of her Dangerous Woman costume.

“Day free tomorrow or is it mostly work?” Grace called back, holding onto one of the stylist's shoulders as another stylist pulled her feet out of the high heels. 

“Half and half!”

However, the next morning, contingency plans were already in motion before Grace woke up. Chicago weather and New York weather had predicted snow and storms, prompting flights to be cancelled. And while Grace’s concert in New York wouldn’t start until April 2nd, they needed her at rehearsals and her commitments in New York such as Jimmy Fallon, the United Nations and the like. 

 When she woke up, by her shoulder being shaken, at 5am Grace knew something was wrong.

“We need to leave in about an hour - flights between Chicago and New York have been cancelled because of the weather. We’re driving instead.”

[brostateexam]

Kadesh Swanson has a rule at sit-down restaurants: He tips 10%. It’s half the norm (at least 20% these days), but it’s what he’s always done. “If servers want more, then they should put the same effort in that I took to earn that money,” he says. Swanson, 34, makes tobacco pipes and hosts taco pop-ups in Olympia, Washington, and sees a gratuity as a reflection of the service he’s offered. He’ll tip more occasionally when the experience feels exceptional, but never on takeout or counter-service orders. “You just came, did your job, and you left,” Swanson says of workers at limited-service restaurants.

A 2023 Pew Research Center study showed that people who have worked for tips are more likely to leave a gratuity. But that’s not the case for Swanson. Even running his own taco pop-ups at local breweries hasn’t changed his views on tipping. He considers his business model comparable to that of a fast-food restaurant: “It comes off the grill and someone hands it to you,” he says. Swanson appreciates a gratuity but admits that “my own business is not one that I would personally tip.” He may not be the average customer, but Swanson is not alone. There are diners across the country who view gratuity in its most literal sense—as totally discretionary.

Tipping has been a controversial topic pretty much forever—but it’s only gotten more polarizing. Stories of people shaming bad tippers are commonplace now, and tipping on everything from takeout to counter service has become the industry norm. Still, there are people among us who are actively resisting this movement. They rarely—if ever—tip 20%, and some believe that by withholding tips, they’re actually protesting an antiquated and inequitable system.

There’s a lot of these people: 5% of Americans never tip and 12% only sometimes leave a gratuity on their meals, according to Bankrate data. In a new YouGov etiquette survey, half of the more than 1,000 respondents indicated they think it’s “acceptable” to leave no tip after receiving “bad service.” That Pew Research Center survey of almost 12,000 adults found that more than half would tip 15% or less on “average—but not exceptional—food and service” at a restaurant. (One quarter of respondents said they would still leave 20% or more, and 2% said they wouldn’t tip at all.)

“I believe the role of tipping should be to incentivize and reward excellent service,” says Anda Galffy, a 69-year-old travel blogger who was born in Europe but now lives in Southern California. “It has nothing to do with generosity.”

[whencyclopedia]

Battle of Wagram

The Battle of Wagram (5-6 July 1809) was one of the largest and bloodiest battles of the Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815). It resulted in a pyrrhic victory for French Emperor Napoleon I (r. 1804-1814; 1815) whose army crossed the Danube River to defeat Archduke Charles' Austrian army. Wagram ultimately allowed Napoleon to win the War of the Fifth Coalition (1809).

Background

Ever since its defeat at the Battle of Austerlitz (2 December 1805), the Austrian Empire itched to exact revenge upon Napoleon and recover its status as a major power in Central Europe. In the three years that followed the battle, Austria bided its time as its army was modernized by Archduke Charles, brother of the emperor and commander-in-chief of the Austrian forces. Charles' reforms included a system of mass conscription through the Landwehr militia and a reorganization of the army into nine line and two reserve corps, copying the corps d'armee system that had contributed to Napoleon's success.

By early 1809, hundreds of thousands of French soldiers were off in Iberia fighting the Peninsular War (1807-1814) against Spain and Portugal. This greatly reduced France's military presence in Germany, an opportunity that Austrian Emperor Francis I was keen to take advantage of. Francis ordered his brother to prepare for war, and on 10 April 1809, Archduke Charles sparked the War of the Fifth Coalition when he invaded France's ally of Bavaria with 200,000 men. Napoleon was prepared; having noticed the build-up of Austrian forces, the French emperor had raised a new Army of Germany that consisted mainly of French conscripts and allied German soldiers from the Confederation of the Rhine. Since Archduke Charles' invasion got off to a slow start, Napoleon was able to launch a rapid counteroffensive. In the ensuing Landshut campaign, Napoleon's Army of Germany won a string of battles and forced Archduke Charles back across the Danube. Charles' retreat left the road to Vienna wide open, and Napoleon occupied the Austrian capital on 13 May.

Emperor Francis had evacuated Vienna before the French occupation, and Archduke Charles had rallied his forces and was currently sitting on the opposite bank of the Danube. Since all the major bridges across the river had been destroyed, Napoleon needed to build his own. He chose the floodplain of Lobau Island, south of Vienna, as the ideal location for his river crossing. By midday on 20 May, the pontoon bridge was completed, and the first elements of the French army crossed over to occupy the towns of Aspern and Essling. By the next morning, Napoleon had gotten 25,000 troops across the river, but efforts to get the rest of his army across were frustrated by the Austrians, who floated flaming barges down the river to punch holes in the French bridge.

At 1 p.m. on 21 May, Archduke Charles ordered an attack. The French were surprised by the sudden Austrian assault, and brutal fighting erupted around Aspern and Essling that lasted well into the night, at which point the French retained control of both towns. The battle resumed on the morning of 22 May; while the Austrian wings were embroiled in the struggle for the towns, French Marshal Jean Lannes led a charge against the vulnerable Austrian center. His attack came close to success but was stopped by the personal intervention of Archduke Charles, who led a spirited counterattack. As the day wore on, the French were pushed out of Essling, and the bridge was repeatedly damaged, preventing Napoleon from getting the rest of his army across. At 3 p.m., the French emperor decided to cut his losses and ordered a withdrawal to Lobau. The Battle of Aspern-Essling marked Napoleon's first major defeat in a decade and had cost him between 20-23,000 casualties including the irreplaceable Marshal Lannes, who was mortally wounded. The Austrians also suffered around 23,000 casualties but achieved victory, having denied the river crossing to Napoleon.

Continue reading...

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Okayokayokay so I was thinking smth like you're a friend of bams who gets dragged along with most of his adventures which leads to you meeting ville and he just. Instantly is like 'that ones mine, when do you want to move to Helsinki with me' kinda similar to yr bam x model!reader fic iykwim?

Love You To Death

Having Bam Margera as a friend also means you get dragged along on whatever project he’s working on, most recently leading you to Finland, where you would get caught up in something you couldn’t even imagine.

Ville Valo X Fem!Reader (slight Bam Margera X Ville Valo if you squint?)

(Angst, fluff)

3.2k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, alcohol, smoking, manipulation, power imbalance, fighting, toxic relationships

An: Thank you so much for your request! I always love writing for kind of messed up relationships such as this one and would be happy to do a sequel! This is my first time writing a Ville centric fic so lmk what you think! Thank you for the request and please keep sending them!

Being a part of Bam’s crew and following him around everywhere only served to reinforce one fact: you were nobody special. He always claimed that your little group was a package deal, but who was the one always always getting followed by cameras and reporters? Certainly not you, or Ryan, or god forbid Novak. Bam was getting all the product deals, all the interviews, all the chicks. It was no wonder that after years of watching from the sidelines, you were a little jealous. But while you were filming together, you usually tried to push that aside.

“He’s, like- the Elvis of Finland, Y/N!” You were flying out to Europe to film this music video, and Bam had been excitedly gushing about something or other the whole time- this rock star he wanted to introduce you to, but you were pretty clearly not paying much attention. “Chicks pass out when he walks down the street! They’re, like- my favorite band.” Yeah, because if Bam’s a fan of something, that means it’s good. You nodded, sitting back in your economy class seats while you tuned him out.

It was the dead of winter, so Helsinki-Vantaa was completely decked out in Christmas decorations as you touched down, making the whole airport glow amber in the dark blue night- what a sight to wake up to.

☆彡

Half asleep, you were still blinking awake as you arrived at a dim, seedy looking rock club in the center of the city- some place called Tavastia. The bouncers outside took one look at Bam and quickly ushered you guys over to this side entrance, giving him his usual celebrity treatment. Following him to where the band was hanging out backstage, you had to do a double take when you saw that tall stranger sprawled out on the couch, idly smoking his cigarette with half lidded eyes. His eyes flicked up to meet yours first before darting towards Bam, who was standing with a hand held out to pull him to his feet, “Hey, man! What’s up?” There were traces of pink lipstick left on his cigarette as this beauty of a man took a drawl, shrugging, “Nothing much.” His eyes fell on you again as he looked you up and down as he talked with Bam in that low, totally chill register, “Who’s this?”

He introduced you to each other: Y/N, this is Ville. Ville, this is Y/N. Honestly, you misconstrued his subtle flirting as him just being nice- you chalked up how he said it was a pleasure to meet you and the way he kept looking back to you while Bam was excitedly going on about the new video as Scandinavian hospitality, if that’s a thing. You were so oblivious. The roar of the excited crowd was a mere rumble from where you were, and as the band got their cue to head out onstage, Ville shot you a wink as he slipped out the door.

You know that phonemenon where someone goes to a concert and they swear back and fourth the singer was making eye contact with them the entire time? Well, you were pretty sure Ville’s eyes didn’t leave yours for the entire set. He was gazing at you as if you were the only person in the entire world. However, you were pretty oblivious to this- all you were really paying attention to was the music. In fact, Bam noticed this even before you did, though at first he did think he was staring at him before that great, looking from one person to the other realization moment.

☆彡

He didn’t bring it up until you were stepping outside and getting into the waiting taxi, “How are you this oblivious?” Pulling your coat shut as you shook the snow out of your hair, you stepped down into the cab, “Huh?” Bam reached into his pocket, shoving a handful of twenty euro notes at the driver before turning to you, “Dude! He was givin’ you the eyes all night! Did you seriously not know he was into you?” The edge in Bam’s voice struck you as odd, but you were certainly listening now. “If I was in your shoes, Y/N- I’d be all over that shit in a heartbeat.” You still didn’t believe what he was saying. Why would a man like Ville- a man as famous as him (and as adored by women as him) want anything to do with you? You are barely a B list star in America. You weren’t a model or a pop star or anything- you got famous for hanging out with a guy who was fameous, which was nothing. Turning to look out the window as the snow flurried by in the pitch black night, you shrugged as the car sped off.

Bam received a phone call that night- from Ville, of course, grilling him for everything he knew about you. “From the moment I saw her, we had this…connection.” He mused, speaking in that flowery way he did when he was very passionate about something, “I have to have her. I’m sure you know what I mean, right?” Hushing the shock in his voice so he wouldn’t wake you, he leaned in close to the receiver, “Hold your horses, man- you just met her!” Oh, it’s not as if he would understand how he felt about you. Compared to him, Bam was a teen boy when it came to romance. But Ville’s fame usually got him what he wanted and, not wanting to appear lame in front of a man he respected so much, it only took a little priding to get your friend to eventually spill all the information he needed.

It was only a surprise to you when you discovered what was waiting in front of your hotel room door the next morning. A bouquet of flowers- your favorite flowers, which definitely weren't in season that time of year- bundled together with a black, silk ribbon. You examined them curiously, turning over the attached card and gasping when you saw who it was from. Maybe Bam was right about that.

★彡

Bam was in director mode the entire time you tagged along with him to the shoot, which is a nice way to say he was being a meticulous jerk. There was this whole production setup, with all these big cameras and mics and wires strewn about the floor- real professional looking, nothing like the run and gun camcorder stuff you were used to. It was dazzling enough to walk through this huge, baroque manor in the middle of the Czechian countryside, but to film in it?

Now, you didn’t catch the beginning of this argument, but while you were drooling over the fancy equipment, you heard something about the European model chick they were intending to have in the video running late. Despite this, Ville seemed surprisingly nonchalant about the situation as he reasoned with Bam, “Why don't we just use her?” Bam huffed out some response about how expensive it was to get this lady and Ville’s eyes wandered over to you, “I mean,” Ignoring him, he looked you up and down, speaking barely loud enough you could hear him, “she’s already very beautiful- She wouldn’t need very much hair and makeup.” Bam gave up his protest and went over to begrudgingly drag you to the makeup tables, mumbling something about this only being a practice run. All of this was leaving you confused and far more flustered than you could care to admit.

You weren’t sure what to make of everything that was happenings, and Bam’s very barebones direction of ‘be sexy’ right before the camera started rolling wasn’t helping much. It also didn’t help that you had this absolutely angelic man in front of you, serenading you completely shirtless. This is the kind of thing middle aged women read paperbacks to expereince, and there you were. While you tried your damndest to act all minxy (and frankly failing at it), Vile was so effortlessly confident. This incubus was bewitching you, and you were falling for his spell.

☆彡

That night, after the shoot, the three of you met up at the pub down the road. Ville greeted you with one of those cute European double cheek kisses, your skin being warmed by the yellow streetlamp you were standing underneath. Bam, who was standing right next to you, turned his face in anticipation, but the only thing he received from Ville was a friendly pat on the back (which was more of a shove) towards the door, “The bar’s that way! Go get yourself a drink.” It sent him stumbling ahead of you two and he looked back with bewilderment as you felt an arm slip around your shoulders. Despite the fact that you looked an awful lot like a couple, you didn’t mind being seen with this eye candy. Walking with Ville by your side was like walking through a dream. These beautiful women and beautiful men that lined the dark, wood paneled halls of the old pub all greeted him with admiration as you made your way to the bar. Some of the bolder women even reached out to touch him with fond, feather light caresses as he passed by, which he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“You were wonderful today, Y/N.” Ville took the seat next to yours at the bar, leaning against the counter as he spoke in that mesmerizing way he did whenever he was talking to you, “Honestly, we’re thinking of using that take in the final video- you were much better than that model.” Your eyes went wide, and so did Bam’s as he leaned around you, “What’re you talking about? She was great!” This whole music video business was drawing a wedge between the two of them, and you were caught in the middle of it. Bam waved his hands to dismiss the notion. “Whatever- you know what?I think it went really well today.” It was odd- if it was anyone else but Ville he was taking to, you knew he would’ve stood his ground a little more. Even the way he talked around him was different. Bam shrugged, taking a swig of his beer to look nonchalant, “I just got some editing to do tomorrow and I should have somethin’ by the end of the day.” Your attention was drawn away as, leaning in towards you to be heard over the chatter of the bar, Ville murmured close to your ear, “Maybe while Bam’s busy doing that, I could show you around Helsinki tomorrow. Hmm?”

Well, how could you say no to that?

★彡

The next morning, Ville picked you up in front of your hotel and took you around to these beautiful, romantic spots. One among the many you visited was this gigantic church: Helsinki Cathedral, he told you it was called. Up the marble steps, you wandered about the stark, white columns near the entrance as Ville went on about the history of this building, “If I recall, it was built in tribute to Nicolas the first- back when this land was under Russian rule in the 1840s.” Though you would never say this aloud, you were really surprised at his knowledge of history. Ville was nothing like the grimey skater dudes that you usually hung around. He had this intelligent, charming air about him, and it helped that he didn’t smell like you sprayed a whole can of Axe body spray into a bag of Jack Links.

You didn’t even notice that he was looking at you as he mused aloud, “If I were to ever get married, Y/N, It would certainly be here.” From the second you walked in the room back at the club, Ville had his sights set on you. If it were a socially acceptable thing to do, Ville would’ve asked you to move in with him right then and there, but unfortunately he had some awareness of social graces. And as he stood on the steps with you, Ville just knew you would look like a princess dressed in white- an angel. He let his thoughts run wild a bit from there. Your lips were moving but the only thing he could hear was church bells.

Maybe not that fast- you were a sensible woman after all, Ville thought, and you didn’t seem the type to jump to get hitched to a man only because he was famous and interested. But that didn’t stop him from trying to subtly plant that thought in your head, conveniently taking a detour on the way back to your hotel to show you that wooden bridge in town that lovers and newlyweds place locks on to proclaim their affections for one another.

☆彡

You and Bam shared this look of confusion when the front desk lady told you there was something wrong with your reservation. A call was placed earlier and you had already checked out, she said, but despite Bam’s frustrated explanation that you already paid for that night, she wouldn’t hear him out- no refunds, hotel policy. Staring out the front window at the snow that was blustering by in the less than negative temperatures that were typical of a Helsinki winter, you racked your mind for options. Bam beat you to it, closing his flip phone with a click, “I just got off the phone with Ville-'” That knowing grin spread further across his face as he continued in a tone that indicated he was very proud of himself, “and he said we could crash at his flat for the night. He’s sending a car right now!”

A few moments later, the concierge let Bam know that he had a phone call for him. Reaching over the counter, he grabbed the receiver and pressed it to his ear, not noticing that you had slipped out the door even after you turned and called to him as you left, “Hey, I’ll wait out front!” It was really well choreographed- Ville called him just as that hot, black car pulled up in front of the hotel. Rolling down the window, he took in the sight of you there, standing under the yellow glow of that street lamp, waiting for him in the cold like some abandoned puppy on the side of the road. It was cute. You were walking around to the other side of the car as he lifted up the phone he was conveniently hiding below the window and pressed it to his ear, mumbling an “I'll call you back,” to Bam before flipping it shut. Sliding onto the warm, leather seat next to Ville was a welcome respite from the cold as you sighed, closing the door. He smiled at you and gently took your hand, placing a sweet kiss on your knuckle- this prince charming move that made you wonder if this was also a common gesture in Finland as you blushed and stammered, “Thanks for the, uh- thanks for the ride. How’s Bam gonna, like- get to your place…?” He shrugged nonchalantly, sitting back and looking back out the window as you sped off. “Oh, I just talked to him. We’re sending another car later to pick him up- he’ll be fine.” Once again, Ville’s fame got him what he wanted. The only thing he needed to do was make a phone call.

After you were done kissing your hellos, he talked with you on the drive to his place, but not the way Bam usually did- he wasn’t talking at you. Instead, Ville asked you how you were liking Finland or if you’d ever thought of moving here- he’d be happy to get you a place to stay and help you with the language if you were interested. Honestly, he made the whole concept of leaving your life in America behind sound pretty damn promising.

☆彡

“Wow…your place is really nice.” You looked arround with awe as you walked in the door, and even through the dimness you could tell it was a pretty upscale apartment. “I don’t spend a lot of time here- really. Just a place to crash between tours.” The only light in the room came from Ville’s fridge as he opened it, leaning inside. “Something to drink?” Sitting on his couch timidly, you gave him an, “mmhm,” and he came back with two beers, placing on on the glass coffee table and opening the other himself. Blue light cascaded onto his delicate features from the window that sat behind you, the only way you saw him in the darkness.

You couldn’t place your finger on what was so bewitching about Ville, but you had this whole image of him in your head already. He probably paints and writes poetry in this apartment, you thought. He probably spends his evenings on this very sofa, idly sipping wine for hours before throwing on his coat to solemnly wander about misty graveyards and lament the fleetingness of life and love while placing roses on headstones. He just seemed like the type.

The whole time the two of you were chatting over drinks and discussing how well the video went, Ville kept getting calls that he would quickly hit the ignore button on without any explanation. This would’ve set off red flags in any sane person, but at this point you couldn’t exactly consider yourself sane with the way you were drawn to him. What you didn’t know was who was calling him- Bam, who’d been waiting for that car to show up for the past two hours. That was until he called you and you quietly excused yourself to take it. “Dude! Okay, okay, okay-” He rambled on, “so basically- all the hotel shit’s sorted out! There was an issue with some system- i know- and they gave us all this complementary free shit!” From the way Bam was slurring his words, you could tell he was already making a dent in the mini bar. Still, you were relieved that everything got sorted out, however suspicious the circumstances.

But despite how happy Ville seemed to hear the news, you could tell there was something else happening in his head. Standing up, you were making your way toward the door when you felt something stop you. It was a hand- pale, long fingers firmly grasping your arm, and there was something possessive about the way it held onto you, like someone holding onto something for dear life. “Ville…?” Turning to him, the only way you could make out his presence was from the way the light flooding in the window silhouetted him. There was this aching, earnestness in his voice. “Don’t go. Don’t leave Finland.” There was something in his pleading words that made you think that he wouldn’t know what tomorrow would bring if he woke up and you weren’t there. “What? You- you want me to stay?” Answering your silent question of ‘how long?’, Ville continued, all but encouraged by the sympathy bubbling up in the corners of your eyes. “I don't know: a day, a month- a year? Forever? Just, please- don’t leave. I need you.”

“My heart, my body- my soul needs you. Just…stay.”