#( if not for the fact that i'd be watching it in italian )

[clochanamarc]

this is a placeholder for a little post i like to call "giving people superpowers does not naturally mean they're OP and in fact making characters OP is a lot more difficult than people realize" but i wanna write smth ic first okay? okay <3

[longagoitwastuesday]

Do you have favorite actors for the various roles in "Cyrano de Bergerac"? I would love to hear your thoughts!

I do! I actually rambled a lot about this while I was watching the different productions I could get my hands on (I tagged it "Cyrano de Bergerac" and "I talk too much").

My favorite productions are the one with José Ferrer and the one with Benoit Solès, and those actors make the best Cyranos in my opinion. Though that's probably something in part beyond the actors' choice, their dynamic with their respective Roxane and Christian are the best ones, I think, and I find how Cyrano moves around these two particular characters at the core of a good Cyrano characterisation.

José Ferrer's use of his voice, which is arguably Cyrano's true most characteristic feature, is unmatched imo (although McAvoy does a very good job with this too), and he manauvers very well several of the different aspects of the character, such as his playfulness, his shittiness and longing. By the end of the play you believe he is the most beautiful man on Earth. Cyrano, however, is a bit pathetic (not just in a "pathos" way), and I'd say Ferrer gives off an air full of dignity very fitting of many scenes, but that eats almost entirely this aspect of Cyrano; Benoit Solès manages this very well, while also playing well with some of the other ones, such as the playfulness, the longing, the pain and the despair. Both Ferrer and Solès are hilarious, tender, a bit shitty, vulnerable, playful and sad. Albeit neither of them portrays 100% what Cyrano is, I think both come pretty close in slightly different flavours, and by the end of the play one ends up being terribly fond of them.

My favourite Roxane is Clara Huet in the production with Benoit Solès, but Mala Powers in the 1950 film is a close second. I think they portray wonderfully Roxane's spunk, and her mix of honest playful cheerfulness and her haughtiness, her intelligence and wit, and how much like Cyrano she is.

I've not come to love for now any Christian as much as I've loved Ferrer, Solès, Huet and Powers, but again I think the Christians in the 1950 film and the Solès productions are very very good. I love the dynamic they have with their Cyranos, especially the one Christian and Cyrano have in the 1950 film, enhanced positively by the added scenes (they actually work so well in showing their developing as friends, their deep love and care for each other!). I don't want to expand too much on this to avoid spoilers (beyond the already known 'Christian dies' ones I mean), but some things they do with both these Christians are a thing of genius, and both feel vulnerable, kind, ready to fight and truly desperate at times; I like when they do that.

There's an Italian production which has a Cyrano I truly enjoy as well, despite how they dumbify him more than I usually like my Christians. His mix of anger and deep pain when he discovers Cyrano's feelings for Roxane were so well made, and his physical presence makes you identify who Christian is even before the play starts.

The Podalydès production has two different Christians. The one in the version on youtube isn't bad, but @ride-a-dromedary likes Éric Ruf a lot. I actually adore him based on the clips and gifs she's posted of him, but I haven't been able to find the version with him online, so I can't know. But he truly seems one of the best. Based on what little I've seen, I love his intense gazes and subtle gestures.

I'm not entirely sold on any Le Bret, De Guiche or Ragueneau yet.

I think the German musical has a decent Ragueneau in vibes, and the 1990 French film does as well. I found his poem made song for what I think is a Spanish production (I'm not sure if it's a fan creation based on the Spanish production), and while I've not been able to find that production online, the song works well in vibes too I think.

The German musical's Le Bret in vibes is very good. He encompasses well his deep love and worry for Cyrano while also being done with his shit. They truly feel like close friends. The 1950 film kind of combines Gaston de Castel-Jaloux and Le Bret into one character, which sadly changes Le Bret's dynamic with Cyrano a bit, but that's a very good Le Bret as well. The one in Solès' production is pretty good too. He has my favourite delivery of the scene in which Le Bret chastises Cyrano for risking his life sending letters.

De Guiche is complicated. I think productions often make him too pathetic and laughable or too bad, so bad it makes the last act kind of not make sense. The 1950 one, the 1990 French one, the Kevin Kline one and the Solès one are all good, but I am not passionate for any of them either.

And basically that's it!

[ambreiiigns]

brother's slashers tier list updated + he wanted to make one for the slasher characters specifically

[weasleyreidstyles]

on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

[theosbutterfly]

the best thing at this party — t. nott

❝ fighting in only your army frontlines, don't you ignore me i'm the best thing at this party ❞

pairing: jealous!theo x malfoy!reader

context: at yours and draco's annual back-to-hogwarts bash, a pair of weasleys show up uninvited, much to theo's dismay.

words: 2.3k+

warnings: jealousy, somewhat possessive behavior, reader's kind of a bitch, theo's kind of an asshole, marijuana use, alcohol use, vomiting, a little fluff, mainly angst

"so where's the principessa?" you hear theo bring you up in conversation as you and pansy descend the stairs to join the boys in the foyer. "taking extra time to fix up her hair?"

"é un dato di fatto, lo ero," as a matter of fact, i was. you lean a hand against the banister, stopping on the last step, eyes focusing on theo. there's a chance you may or may not have learned italian just to make sure he couldn't insult you without your knowledge—not that it stopped him, but at least this way, you could defend yourself. "it takes time to look this good. but glad to know you noticed my absence."

"ooh, she got you there, mate," blaise chuckles, placing a hand on theo's shoulder, who shrugs it off.

"whatever," he spat, rolling his eyes. "i need a drink."

"finally something i can get on board with," mattheo points a finger at him, and they both turn to head towards the sitting room, pansy trailing closely behind them.

"is pans still trying to get with matt?" enzo asks, tilting his head up at you as they walked away.

"beats me," you shrugged, stepping down the last step and glancing between them. "now, why are you two standing here like a bunch of statues? last i checked, party's over there." you point your thumb towards the parlor, which appeared to be glowing green.

"the gate's still open," blaise shrugs. "draco wants us to watch for 'undesirables'."

"undesirables?" you repeat the word just so he could hear how ridiculous it sounded. "has he gone mad?"

"he wants to make sure no one from the other houses show up," blaise clarifies.

"fuck that," you shake your head. "come on." you link your arms with one of blaise's and one of enzo's, waving a finger up in the air. "colloportus!" the spell causes the front door and front gate to seal shut, as you begin walking with blaise and enzo towards the music. "now, where's dobby?"

your house elf immediately appears in front of you at the sound of his name.

"dobby is here, miss y/n," he looks up at you. "what can dobby do for you?"

you unlink your arms from blaise and enzo's and crouch down to be eye level with him. "fetch me the good liquor from the cellar downstairs, and then come find me when you've got it."

he nods. "dobby is on it miss y/n!"

—

"what are you doing standing here all alone?" daphne greengrass saunters over to theo, who was leaning against the bar, a drink in hand.

"daphne greengrass," theo greets her. "i'm surprised you're here. wouldn't the head girl disapprove of rowdy parties as such?" he waves his drink towards the crowd that had turned the malfoy's parlor into a makeshift dance floor, and she chuckles.

"i'm turning over a new leaf," she shrugs, taking a sip of her own drink. "it is our last year, after all."

"thank merlin for that," you walk between them, and lean over the bar to reach for four shot glasses.

"y/n," daphne's voice is strained as she clears her throat. "nice to see you."

you stand up straight after retrieving what you were looking for and turn your head towards her. "i'd say the same, but i'm not a liar."

theo shifts his eyes between the two of you, slightly amused at the way daphne takes a deep breath to keep her composure while you throw her a close-lipped smile.

"where'd you get the bottle, y/n?" he cuts in to prevent a cat fight from breaking out between you and daphne, and eyes the bottle of fire whiskey in your hand.

you look at him. "i had dobby fetch it from the cellar," you say. "pans and i are gonna drink it dry."

"just the two of you?" he raises an eyebrow, condescension painting his features. "does draco know about that?"

"why?" you challenge. "are you gonna go run off and tattle on me?"

before he could reply, another voice cuts in. "oi, malfoy! are we getting pissed or what?"

you turn your attention away from theo to the one of the weasleys you'd found lurking around the corners. "well, you're quite the impatient one, aren't you, freddie?"

heat rises in theo's chest when he gets a better look of the guy under the green light, and realizes its a weasley. what the hell was he doing here? and why were you allowing it?

"time is of the essence, darling," fred tells you. "george and i are trying to get a taste of this drink you've got before we inevitably get kicked out of here."

"what are you doing here, weasley?" theo speaks through gritted teeth, and looks at you. "you invited them?"

"of course not," you shrug. "they snuck in."

theo's eyes narrow at you. "and you're offering them a drink instead of throwing them out?"

"they ditched their house colors to don ours for the night," you tell him, eyes focused on fred. "i think that deserves them a little taste of slytherin."

theo doesn't miss the way fred's eyes trail over your body, and rolls his eyes. "maybe even more than a little," fred smirks.

you giggle at his words, but before you could walk away with him, theo grabs the back of your arm, pulling you close, his lips right above your ear. "cosa fai?" what are you doing?

you tilt your head up to have your eyes meet his. "mi sto divertendo," i'm having fun. "dovresti provarlo qualche volta." you should try it sometime.

you yank your arm out of his hold and don't give him a chance to respond, waltzing away towards the crowd.

"merlin, she is fit," fred comments, watching the way your hips sway as you walk away. "is she seeing anyone?"

"if she was, it certainly wouldn't be you," theo tells him.

"we'll see about that, mate. excuse me," fred throws him a smirk, before walking away to follow you across the room.

theo watches as he does, bringing his glass up to his lips to finish of his drink.

"do you-" daphne starts, but he doesn't let her finish, slamming his glass down on the bar and walking off.

—

"you all look pissed," pansy stumbles over to the guys, who were seated in a secluded area of the manor that was somewhat devoid of all the noise from the party in the parlor, passing around a joint.

"not as much as you, it seems," mattheo chuckles as she falls beside him, head falling against his shoulder. "where you been?"

"drinking with y/n," she says, eyes slowly fluttering close.

"that was your first mistake," enzo tuts, taking a long drag and inhaling. "that girl can drink double her weight in alcohol."

"mhm," pansy hums, eyes fully closing as her body falls limp against mattheo.

"alright," mattheo shifts, just enough to wake her and get her up on her feet. "look like someone's had enough for the night. come on." he begins to the guide pansy out of the room, his eyes telling the guys that he'd be right back.

"what the bloody hell did they even drink?" blaise asks, shifting his eyes between theo and enzo.

"fire whiskey," theo blows smoke out of his mouth and takes another drag. 

blaise's eyes widen. "and they didn't think to share? bloody wankers."

"they were too busy sharing it with y/n's new conquests," theo replies bitterly, passing the joint off to him.

"seems to me she's sharing more than that," enzo cuts in, raising his silver flask to point at you and fred on the opposite side of the room, where surely enough, you were tucked between him and the wall, one hand beside your head and one hand on you waist.

"oh, bloody hell," theo rolls his eyes, pulling a chuckle out from enzo.

"who is that guy anyway?"

"fred weasley," theo grits out.

"you're bloody kidding," blaise snickers, leaning forward to flick off some ash from the a joint. 

"oh, i'm bloody serious," theo nods. "he's been eye-fucking her since she showed him the tiniest bit of attention. it was quite pathetic, if you ask me."

"what's with the bitterness, mate?" enzo asks, attention shifting to theo. "you jealous?"

theo scoffs. "jealous? please. non durerà in alcun modo." no way that's gonna last. you weren't exactly the "relationship" type.

enzo shakes his head. "no clue what that means, but it didn't sound nice."

"you know how y/n is," theo tells him, hand motioning towards you and fred across the room. "it's nothing but a game to her."

"so what?" blaise asks, handing the joint over back to enzo. "you bitter she won't let you play?"

"who won't let who play?" mattheo rejoins them, and sits back down beside theo.

"theo's jealous fred weasley's got his claws in y/n," enzo catches him up.

"alright," theo stands from the sofa, no longer wanting to hear anymore of it. "i'm done with this shit."

—

unfortunately for theo, the second he headed for the bar and away from the boys, you were also already there with fred.

"alright, freddie, what's it gonna be?" your body was bent over the bar counter, fred's eyes trailing over it as you tried to reach for two different bottles. "rum or brandy?"

"oh, i'm in the mood for something much tastier, love," fred flirts, causing theo to roll his eyes.

"bloody hell," you hear theo mutter, and stand up straight after taking a hold of the two bottles you were looking for. "can't you two do this elsewhere?"

"well, no one's forcing you to stand there and watch," you retort, eyes shooting him an ice cold glare.

"for merlin's sake," he groans, clearly frustrated. "if you wanna fuck him, at least do it in one of the many private rooms upstairs so you can at least keep some of your dignity."

the words fall out of his mouth before he can stop them, making you scoff and set both bottles down before getting close to him to make sure he hears you loud and clear. "fuck you."

you walk away from both of them and head for the corridor, while fred looks at theo.

"that-"

"don't fucking say anything, weasley," theo cuts him off, and leaves him behind, legs immediately following after you.

"y/n, wait!" he takes grab of your wrist and pulls to make you stop and turn to look at him.

"get off!" you shake his hand off your wrist, arms crossing in front of your chest as you looked at him.

"oh, smettila di essere una tale stronza," oh, stop being such a bitch. he tells you.

"you know what theo-" you start to give him a piece of your mind, when an uneasy feeling suddenly creeps into your stomach and slides up the back of your throat. 

fuck.

you immediately push past him to head for the nearest bathroom and he follows, as your knees hit the cold tile floor and reminiscents of what you ate before you started drinking came pouring out into the toilet in front of you.

"alright," theo winces, crouching down beside you to take a hold of your hair and gently rub a hand up and down your back. "let it out."

—

"ugh," you complain, swinging your bedroom door open and proceeding inside as you tucked your now messed up hair behind your ears. "this was not how this night was suppose to go."

theo chuckles behind you, closing your door and tossing your heels down on the ground beside your dresser.

"oh, i'm so glad you find this amusing," you spat, undoing your hair and placing the bobby pins down on your vanity.

"i just find it funny that even after two years of drinking, you still can't hold shit down," he says, taking a seat at the edge of your bed.

you mimic his words, but don't actually say anything. "ugh!" you groan loudly when it suddenly becomes much harder to tug your dress off. "why is this not-"

you stop when you feel cold fingers trail across and down your back, your skin feeling like over a hundred degrees. "hai dimenticato di aprirlo, farfalla." you forgot to unzip it, butterfly.

your eyes threaten to flutter close at the deep sound of his voice, goosebumps rising upon your skin, as he slowly unzipped the back of your dress. "theo…"

his hand lingers above your lower back, as he leaned down, lips just right above your ear. "potresti fare meglio di weasley, lo sai?" you could do better than weasley, you know that?

his breath on your ear makes a shiver run down your spine, as your head tilted back against him. "mostramelo meglio allora." show me better then.

to anyone else, this would seem odd. but to the two of you, this was just how you worked. one second you were bickering, and the next, whispering sweet nothings. it was a dance that you both knew all too well.

though the thread he used to keep you at a distance threatened to snap, theo holds himself back—you were draco's baby sister. he wasn't suppose to want you. he couldn't.

"dovresti dormire un po'," you should get some sleep. he lets himself stay beside you for one more moment, before finally pulling away—to your disappointment.

"you're not gonna stay?" you grab at the sides of your dress to keep it from falling down as you turned to look at him.

"non posso," i can't. he shakes his head at you, despite your forming pout. he didn't know what he'd get himself into if he stayed, and a part of him was afraid to find out. "buona notte, farfalla."

good night, butterfly.

part 2 coming soon!!!

re-entering my slytherin boys era bc tension with theo is the BEST kind of tension, and hopefully this didn't disappoint.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

tags: @helendeath @freshlypickledpancakes

[nekronyancer]

My spin on a Papa V design

(yes I know I mixed up the eyes, I watched too much TikTok)

Now let's get to the fun part and see some fun facts and tidbits I came up with:

His name is Vano, which means unsuccessful, useless, pointless in Italian

He is -not surprisingly- another Nihil spawn

His signature color is marigold

He is a bit of an agnostic due to all the killings in his family(can you blame him?)

Manic pixie dream boy, a little bit insane(multiple gruesome deaths in the family does that to you)

Doomer/nihilist/depressed sadboy

He smells like incense and cigarettes

Definitely owns an opium pipe, whether he's using it or not is questionable

A tiny bit younger than Copia, by 5 years at max.

Roughly the same height as him, maybe taller by a hair

He was Nihil's rebound baby after things went south with Imperator

His paint is supposed to mimic robotic parts while still reminiscing a skull

He is the Papa to my cyberghouls

He's shaped like a dorito, broad shoulders and tiny waist, he looks elongated due to his body proportions while maintaining his ~5'7 height

And that's all I have for you right now, you can expect to see more of him in the future either way but I'd be happy if you shared your opinions on this silly man 🙏

[arhapsodyofwords]

She had a way of cutting me off when I spoke to her, and mingled with my love was a powerful resentment of her. All my life I'd watched her read her Italian books and scribble letters to people...yet she had no patience even to teach me or my brothers the alphabet...I was twenty and I couldn't read or write more than a few prayers and my name. I hated the sight of her books; I hated her absorption in them. And in some vague way, I hated the fact that only extreme pain in me could ever wring from her the slightest warmth or interest. Yet she'd been my savior. And there was no one but her. And I was tired of being alone..."

Re-reading The Vampire Lestat, it struck me that Lestat managed to recreate his childhood in Auvergne with Louis at 1132 Rue Royale.

He also found a partner who completely embodies his mother and triggers him in the same way. Gabrielle de Lioncourt was a very unhappy person who would escape her circumstances by reading, and she would spend all day doing this while neglecting Lestat when he was only a child.

Louis shares this reading habit with Gabrielle (as well as the ability to ignore his child while the other father torments her. "Come in the great hall and play chess with your father.").

I want to see these flashback scenes recreated in season 3 so badly.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Sophia Loren (Marriage Italian Style, Houseboat)—Major Italian star, first actress to win an Oscar for a performance not in English (for Two Women (1960)) and later when Roberto Benigni won an Oscar in 1999 he jumped over the chairs towards the stage going "Sophia Sophia!!" because he was running towards Sophia Loren and said he cared more about her than the Oscar, that's the effect she had on people. She was big in the 60s already even though she gained a lot more notoriety after that. And I mean. Can we take a moment and just.

Pola Negri (The Wildcat, Men, A Woman Commands)—Legally obliged to submit her as she's from Poland, but also it is one of the greatest stars of silent film, both in Hollywood and Europe, so she has to be here. The og femme fatale and a fenomenal dramatic actress. And just so hot in this 1920s vamp style. Obviously her career slowed down in America with the introduction of sound movies, because of her accent and low voice. I'd say her voice is so much hotter thanks to that, but I'm just a simple simp. But then she made movies in Germany, and after the war she was even offered Gloria Swanson's role in "Sunset Boulevard'' but she declined. She was probably bisexual as after romances with Charlie Chaplin and Rudolf Valentino in the 20s, since the 1940s she lived with her 'female friend'.

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

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Sophia Loren:

She has maxed out all her stats: beauty, elegance, sensuality, she's got it all. her mesmerizing eyes, her sensual mouth, her sharp face shape, her everything is so striking and unlike any other beauty in films. she was also voted the world most beautiful woman when she was freaking 65

im submitting her in honor of my dad bc she was the first celebrity crush of his he ever admitted to me and my sister :) and he was right. shes so pretty

OSCAR WINNER. Worked with some of the hottest leading men in Hollywood but remained faithful to her husband whom she had a loving marriage with till he died (even though Cary Grant almost tempted her once, it's complicated)

One of the most well-known sex symbols of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and unlike some unfortunate others, she seems to have been pretty well at peace with occupying that status. She made assertiveness and a tempestuous temper seem glamorous, and although she's famous for side-eying Jayne Manisfield's cleavage, honestly? She's one to talk.

Absolutely, drop-dead sexy, also a hard working, extraordinarily talented actress who didn't shy away from the less glamorous roles to gift us some gritty, memorable performances

Submitting this on behalf of my dad, who knows nothing of tumblr or this blog, but I remember being a kid watching Houseboat while my mom thirsted after Cary Grant, dad thirsted after Sophia Loren, and I was excited that they lived on a boat. Anyway, she's extremely beautiful and was an international star, doing a ton of movies in Italy before being recognized in the US.

JUST LOOK AT HER Y'ALL

Very smart and beautiful, the characters that she played (I mean those in the movies that I put in the previous question) are as strong and determined as her which I think adds to her hotness.

Global superstar and my late grandfather's long time movie star crush and for a man as quiet as he was, and as hopelessly devoted to his wife as he was, the fact that I know that means she was EXCEPTIONAL.

Big in the chest, snatched in the waist, pretty in the face 😳

Sexy, beautiful, deep. A real star.

Her performance in "Man of La Mancha" is just so very captivating. Dubbed as "the Italian Marilyn Monroe", she looks beautiful in any movie and at any age.

Forget the exotic sexpot of her Hollywood films and go back to her Italian career: sparking with Marcello Mastroianni as the woman who drives him mad and outwits all his fumbling attempts at macho posturing in their early films, and showing a tender side in their 1970s films. Sophia isn’t self-conscious about who she is or her beautiful body: she enjoys being herself and she wants us all to enjoy ourselves too.

She starred in films as a sexually emancipated persona and was one of the best known sex symbols of the time. She is a great cook and her filmography is immense.

On the misattributed quote that Sophia owed everything to spaghetti: 'Did you actually say the quote frequently attributed to you, "Everything you see I owe to spaghetti"?' "Non è vero! It's not true! It's such a silly thing. I owe it to spaghetti, no, no. Completely made up."

Pola Negri:

A tempestuous green-eyed vamp of the silent screen, she tantalized with both her onscreen and offscreen romances. Rocked a Polish accent - well, once there was sound! A true proficient at promoting herself and using all possible tools to do so - from a dead Rudolf Valentino to a cheetah named Teddy, the latter of which she brought to a press conference.

First European actress to be contracted by Hollywood! She survived poverty and illness to become The Queen of Tragedy, she divorced a count to date stars like Charlie Chaplin and Rudolph Valentino, then spent the rest of her life living with Margaret West in what could have been a romantic relationship.

I don't have much to say about her actual career, personal life, etc. but I just need everyone to see how hauntingly beautiful her face is. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since the first time I saw her LOL like its pretty clear why she was such a star

[dalekowrites]

What would your favourite choice of the games interactive stories be? Would you have a favourite type? Romance, Fantasy etc. and did any of the inspire you with the ones you are currently writing? 😁

Oh boy! This is going to be a long answer, brace yourself lol

Let me start by saying that I have a degree in English literature (in fact, I'm going to do a PhD on it), so reading, in general, is one of the core activities of my life.

As for text adventures, even if not from Choice of Games Ltd., I'd like to mention a few inspirations: my passion first came from the original Choose Your Own Adventure series, and I still remember which numbers obsessed me as a child: Mountain Survival #28, The Dragons' Den #33, and more than any other, Space Patrol #22! (The latter may have also fueled my unhealthy obsession with Star Trek TOS, actually). For those unfamiliar with this fantastic book series, the genres of the three books I mentioned are, respectively, adventure, fantasy, and sci-fi. This gives you an idea of how varied my tastes are...

Later on, I discovered interactive fictions and text adventures. Dude, it was a dream come true. I started with Adventure ('76, never finished it, of course) and Zork ('79, never finished that either… of course. How damn hard were they?!). Then Mystery Mansion ('78), Castle Adventure ('82), and too many, many others. I'm a sucker for Sorcery! from inkle, and I deeply loved Magium (RIP Chris, you won't be forgotten). For my Italian-speaking friends, I also really enjoyed the Fra Tenebra e Abisso series (although its current status is unknown).

But back to CoG-related things. I've read a lot, and I'd probably be faster telling you what I didn't like! As you may have figured out by now, I don't have any particular genre preferences as long as a story is well-written, though horror-thriller stories usually grab my attention more easily.

Important note: I've read a lot of stories and, with a few exceptions, I liked most of them. To avoid writing a too-long list, here are the published stories that really impressed me:

A Crown of Sorcery and Steel,

A Midsummer Night's Choice,

Blood for Poppies,

Blood Moon,

Broadway: 1849,

Choice of the Cat,

Choice of the Vampire,

Donor,

Doomsday on Demand (1 and 2),

Gilded Rails,

Golden Rose: Book One,

Jazz Age,

Lies Under Ice,

Life of a Mercenary,

Life of a Space Force Captain,

MetaHuman Inc.,

Noblesse Oblige,

Paradox Factor,

The Evertree Saga (all four books),

Rent-a-Vice,

Revolution Diabolique,

Siege of Treboulain,

Tally Ho,

The Daily Blackmail,

The Dragon and the Djinn,

The Fernweh Saga: Book One,

The Fog Knows Your Name,

The Gray Painter,

The Grim and I,

The Ghost and the Golem,

The Lost Heir,

The Midnight Saga: The Monster,

The Parenting Simulator,

The Play's the Thing,

The Soul Stone War (1 and 2),

The War for the West,

Tudor Intrigue,

Vampire Regent,

Vampire: The Masquerade (all of them),

Way Walkers: University (1 and 2),

Welcome to Moreytown,

Werewolves: Haven Raising,

Zombie Exodus,

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven.

And now, onto works in progress! There aren’t that many because I barely have time to follow my own (heh…), so here, in alphabetical order, are the ones I'm following with the most interest:

Adoriel's Tears (@adoriels-tears-if),

A Father's Love (@kal-down),

Crown of Ashes and Flames (@coeluvr),

Dawn Chorus (@dawnchorus-if)

Disenchanted (@disenchantedif),

Dragon's Edged (@dragonedged-if),

Elysium (@elysiumcircusif),

Fallen Lights (@fallenlightsif),

For King and Country (@forkingandcountry-if),

From The Ashes We Rise (@kal-down),

Hubris (@hubris-the-if-game),

Kingdoms and Empires (@kingdoms-and-empires),

Return to Misty Cove (@fluorescent-if),

The Abyssal Song (@ri-writes-if),

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - An affair of the heart (@doriana-gray-games),

The Lonely Shore (@thelonelyshore-if),

The King's Hound (@the-kingshound),

The Reaper Watches Me (@thereaperwatchesme),

The Bureau (@thebureau),

The Unseelie (@theunseelieif),

Van Helsing (@vanhelsing-if),

When Life Gives You Lemons (@when-life-gives-you-lemons-if).

Okay, that was… a lot. As for direct inspirations, I don't have any direct ones, but I can say I felt like writing a post-apocalyptic story after reading Doomsday on Demand! Other than that, I guess the collection of narrative, text adventures, and interactive fiction I've read have led me to where I am now.

Damn, it took me hours to write this answer. I hope it's satisfying at least! Thanks for asking ☺

[coimbrabertone]

The Best F1 Season For A Non-Contender?

Well, the biggest story coming out of the 2024 United States Grand Prix is without a doubt the Verstappen/Norris thing.

To recap, Lando is coming after Max hard, gets run on the backstraight after run on the backstraight, but keeps going to the outside and can't pull the move off.

Finally, on lap 52, Lando has a good enough run that he's ahead, on the outside, but ahead. So what then?

Well, Max Verstappen is on the inside so he just divebombs to get the apex, goes wide, pushes Lando wide with him, and Lando has to pass around the outside in the runoff.

He's finally ahead.

Except no, fuck you, this is F1 and fun isn't allowed.

So the stewards are investigating this move where no contact was made, nobody got hurt, and there was enough runoff all around to land an Antonov AN-225 in.

And Lando gets the penalty. Lando.

Why? Overtaking off track.

Lando is 4.1 seconds ahead at the end of the race, gets dropped behind Max in the standings, everyone on social media is pissed. Some people - who are wrong - think that Max had the right because he was in front at the apex, others think Lando should've just given the position back and retaken it on track, which probably would've been the smart play in retrospect.

It's also kinda the racing equivalent of cuckolding though, isn't it?

Like, are we really watching for someone to have to give up a position to avoid getting a penalty?

"Ah yes sir, you drove me off track like a prick sir, but here's the position sir, have a good one sir."

Ridiculous.

Anyway, I'm sure this is the 97th different place you've heard about this incident, so I'll leave it there. Instead, I'm gonna talk about something overshadowed by all the petty bullshit going on between these two championship contenders.

And that's the fact that Charles Leclerc is quietly putting together a dream season.

First, he wins the Monaco Grand Prix. Winning Monaco is already a feather in the cap for an F1 driver, but it's also his home race, so that might just be one of the most special wins imaginable. Especially when you consider how miserable Charles' luck at Monte Carlo has been before now.

Then, he wins the Italian Grand Prix in a Ferrari for the second time, no less. He's won his own home race and he's won his team's home race, what more could you ask for in a season?

Well, the first race weekend back from his birthday on October 16th, Leclerc goes and leads home a Ferrari 1-2 at the United States Grand Prix. Now, I'm an American so the USGP is a special event for me - I wrote a blogpost all about its history last week - but I recognize that isn't the case for the Monegasque Leclerc.

Still, a GP win is still an amazing birthday present.

What a way to bounce back considering he was disqualified last year for plank wear as well.

So, that's three wins on the season, each one having something special about it. Does that make it the best season ever for a non-contender?

Well, that's a difficult question.

First things first, what do we consider a contender? In a way, everyone is contending for the championship, so they're all contenders.

Is it a potential shot at the championship then? Eh, probably not, because Leclerc still potentially has a chance at winning the championship.

So how about this: being a contender is having a realistic chance at the championship. So the championship leader and the direct challengers.

This year, I'd argue that's just Max and Lando, since Max has had the best car for years and started the season with easily the best car, while Lando has benefited from a recent surge by McLaren.

For another example, in 2007, I'd argue that Raikkonen, Alonso, and Hamilton were all contenders, but Massa was not.

So how about Massa's three-win season that year?

Well, he won Bahrain, Spain, and Turkey.

Two places without much connection to him, and then a track he already won at the year before.

In that respect, I'd argue 2006 was a more meaningful season for Massa. His first year in a Ferrari, he's far off Alonso and Schumacher, but he takes his first win at Turkey and then gets to win his home race at Brazil, solidifying his position as best of the rest.

Button 2010?

Eh, he's the reigning champion going into a good team like McLaren and ends up dropping away from the championship pack after Korea, and only takes two wins to his name: Australia and China.

I can't think of a reason those races would be special for him.

What about Button in 2011? Is he a contender that year? That's actually hard for me to say. He's second, he was painted as the challenger to Vettel, but he finished more than a hundred points off. Is that much of a rivalry?

Then again, can we really say 2011 only had one contender?

I'm not sure.

Canada, Hungary, and Suzuka are a decent set of tracks if you're gonna take three wins in a season, especially given how Canada went down, with it being Jenson's career drive.

That one could count then, I reckon.

How about further back in history?

What about 1966, when Ludovico Scarfiotti did literally two races - Germany and Italy - and won the latter. An Italian winning the Italian Grand Prix in a Ferrari has got to be special, right? Especially when you consider that this is the last time an Italian won the Italian Grand Prix. Not just in a Ferrari, but at all.

I suppose it's also as close as F1 has ever gotten to that 2006 Valencia Grand Prix in MotoGP where Troy Bayliss returned to MotoGP, filling in for the injured Sete Gibernau at one race at Ducati.

A race with Bayliss proceeded to win.

Troy hadn't won any races in full seasons with Ducati in 2003 and 2004, nor in his partial campaign with Camel Honda in 2005, but he comes back in 2006 as a replacement rider for one race and goes on to win that thing.

It's a wonderful racing moment, and Scarfiotti at Monza in 1966 is probably as close as F1 ever got to that.

Oh here's one.

Jody Scheckter in 1976. The whole world is watching Hunt vs. Lauda, McLaren vs. Ferrari, and here's Jody Scheckter in a six-wheeled Tyrrell casually winning the Swedish Grand Prix, taking four second places, and ending the season as best of the rest.

The Swedish Grand Prix was a great race for these one-off weird winners actually. Scheckter in the Tyrrell P34 in 1976, Jacques Laffite in the Matra V12 powered Ligier in 1977, and of course 1979 with Niki Lauda winning in the fan car.

Ooh, speaking of 1977, I think we have a contender!

...A contender for non-contenders? Yes actually.

Mario Andretti in 1977. He's got the Lotus 78, the first ground effect car in Formula One history, and it's not quite ready to win the championship, but it's still going on a tear.

Winning the USGP West at Long Beach, a home race for Andretti. Then winning at Spain and France, and finally winning the Italian Grand Prix, the other race Mario could call home. That sounds like an awful good season to me, potentially even better than Leclerc this year. He also finished third that year, so it lines up there as well.

How about this? We'll see if Leclerc can win another race or two this year, and if not, then I'll give it to Andretti. 1977, the best championship season for a non-contender.

Feel free to leave any notable seasons I missed in the comments below, I'm eager to hear what seasons y'all can come up with.

P.S

In other news this weekend, we had the Australian Grand Prix in MotoGP. Jorge Martin won the sprint and Marc Marquez the main race. The sprint was pretty uneventful save for a few scary crashes right at the end - particularly Bezzecchi and Vinales in turn one, with both riders thankfully walking away okay - while the race saw a pretty dramatic battle between Martin and Marquez at the end.

I don't exactly cheer for either guy, so it was a bit meh for me, but at least Phillip Island put on a good race.

As for NASCAR...quite frankly I didn't watch this weekend. I was watching F1 and after that I had a headache and I was mad about the Max/Lando stuff, so I just didn't want to bother with it. I hear Logano won though, which means he goes on to the championship four. Cue up the even year memes.

Even Penske tweeted a joke about that.

Penske tweeting jokes. Heh, that's a new one.

[archduchessofnowhere]

We talk about portrayals of Sisi, but I think that Franz Joseph was, if anything, even more misrepresented by the recent period dramas. How would you rank the portrayals of him you have seen/read (in historical novels)? Is there any piece of historical fiction that actually captures his character accurately?

Hello! YES I always focus on Elisabeth but he is also completely butchered in all these new series. I think I've said it before, but basically it's very hard to reconcile who FJ actually was (both as an emperor and as a person) with him being a love interest we as an audience can root for. Specially in these new adaptations in which Elisabeth is outspoken, mature and actively politically involved in the events of the empire (and not just the Compromise). Why would our Girl Boss protagonist want to be with a man who was bureaucracy made flesh, very conservative, and just kinda boring in general? It doesn't work. Thus, his personality also gets rewritten.

I don't really have a decided ranking, but off the top of my head I'd say these are my least to most favorite portrayals:

Sisi & Ich (2023): Do you hate Sisi adaptations that turn FJ into a horrible, abusive husband in order to make his wife look good? Well, this portrayal does just that. He is only very briefly in the movie but I hated every minute of it, personally I was mostly fine with the movie despite all its inaccuracies but there was one scene from this part that was a deal breaker for me. This movie should've been just two hours of Irma and Elisabeth traveling and nothing else.

Die Kaiserin (2022-): The solution of the screenwriters to the problem of "how do we make FJ likeable?" Basically turning him into his brother Maximilian lol. You see, he has liberal ideas but his evil mother doesn't let him pursue them! Oh, and he had nothing to do with those executions, that was also his mother! In fact everything bad he ever did was all his mother's fault, because he is not even governing, his mother is. By season 2 it almost seems that FJ has absolutely no idea what's going on in his own empire and needs to be explained basic thing like Italian nationalism. This series sanitizes FJ in levels that just aren't seen in any other adaptation, not even the Sissi Trilogy. You are watching the show and can't help but think "who is this guy???". The only thing he has in common with the real FJ is that he loves his wife, but the way their relationship is portrayed is so unlike the real couple that not even that makes him similar to his historical counterpart.

Sisi (2021-2024). This FJ is in the opposite end of the same spectrum as Die Kaiserin's FJ. Season 1 had the original take of not making FJ likeable, but instead they turned him in a borderline cartoonishly evil, violent and smug man. He smiles as he orders executions, he beats his aids for not reason, he openly cheats on his wife and publicly insults her in a fit of jealousy. Honestly I was baffled by this take, because even after all these bizarre changes they still went for a "Sisi and Franz's great love story!" approach for the series. Which was. A choice. They obviously wanted to make him like that so that he could go through a redemption arc thanks to his relationship with Sisi, but it was just not a well written arc, and when his personality does change in later seasons it doesn't feel like earned character grow but simply that the writers decided to tone down their original approach.

Yet I will admit I'm lowkey fond of this portrayal, I liked most of his storyline in season 2 (he spends most of the season bonding with a feral child and also definitely has a thing going on with Andrássy you can't convince me otherwise), and in season 3 I found myself agreeing with him. So yeah, utterly butchered FJ but in an entertaining way at least.

Sissi Trilogy: I'm honestly overall indifferent to this FJ; he is basically the blueprint for every posterior depiction that portrays him as a Prince Charming love interest. Yet, for all the overomantization of Elisabeth's early life, the movies don't shy away from telling us how FJ was directly responsible of the counter revolution executions. We even see how he is still hated in Hungary and Italy (at least until Sissi comes into the scene). A certain show from a certain straming service could learn that it's not necessary to completely sanitize his image and pin all his faults onto his mother to make Franz Josef into a palatable love interest.

Sisi (2009). I feel about this FJ almost the same as I feel about the Sissi Trilogy's FJ, but in this portrayal we do see more of him than just "Sisi's love interest". Also it's not always all the color of roses, he and Elisabeth disagree and fight more than once. His relationship with his brother Max is also really interesting, pity they only interact in like three scenes. Overall a solid take, if a bit romanticized and not particularly remarkable.

Kronprinz Rudolf (2006). Not a bad take but for what I remember they portrayed Taaffe as having this great influence over FJ and putting him against Rudolf. And like no the evil minister was not responsible for FJ distrusting his son He Was Like That.

Elisabeth das Musical: the only depiction on this list that I truly like, and it really proves that the only way to have a good FJ is to not make him into a love interest. He is only a supporting character and yet the musical nails the most important bits of his personality and his relationship with Elisabeth outstandingly well (loved his wife but never understood her, cheated yet still longed for her, let her go but always hoped she would comeback next to him). There's even room to also show his relationship with Rudolfl! The only thing that I don't really like is that they do portray his mother as having a lot of influence over him, but that's mostly because the musical has an outdated take on Sophie (which works pretty well in a storytelling level nonetheless!). Boote in der Nacht is the saddest song in the entire musical, and the musical is not even about FJ and Elisabeth as a couple. Just a great, nuanced and engaging take!

I know I'm missing a lot FJs but these are the ones that came to my mind right now; I don't think I've ever seen Franz Josef in a piece of media that isn't about Elisabeth or Rudolf. Thank you for your question!

[batsplat]

In fact Open is a mandatory book for vr46 boys :)

ohhhhhh thank you!! that is SUCH impressive archiving, I'm always in awe of how much material you've amassed. and very based of them, big W for italian motorcycle racing. it's a great book!! I love that they've read it! there's a lot of sports autobiographies that take care never to stray from the generic when telling their stories... but this one has so much character that even knowing other professional athletes have read it makes me want to quiz them about what they thought

seeing as I've been given an opportunity to proselytise about this book, here is how it opens:

it's a book about having a deeply complicated relationship with the thing you've been forced to dedicate your whole life to, about being in constant pain and asking yourself if it's really worth it, about never having been given the time and space to develop properly into your own person... about hating tennis and never quite being able to walk away from it. the misery of winning and the refusal to countenance losing. the burden of having the whole world narrativise your career and your life, denying you the chance to do so for yourself, of being constantly judged and being constantly found inadequate. about rivalries!! having your whole career ending up being inadvertently defined by One Guy who you just don't really understand and who you can never escape

what agassi does is put words to a lot of the underlying narratives and themes of sports that other athletes also come into contact with in one way or another but are far less capable of articulating. you'll be hard-pressed to find another book that captures the humanity of sports so well, its twisted appeal and why it's so compelling

like,, idk there's so much going on in that book that when I find out another athlete has read it, I do want to basically go through it with them chapter by chapter (obviously I have a full set of notes and a highlighting system with one colour dedicated just to the sampras rivalry, so I'm well prepared for this task). it's cool that they've read it! good healthy interest in sports narrativisation on their part. in this post I brought up one of my favourite excerpts from the book when discussing the vale/casey rivalry -

- and idk, this kind of thing is just so fun and interesting you kinda want to go around and get everyone's thoughts on it. also obviously on a personal level,, enjoy the motogp guys, adore agassi and that whole era of tennis, so it's a fun crossover for me specifically. yay

btw, a new interview with agassi was published in the nyt a few days ago that I'd defo recommend to anyone with even just a passing interest in the sport (once you scroll past the bits about the worst event in tennis). starts with the line “as far apart as you are on a tennis court, you can actually feel the other one very intimately". even when he's delving more into the nuts and bolts of the sport, he just kinda gets how to explain it in a way that taps into the fundamental narrative appeal of what you're watching

oh yeah that's the good stuff

[jackethockey]

NHL one shot

warnings: heavy smut, sexual content, detailed sex, offensive language

(jeremy x oc)

The moment Jeremy Swayman, the towering goaltender for the Boston Bruins, laid eyes on her, he felt his heart stumble in his chest. She was a vision amidst the bustling city crowd, her auburn hair catching the autumn sunlight and her emerald eyes sparkling with a mischief that made him want to know her secrets. He had just stepped out of the TD Garden after a grueling practice, the scent of ice and sweat clinging to his gear as he navigated through the throngs of die-hard fans. Jeremy had always been good at keeping his cool under pressure, but as he watched her from afar, sipping on a steaming cup of coffee and chuckling at something on her phone, he found himself utterly captivated. She was the kind of woman who could make any man drop his guard, and for the first time in his life, he didn't want to play it safe.

The air was charged with the electricity of a thousand whispers as he approached her, each step feeling heavier than the last. He was Jeremy Swayman, NHL star, and she was just a girl with a pretty smile and a love for the game. Yet, as their eyes met, something in that fleeting glance told him that she could be more than just a fan, more than just a girl. She looked up at him, surprise etched into her delicate features, and Jeremy felt his pulse quicken. He had seen her at a few games before, always sitting in the same seat, always wearing that vintage Boston Bruins cap that sat so perfectly on her head. But now, as their paths crossed in this random, chaotic dance of fate, he realized that he had to know her name, had to find a way to make her smile just for him.

"Hi," he murmured, his voice raspier than he had intended, but she seemed to melt at the sound of it. "I'm Jeremy."

Her eyes widened, the green depths swimming with excitement.

"I know," she replied with a shy smile, her cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink. "I've seen you play. You're amazing."

"Thank you," he said, his heart pounding in his chest. "But I'm just a guy who loves the sport. What brings you to the games?"

Her name was Emily, and she was a sports journalist, a fact that only served to intrigue him more. They talked for what felt like hours, about the nuances of the game, the thrill of scoring the winning goal, and the unspoken camaraderie that existed between players and fans. Jeremy found himself drawn to her wit, her passion, and the way she could dissect a play with the precision of a seasoned coach. Emily, for her part, was charmed by his humility and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about the ice. It was as if he saw the world through a different lens, one that was frosty and fast-paced, yet filled with a warmth that was impossible to ignore.

As the day turned to night, and the chill of the autumn air settled in, Jeremy knew he had to ask. 

"Would you like to grab dinner with me tonight?"

Emily looked at him, a mix of disbelief and excitement playing across her features.

 "I'd love to," she said, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to echo in the emptying streets.

The restaurant was a cozy Italian place, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, they shared stories of their lives, their dreams, and their fears. Jeremy spoke of the pressure to perform, the weight of expectations, and the camaraderie of the locker room. Emily, in turn, revealed her love for the written word, the rush of adrenaline she got from being ringside at a game, and the quiet solitude of her apartment, where she penned her articles. They laughed, they connected, and somewhere between the breadsticks and the dessert menu, Jeremy felt something shift within him. This wasn't just an innocent dinner; it was the beginning of something much more profound.

Their first kiss came as a surprise, a gentle brush of their lips that seemed to speak of a future filled with passion and promise. It was as if the universe had paused just for them, the cacophony of the city fading into a gentle symphony of their hearts beating in sync. Jeremy felt a jolt of electricity run through him as he deepened the kiss, his hands finding their way to the small of her back, pulling her closer until there was nothing but the warmth of her body pressed against his. Emily's hands roamed up his chest, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his jersey, as if she could feel the power of his love for the game, and for her, through the very threads that made him a Boston Bruin. The kiss grew hungry, desperate, and it was all Jeremy could do to keep from sweeping her off her feet and into the nearest alleyway. But he didn't want to scare her off. He wanted to savor this moment, to etch it into his memory forever, to let her know that she was the one who had stolen his heart, and he had no intention of ever getting it back.

Their relationship grew with the speed of a breakaway on fresh ice, each moment more exhilarating than the last. Jeremy found himself thinking of Emily during games, her name a silent chant that fueled his every move. Off the rink, their dates were a delightful blend of shared laughter and tender touches that grew more intimate with each passing day. They explored the hidden gems of Boston together, from the quiet bookstores she adored to the secret spots where they could watch the sunset without the intrusion of flashing cameras. As their bond deepened, so did their desire for one another, the simmering tension between them threatening to boil over. It was inevitable that one evening, as they stumbled into his apartment after a particularly exhilarating victory, the barrier between them would shatter. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, and Jeremy couldn't resist the urge to claim her lips once more, this time with a fervor that spoke of all the nights he'd dreamed of having her in his arms. Her body molded to his, and he knew that this was no longer a simple infatuation—it was love, raw and all-consuming, and it was about to set their worlds ablaze.

Jeremy's need for her grew more intense with every second, and he couldn't wait any longer to feel her completely bare against his skin. With a gentle yet firm tug, he removed her sweater and bra, exposing her breasts to the cool air. Her nipples pebbled under his gaze, and he couldn't resist the urge to lean in and take one into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak while his thumb and forefinger pinched and rolled the other. Emily moaned, arching her back to offer herself up to him, her hands clutching at his shoulders. His tongue traced circles around her areola, teasing and taunting before he took her nipple between his teeth and bit down gently. She gasped, and he could feel her pussy quiver against his leg. He knew she was desperate for more, but he wanted to savor every moment, to make sure she felt the same all-consuming desire that was burning through him. With a smirk, he slid his hand down her torso, his fingers finding the waistband of her jeans. He undid the button and zipper with ease, his eyes never leaving hers, and slid his hand inside, feeling the heat of her pussy through the fabric. Emily's breath caught as he began to rub her clit, his touch feather-light and maddening. She squirmed beneath him, her hands reaching up to tug at his hair, urging him to give her more. But Jeremy was a master of patience, and he took his time, watching the pleasure build in her eyes until she was panting and begging for release. Only then did he push her jeans down her legs, revealing her to him in all her beauty. He kissed his way down her body, his mouth worshiping every inch of her soft skin until he reached her pussy, already glistening with arousal. His tongue darted out, flicking against her clit as his fingers delved into her folds, seeking the spot that would make her come apart. Emily's hips bucked up to meet his mouth, and she moaned his name, her voice a sweet symphony of need. He licked and sucked, his tongue swirling around her clit, feeling her body tense with each pass. When she was on the brink, he slowed down, drawing out the exquisite agony, making her beg for release. But he was relentless, eager to hear the sweet sound of her pleasure when she finally shattered for him. And when she did, it was like nothing he had ever experienced, her pussy clenching around his fingers, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. He lapped up every drop of her, savoring her taste, before standing to remove his own clothes. His dick was hard and heavy, the veins standing out in stark relief, and he couldn't wait to bury himself inside her. With a swift motion, he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his dick nudging at her entrance. He pushed in slowly, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling her pussy clench around him as he filled her completely. She was so tight, so wet, and he groaned with the effort it took to keep from pounding into her. Instead, he took his time, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had her moaning and writhing beneath him. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he felt her climb closer and closer to the edge again. His hand found her clit, and he began to rub it in time with his thrusts, watching her eyes glaze over with passion. Emily's nails dug into his back, her legs wrapping around his waist, urging him deeper, faster. And when she came, it was with a scream that echoed through the apartment, her pussy milking his cock as he followed her over the edge, filling her with his cum. They lay there, panting and trembling, their bodies slick with sweat, and Jeremy knew that this was just the beginning of a love affair that would burn hotter than any game he had ever played.

[lacefedora]

Sleep: Devil's Minion/ Armandaniel

@its-a-moral-gay-area

Armand has a nightmare about marius, daniel comforts him

<got a little stuck on this one a few days but I like the result. Contains references to marius and all the baggage that comes with that>

-

Armand rarely slept. He didn't need much sleep and to Daniel it seemed like Armand felt he was wasting his time if he slept away the hours instead of using them to do something. Read or buy art or whatever the fuck he kept doing that utterly destroyed Daniel's blender and garbage disposal. The man kept busy.

So it was an odd thing, to find Armand asleep. Even odder to find Armand in Daniel's bed doing it. Daniel was pretty sure they'd had sex in the past, some moments Armand has erased from Daniel's mind. He had caught glimpses of it when he had tasted Armand's blood. Glimpses of a life that Daniel had no memory of. He planned to go digging on that. But they hadn't shared a bed since his return.

He takes a moment to just watch him. Armand looked younger in sleep somehow. Too young. Daniel reaches out, about to brush some dark curls from his face. But then he sees Armand's brow furrow. His face twists like he's in pain. He starts to speak. Daniel can't understand the words… he knows enough French to get by but this isn't french… but not quite Italian either. He seems to be… pleading though. Trapped in a nightmare.

Perhaps this was the real reason Armand avoided sleep.

"Armand." He calls to him when he starts moving and twitching. Finally he reaches out, brushing his hair back and trying to wake him gently.

The response is immediate. Armand shoots straight up, cringing away from Daniel's hand. Daniel draws back his hands, holding them up. Armand's eyes are wild as he looks around the room, more panicked than Daniel had ever seen him.

"It's me Armand… just me." Armand's eyes come to rest on him.

"Daniel…" He says, like he's coming back from far away. Daniel sees Armand start to reach for him, then he stops, hands falling back to the bed. "Forgive me. I was dreaming." He says slowly.

Daniel has never been particularly hesitant. He moves across the bed and grabs Armand, pulling him against him. It's… bizarre how Armand fits against him immediately. He buries his face against Daniel's shoulder and he feels a shuttering breath against it.

"I'd say you had a nightmare, boss. It's okay." Daniel says and he puts his hand on Armand's hair, petting his curls. "You want to talk about it?" He asks. He doubted he would. Armand simply… didn't talk about things if he could help it. He was a volatile ball of constant repression. Right up until he exploded.

Armand seems to somehow burrow deeper into his embrace, clinging onto him.

"It was about Marius. Just… an old punishment." Armand tells him in a halting voice. Daniel's honestly a little touched he even got that much out of him.

"Marius… your creep Maker that used to pimp you out to his other artist friends?" Daniel asks and he keeps petting Armand's hair, feeling him start to unwind and relax under the touch. "Can't say I'm surprised he did shit to give you nightmares. Guy seems like a real peach." Daniel says flatly.

"He was not always… I was a wild thing then." Armand says, almost in defense.

"I don't know how to break this to you, but you're a wild thing now." Daniel tells him. He liked it about him actually. Which probably made him completely fucking insane, but here they were. "Don't really care how wild you were. Didn't deserve that shit, And you didn't deserve whatever it is that gave you nightmares 500 years after the fact, okay?"

Armand is silent for a long time after that. Daniel starts to think he's fallen back asleep. Instead after an age of silence Armand turns his head and presses a kiss to Daniel's shoulder and then tightens his arms around him.

"Thank you…" Armand says quietly. Daniel just smiles and pulls him to lay down together on the bed.

[bidisaster-peanut-romano]

considering the state of bullworth (the city), what do you think the state of the country or world is like? do you think bullworth has a unique culture, or is it almost representative of the society outside its perimeters?

i think about what hal esposito said a lot when he and lucky were finding things to watch on the tv. "what? war footage and natural disasters doesn't do it for you?"

considering it is highly likely that the world's condition is very chaotic, how might this affect bullworth and its residents?

hello there!!! ah yes, geography. my beloathed

that's an interesting question of course, yes!! my instinctive thought when first reading this ask was what i always asumed, ie: the news hal and lucky were referring about weren't local but, yknow, american general news. also bc paris from the carnival says something very similar in front of her tv, and we know that the carnival travels, so i wouldn't think of something too different.

however!! let's go by steps there, because thinking about it that's something i never properly expanded upon.

so, first of all: canonically speaking, bullworth is in new england. now, as a non-usamerican, i have very little knowledge of anything about hyperspecific cultures in america, maybe just some west coast zones or south and some midwest.

however!! the fact that there are so many kids of italian certain descent and some other kids with non anglophone last names (kowalski, brakus, luna, karamazov, etc) implies that it is an important destination for migrations. this makes me think of earlly 1900s new york, which would certainly be coherent.

now, a long time ago i found the certain information that bullowrth was supposed to be in new hampshire. however, since i have learned that "trust me bro" is never a good source, i went back to dig some deeper into the whole thing: it still seems to be more or less agreed upon that the state is new hampshire, also because someone noted a striking resemblance of bullworth with the phillips exeter academy. of course maybe it wasn't as explicit and direct as this user puts it, but it is suggestive enough that it would be nice to go with it.

now, first about the culture: we mentioned bullworth being basically a melting pot. this means that it is not only unique, but in fact very diverse, also depending on the zone. for example, i think in new coventry you'll find an especially colorful culture, with people coming from different places and different cultures, everyone holding onto their own but also interacting with their neighbor. you'll find people giving each other giving their best wishes to their neighbor for a festivity they don't even celebrate but know the other does. i mean, maybe you'll have some catholic complaining about the shop being closed just that day, but cue to the stereotypical southern italian wife smacking him behind his head and telling her good friend is home with their family and he mustn't be an annoying jerk (not in so many words, of course).

it is probably quieter the more you get closer to the vale. maybe in town there will be the occasional decoration outside of the house or in a shop, but overall… i'd say that the fundamental sentiment in bullworth is, exactly as the school crest says, canis canem edit. mind your own business and you'll live a hundred years, like an old saying goes. keep a good distance, so they don't hurt you and you don't hurt them.

and in fact, the vale is where this hyperindividualism gets ornated with the hypocrisy of the Good People, some facade to keep so that not only no conflict is created, but any chance and risk of it is perfectly concealed. you have the middle class-bourgeois, christian family who greet their neighbors with a smile and then speculate on all their disgraces as soon as the front door closes. and everything that happens in the family stays in the family, dirty laundry is washed at home.

yeah, overall i'd say. the whole point of bullworth culture is self-sufficiency, it's doing the best of what you have and care thoroughly and not let anyone else touch what's yours.

now, the natural condition of the territory: established that we are on the new hampshire coast, i have tried to dig a bit. i will bring up again something i mentioned earlier: i immediately assumed it was us or global news, but, while it is unfortunately enough to desensitize the general public to military violence, natural forces can be… a bit different.

i will tell a small anecdote about me. i grew up in an extremely seismic area, and by that i mean that we would experience at least a couple waves every some weeks, not strong enough to cause damage but enough to be perceived and do small stuff like making small objects fall off or ceiling lamps shake. and, y'know, it has always been perfectly normal for me, it has happened while i was in class and the worst thing was that i smudged a line on the essay i was writing. but then i moved away for college, and, when in geography we started talking about earthquakes, my professor admitted being scared shitless of seismic waves. my friends got the news of some waves in my native area and asked me how my family was; my mom was like “what do you mean four? i only felt three”

what was that to say? well. in my experience, the general masses are much more moved by natural disasters than by wars. so, in some way, the idea that hal and lucky were at most annoyed by the repetitiveness of the news makes me think that they have some experience with it. earthquakes probably aren't the ones, since, well. plate tectonics. which i will not explain here mostly because i have already passed that exam and i want nothing to do with it ever again LMAO. but anyway the east coast is a very stable area of the earth, so no earthquakes nor volcanoes. and, since it is located tightly in a small gulf, i think sea storms and tidal waves are out of the question too.

however! apparently, tornadoes are not too infrequent in the area, nor, i guess, storms and other similar climate events. as i mentioned before: what happens there is that you get kind of desensitized there; the thought of anything horrible happening isn't there, or, if it is, it barely hits with its full force. “but what if it is stronger next time?” we'll all just die, at least i won't have to worry about rent anymore, maybe my boss will finally kick the bucket too, ha-ha. what do you mean someone died in the next city? well, you know, it can happen.

so yeah, when you ask how it affects the people of bullworth- it probably just amplifies whatever nihilism is already there, y'know. see constantinos, who's most probably clinically depressed, or lefty's “life sucks and then you die”, which is disturbing, especially coming from a kid his age.

i guess it's not the only factor, but it does contribute to this feeling of bullworth just being some lost land, forsaken by god himself left to its own devices. it's like the entirety of the population is... in survival mode, as i tend to say; you just pull through, which should be the bare minimum, but there we are. think of yourself first, then your neighbor, but actually fuck your country, since it has never done a thing for me.

[hoziersmicrophone]

coffee | ross macdonald

A/N: this is my first fic!! & it was inspired by the song “coffee” by Chappell roan, I highly recommend listening to it:)

WARNINGS: angst, suggestions of smut, not a happy ending‼️

pls enjoy <3

Can't meet you for dinner at the Italian place

It's where I met your family, some words were exchanged

I'd suggest the jazz bar on MaryAnn Street but

You'd buy me a drink and we know where that leads, so

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make dinner tonight, something’s come up. I’m really sorry. Do you want to do something maybe during the day tomorrow before you leave for Toronto?”

As soon as she sent the text message, she began to get anxious and rubbed her fingers against each other. She was aware that Ross would be fine with switching things up, as he usually is, but she regrets calling off their long-planned dinner. In less than 48 hours, he was heading out for the Canadian portion of the tour.

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and saw that he was calling. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, before swiping to answer the call and bringing the phone to her ear.

“Ross, hi,”

“Is everything okay, love? What’s come up? Is something wrong?” his concerned voice echoed on the other end of the line, she knew he was alone in his hotel room.

She smiled softly at his sincerity, “Nothing’s wrong, and I’m okay, I promise. It’s just been a long day and I don’t really feel up for dinner. I’m tired,”

“Ah,” he sighed, “Okay, well, if you want, I can come over to your place for a bit? We can just relax, maybe watch a movie? I know you’ve been wanting to watch Challengers for a while- we could rent it yeah?”

He sounded calm and collected, but on the other end of the phone call, Ross had begun to wonder if she didn’t want to see him at all, and that this was just her way of attempting to let him down easy.

“That sounds great, actually. I’ll see you in an hour or so?”

He repressed a sigh of relief and smiled, “Sounds good, I’ll see you then.”

With a sigh, she ended the call and collapsed onto her couch. He was heading out with the guys shortly; they would be gone for six months, only doing two shows in Scotland during that time. She didn't want to upset him, but she also didn't want to drop everything she was doing to go on tour with her boyfriend.

They hadn't discussed the tour much, and she didn't want to be the first to bring it up. In fact, Ross hadn't even asked her if she wanted to go. She loved him, and even though she didn't want to end things, she wasn't able to see their future together as clearly as she once could.

I'll meet you for coffee 'cause if we have wine

You'll say that you want me, I know that's a lie

If I didn't love you, it would be fine

I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

An hour later Ross was at her apartment. He knocked twice on the door, and she opened it, wearing sweatpants, smiling at the man in front of her.

He offered a small hug, which she reciprocated as he walked through the door, “I brought wine,” he handed her a bottle of Merlot.

“Oh thank you,” she paused and put the bottle on the counter, “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“Shall I get the glasses?” he asked as he headed towards the kitchen, “I can make some popcorn too,”

“Sure Ross,” she smiled softly, “That would be amazing, thank you,” and she sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, finding the movie.

A few minutes later, Ross came back and set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table while offering her a glass. She gave him a thank-you smile, and as the movie began, he put an arm around her and pulled her in close.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he whispered into the top of her head, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She nodded, blinking away the stray tears that had formed in her eyes at his words. He evidently had no plans of asking her to join him on tour, he just expected her to sit around and wait for his return.

She exhaled shakily and took a sip of her wine, “Me too,”

They sat in silence and comfort as they watched the film, with a few quips being made at the sex scenes and the intensity of them. The movie ended and Ross stood up, “Do you want another glass to finish off the bottle?”

With a nod, she got to her feet and asked, "Why don't I get them this time?" and she proceeded to the kitchen with their glasses. As she reached for the bottle, removed the cork, and started to pour, she heard his footsteps behind her but chose not to acknowledge him.

Ross’s arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close, hugging her from behind.

“Ross,” she exhaled as she took a sip of her wine.

“Hm?” he murmured as he kissed the part of her shoulder that was exposed from her sweater.

“We need to talk about something,” she pulled out of his arms and turned around to face him, worry evidently etched on her features.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re going away for six months,” she sighed, “And you- you didn’t even ask me how I felt about it or if I wanted to come with you.”

“Love,” he frowned, “I know how you feel about it, but it's my job! Besides, I didn’t think you’d want to come with us, I know you have a life here and-”

“I still would have liked to have been asked,” she said, her voice almost a whisper as she avoided his gaze.

“Well, do you want to come on tour with me?”

“Now you’re just asking out of pity, Ross.”

“What else do you want from me?!” he exhaled sharply. The wine on his breath was potent.

She met his gaze, “Don’t snap at me like that. I was just voicing how I was feeling, there is no reason for you to be defensive.”

His jaw locked and he repressed the urge to roll his eyes, “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what else to say here,”

“You don’t have to say or ask me anything, I just wanted to feel heard.”

“Well, do you?”

“I don’t know. It feels a bit like you’re having this conversation out of obligation.” she looked away again as her eyes welled up with tears once more, “I’m not going to sit around and wait for you like some kind of dog, Ross. Not for half a year.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t feel wanted in this relationship anymore, and don’t really know if I want it for myself,”

“Well I want you!” Ross exclaimed. He ran his hand through his hair and grabbed her hand, “I love you.”

“I love you too, but-” she was cut off by his lips on hers.

“Let’s not talk anymore,” he whispered against her lips, taking her wine glass out of her hand and placing it on the counter, “At least not right now.”

Her eyes began to well up with tears once more, but she forced a smile on her face and gave him another, stronger kiss. She was determined to make the most out of their final night together if it was to be their last. With a drunken gait, they staggered through the house until they arrived at her bedroom. With their lips still attached, the door closed behind them.

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your place

You said let's do the park 'cause I love the park

That may be true but god forbid it gets dark

Here come the excuses that fuel the illusions

But I'd rather feel something than nothing at all, so

Ross and the rest of The 1975 crew were in town for their shows in Scotland, and it had been three months since she'd seen or really spoken to him. Even though she hadn't heard from any of them all day and wasn't really expecting it, the fact that their show was in two hours and she hadn't heard anything still stung.

Just as the thought of not hearing anything entered her mind once more, her phone began to vibrate on the table in front of her. She saw that it was George calling, and answered.

“George?”

“Hey doll, how’s it going?”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, “I’ve been better…how’s tour going? You guys are in town tonight, right? Glasgow?”

“Been keeping tabs on us?”

“Oh shut up, Daniel,”

He laughed, “Are you coming out tonight?”

“Couldn’t snag tickets.” That was only partially the truth. She did want to go, but didn’t want to see Ross. That, and the fight for tickets was a fucking bloodbath.

“If you come to the backdoors one of us will let you in sweetheart,”

“Really desperate to get me there tonight aren’t you George?”

“Would it be wrong of me to say that we miss you?”

“We?” She asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

“Yeah! Me, Matty, Hahn, Charli, Polly, hell even Jamie misses you!”

Her heart felt heavy at the lack of Ross’s name coming out of George’s mouth, but she brushed it off with a light laugh, “I’ll see you in a bit, but I want a backstage pass.”

“Sure thing doll,” and he hung up the phone.

An hour later, she found herself at the backdoors of the venue the boys were performing at. She had just texted George that she was here and had put her phone in her pocket when the doors swung open and she was pulled into and off the ground by the blonde balding man himself in a bone crushing hug.

“Jesus Christ, Daniel!” she exclaimed as she laughed, being put back down on the ground.

“I told you I missed you, sweetheart,”

“If you don’t lose that nickname soon, the next thing you lose will be your dick,” she warned but grinned, “I missed you too.”

“Let’s go say hi to everyone,” George grabbed her hand and dragged her into the dimly lit backstage, letting the doors slam shut behind them.

She had a blast reuniniting with almost the entire band, and was almost brought to the ground by Matty who would not release her from his hug.

“Shit, are you okay Healy?” She asked between laughing fits.

“He misses you and feels like shit,” Matty spoke in a hushed tone in her ear.

“I’m sure he does, and to be fair, he should feel shitty,” she responded, “I’m not here for him,” she spoke a bit louder as she pulled away from Matty’s hug.

“Who’s not here for who?” asked a voice, cutting around George and stepping into the light where she could see him and he could see her.

She straightened her back and turned around, “Hi,” she said, smiling at the tall man who looked shocked to see her.

“You aren’t here for me?” Ross’s eyes softened as he took in her features.

“Jesus, Ross. Whether or not you choose to believe it, my life does not revolve around you,” she brushed the hostile comment off with a small laugh and turned back to Matty, “You guys go on soon, can I just watch from the wings?”

“Yeah, of course,” he responded with a small glance at Ross, who’s expression remained indifferent.

“Alright lads, let’s get a move on with this show then,” George said, clapping Ross on the back, bringing him back to reality, “And let’s get our dear guest a bottle of wine to drink while she enjoys our performance,” he said to a stagehand, shooting her a wink.

She stood on stage left, which was the audiences’ stage right and watched the show from the wings. It also happened to be the side of the stage Ross played on for the majority of the show. The two kept making eye contact throughout the numbers, but he kept looking away the second her eyes met his. She had consumed over half of the bottle of wine, and was enjoying the buzz as her ears burned with the songs they were performing.

It wasn’t until the second verse of ‘Sex’ when she got distracted watching him play. The way his hair framed his face and he focused so intently on the bass line of the song. The way he almost vibrated with the way the stage shook and how he ignored the screams of the crowd, evidently in love with him. The way his fingers moved; god, she loved his fingers. She was slightly drunk at this moment, but didn’t care. She was happy for the first time in months and never wanted the feeling to go away.

As she was evidently distracted by his performance, she didn’t notice him catching her staring and the slight smirk that creeped its way onto his face.

The song came to an end and he placed his bass on the stand as the rest of the band exited the stage, leaving Polly alone to sing ‘Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America.’

Ross walked directly towards her and watched as her mouth formed a soft smile with a hint of a twinkle in her eye. “What?” he asked, a puzzled but playful expression on his face.

She grabbed him by the front of the red crewneck he was wearing and pulled him down to face her, and kissed him with just as much intensity as she had done the last time they had seen each other, three months ago. He responded into the kiss for a few seconds then pulled back, grabbing her hand,

“Where is this coming from?”

“Just shut up and kiss me, MacDonald”

He looked like he wanted to ask another question, but decided to ask it later as he kissed her again, pulling her backwards into the dark of the poorly lit backstage. She laughed against his lips as he walked into a mic stand, covering her mouth with her hand to hide a grin.

“Are you okay?” she asked, trying to stifle another laugh.

“Now who needs to shut up?” He retorted before kissing her again.

I'll meet you for coffee 'cause if we have wine

You'll say that you're sorry, I know that's a lie

If I didn't trust you, it would be fine

I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

Another three months had passed since the band’s Glasgow shows, and it had been another three months since she had seen Ross. Yes, they saw each other at the show and for the 48 hours the band was in Glasgow, but after that, they took off again, and she was left to her studio apartment and her thoughts.

She was sitting in her pajamas on her couch and was watching a live stream of the band’s last show. They all had high spirits, but she could tell that they were all a little defeated about it being the last one; both fatigue and sadness.

Her iPad screen went black as the stream ended and her heart swelled with pride for the band. They had all worked so hard the past six months and it most definitely paid off. A break was well deserved.

She was woken up by her phone vibrating beside her. According to her clock it was 3AM. Grabbing it, she rubbed her eyes as the screen illuminated the room.

RM: Hey, I get back to Glasgow tomorrow around 1. Do you wanna grab a coffee and chat?

She stared at the text as another came through.

RM: FUCK. I forgot about the time difference. I’m so sorry. Get back to me when you wake up x.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m awake. And I can do coffee, same spot as always?”

RM: Did I wake you?????

“No, you didn’t lol”

RM: Don’t lie to me, it’s 3AM. You’re never up that late.”

“Fine, you did wake me up, but again, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow ”

RM: See you then x

She smiled and put her phone back down, before rolling back over and falling asleep, only waking up when her 11AM weekend alarm went off.

If I didn't trust you, it would be fine

I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

She walked into the coffee shop, the one they always used to go to, and saw that he was already sitting at a table with two cups in front of him.

Ross stood up when he saw her, and gave her a small hug before she sat down adjacent to him, “I got you a mocha,”

“You remember my order?”

“Of course I do, it’s disgustingly sweet,”

“I’m going to ignore that. How was the rest of the tour?”

They talked about the band, the shows that were better than others, and what they all got up to for the months on the road. Ross mentioned that Polly had started talking to one of the security guards at their show in Toronto and that the two now text almost everyday, and that Polly was planning to spend part of their hiatus in Canada.

“And how were your adventures on the road? Did you get up to anything interesting?” She teased, with a mild smile on her face.

“Not much, really,” he responded.

“Come on MacDonald, you have to give me more than that.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “I was pretty lonely if I’m being honest.”

She inhaled sharply, preparing for the conversation that was about to occur, “It was you who chose to be lonely, you did that to yourself, Ross,”

“I suppose I did,” he responded, absent-mindedly picking at his fingers, “I did miss you, you know,”

“Is that why I didn’t hear from you at all for the first three months and then hardly after the two days you were in town?” Her eyes reflected the sadness that was mirrored in his.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to reach out,”

“But I tried reaching out to you, and was met with radio silence! You can say you missed me all you want, Ross, but those are those words. You did not put in the effort to keep in touch with me and just that alone shows me more than you will ever be able to say,”

She stared at him with a fixed gaze. He stared back, each word she said had felt like a stab in his chest. He knew she was right, in a sense, but could not find the words to fix the animosity that had fallen in between them.

Their coffees had begun to get cold, and she was the first to avert her gaze from his as her phone vibrated on the table. Turning it over so the screen didn’t light up, she looked back up at him. Her eyes slightly softened,

Nowhere else is safe, every place leads back to your-

“Did you expect me to just be okay with you coming back into my life?”

“No, I-” he started,

“That I would just put my life on pause for you at any given moment? What happened three months ago in Glasgow was a lapse in judgement on my part, and yes, it was fun, but it was not what I had intended when George invited me to the show.”

“It’s not what I intended either, I don’t know what-”

She cut him off again, “Oh fuck off with that bullshit. You’re telling me you didn’t intend for my legs to open for you when you showed up at my door with two bottles of wine and flowers?” Her voice had lowered to a whisper, not wanting to alert any of the other customers to their conversation.

She paused, her eyes glistening with tears, “You are the only person who knows me inside and out, Ross, and I know you too. So you cannot tell me you showed up that night after the second show with my favourite wine to only watch whatever program was on that night. I’m not that stupid.”

“I have never ever thought that you were stupid” Ross’s eyes stared into hers, and he clenched his fists together, “And it pains me that you would think that I only see you as a way to get a quick fuck and then leave.”

“How else am I supposed to see myself in your eyes when you only reach out to me when it is convenient for you. I am not at your beck and call Ross, and I am certainly not something you can dispose of once you’ve used,”

“I need you to stop talking so negatively about yourself, please. You have to believe me when I say that none of this was ever my intention, and I never want to hurt you. I love you.” Ross’s eyes were now starting to well up with tears, but he blinked them away when he saw that hers were beginning to stain her cheeks.

“I love you too, Ross. But I think that’s why it's so hard for me. You are all consuming, and it’s ruining my life,” she grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently, “I think I need to let you go,”

“What do you mean? I’m back home for at least a few months now, we can make this work!” He was pleading, and his eyes showed nothing but desperation.

“I don’t know if I want to make it work, I don’t know if my heart can take it.”

“So what? We’re just going to go our separate ways now? Forever?” Ross felt his voice crack at the word as his eyes welled up once more.

“For now, yeah. I think we both just need a lot of space to think about this Ross, think about what we really want.”

She wiped away the tears that had fallen and took her hand out of his, standing up and grabbing her coat off the back of the chair. He followed suit, and the two walked out of the coffee shop so they were standing beside her car. She opened her mouth to say something else when she felt him wrap his arms around her, enveloping her in the tightest hug she had ever received.

She buried her head into his chest as the tears fell down her face once more, and felt him kiss the top of her head. The two embraced for what felt like eternity, when it was only a matter of minutes before he pulled away.

“I do love you, you know,” he said with a sad smile, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, it’s the lifestyle you signed up for, it’s just not what I can cope with anymore. You really are one of the best men I have ever met,” she responded, “And I love you too, Ross.”

She turned away from him as more tears started to fall, and she got into her car. The engine turned on and she drove out of the parking lot without giving him a last glance. This would always be a losing battle they would face, so they both needed to be strong and let the other go, because in doing so, they could find themselves.

The carousel never stops turning, so sometimes one of the best things you can do is get off.

We've done this before

And I don't need it anymore

So let's not do coffee, let's not even try

It's better we leave it and give it some time

If I didn't love you, it would be fine

'Cause If we do coffee, it's never just coffee

It's never just coffee

A/N: that marks the end of my first fanfic!! please reblog and let me know what you think! <3<3 also shoutout to @mads198-9 for being my beta reader, ily loser💕💕💕💕