#Free George Magazine

[thisisaheist]

- Nicola Walker, interviewed in Waitrose & Partners Weekend

[petermorwood]

A day or so ago, @dduane reblogged a long post - a Canadian magazine article from 1966 - about the Americanisation of Winnie the Pooh.

It's an Impressive Tirade in which the writer (Sheila H. Kieran) says what she thinks about letting Walt Disney have a free hand with a foreign Children's Classic.

There's mention of the previous Adaptation Endeavour, "Mary Poppins" (1964) but it's very brief, perhaps with an eye to limited column space - or maybe because All Was Said Already in a previous review.

There is, however, rather a lot about the English characters being given American accents, and about the inclusion of a new character, an American gopher (which, the article suggests, looked vague enough to the Kieran children - its target audience - that it might as well have been a mole or a beaver).

*****

And that reminded me of another bit of American Animalisation done by Disney, in the 1949 short "The Wind and the Willows" - though in this instance it's visual since the voices are, for the most part, suitably British.

They include Basil Rathbone as narrator, and a horse who sounds like George Formby. In some scenes the horse actually looks like Formby, so this voice may not be entirely accidental.

Badger, however, sounds like a Scotsman - the worst kind of stage Scotsman at that - rather than how I used to "hear" him as a C. Aubrey Smith-voiced crusty retired colonel.

That, however, is just personal preference.

However, Disney's Badger is not a proper British (more correctly, European) badger, Meles meles. Here's one, which though not the most amiable of beasts in reality, still manages to look fairly affable ("I say, old chap, whatever are you looking at?")

Instead he's a North American badger, Taxidea taxus, which not only has a less affable expression ("Hey, bud, you. Yeah, you. You lookin' at me? You lookin' at ME?") but, more important, different stripes.

Here's Disney's version alongside mine. The correction took about five minutes of pixel-tweaking.

Disney's animators could have got it right from the outset just as easily, because I'm pretty sure the reference library which provided costume info for Rat's tweed Norfolk jacket and britches included picture-books of natural history.

Come to that, any "The Wind in the Willows" after the unillustrated first edition would have been enough, and there must have been at least one copy lying around for story adaptation and scene-description purposes.

The first illustrated edition came out in the UK in 1931, and its artist was, at author Kenneth Graham's request, the very same E.H. Shepard who had illustrated the Pooh books just a few years previously...

...while this Arthur Rackham colour plate is from an edition published in 1940 in New York.

So those books wouldn't have been impossible for Disney to get.

The problem, however, is that if a word ("badger", for instance) is well known to mean one thing here, it may be Too Much Trouble to find out if the same word means something else there, with the result that finding out can sometimes come as rather a surprise.

Check the UK / US meaning of "suspenders" to see what I mean... ;->

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it. 

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience. 

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki. 

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough. 

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing. 

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world. 

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention. 

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?” 

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.” 

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.” 

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists. 

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight. 

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s  looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume. 

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns. 

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,” 

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body  out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.  

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.” 

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his. 

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.” 

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake. 

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.” 

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream. 

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery. 

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%.  but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t—“ 

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side. 

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely. 

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his  perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.” 

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you. 

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast. 

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good. 

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him. 

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.” 

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance. 

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing. 

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself. 

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?” 

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner. 

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars. 

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open. 

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.  

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.” 

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls  his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.” 

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief. 

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit. 

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears. 

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?” 

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.” 

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used. 

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by. 

including none other than shouto todoroki. 

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole. 

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there. 

“bakugou what are you—?” 

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?” 

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust.  “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.” 

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you. 

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too. 

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.” 

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated  kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever. 

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you. 

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks. 

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre. 

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly. 

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body. 

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high. 

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.  

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back. 

he collapses next to shouto after that. 

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.” 

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?” 

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately. 

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath. 

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight. 

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this. 

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.” 

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl. 

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[op-81-lvr]

F1 X Reader; Role Reversal series Masterlist

~

I keep seeing these and I am such a whore for them so I though I might give writing one a go! If anyone has any ideas I could add feel free to drop them in my inbox is open

Reader is a driver in all fics, they pretty much just steal their partners career because it’s just easier to make things flow instead of rejigging the grid completely.

I have a million other works I could be posting right now but this idea has been plaguing my thoughts

🌟 = Currently being written

~

Headcannons

~

🌟 ~ 💶 A little less conversation

Team princible!Max Verstappen x Fem!reader

Formula 2 retiree Max Verstappen becomes the new team principal for Red Bull, making him the youngest principal on the grid. He comes with the goal of getting you your first championship.

~ 💪🏻 Death on Two Legs

PhysicalTherapist!Oscar Piastri x Male!reader

When you get into a pretty horrific crash that costs you the rest of the season Oscar is there to pick up the pieces and help nurse your leg back to health.

~ 📸 Larger Than Life

Photographer!Lando Norris x Fem!reader

Lando Norris is a famous photographer for TIME magazine. It just so happens that his girlfriend wins woman of the year the year he is set to take the photo shoot.

~ 💍 Trouble

TrophyHusband!Charles Leclerc x Male!reader

Charles Leclerc-(L/N) lives a lavish life, he has his dog and his rich husband whos job allows him to travel around the world. He gets on with the other WAGs and becomes something of an icon.

~ 🧁 The Sweet Escape

Baker!Carlos Sainz x Fem!reader

Carlos Sainz owns a sweet little bakery in a small little town in Spain, you being in Spain for the Barcelona GP decided to go exploring and stumble across this quaint little bakery (Much to your nutritionalists distress) .

~ ✂️ Fashion

Stylist!Lewis Hamilton x Male!reader

Your PR team is fed up of their 7 time world champion showing up to the paddock dressed in nothing but team kit so they hire a stylist for you.

🌟 ~ 📖 Can’t speak French

Translator!George Russell x Fem!reader

(I keep changing this lol (Sorry (I’m not, this is my blog)))

You came to F1 barely being able to speak english, it wasn’t something you or your parents prioritised learning over karting and so Williams provides you George, a multi-lingual language scholar, your relationship becomes something a little unprofessional.

~ 🍜 Honey, Honey

Food blogger!Yuki Tsunoda x Masc!Reader

While traveling around the world with you for Grand Prix Yuki takes advantage of the different cultures and cuisines to add to his food blog that he runs.

~ 🐾 You’re My Best Friend

Veterinarian!Alex Albon x Fem!Reader

Alex Albon is the best boyfriend anyone could possibly ask for. He is such a softie especially around your two cats and especially when he’s taking care of them while you’re travelling for work.

🌟 ~ 🎞️ Look at Me

Actor!Daniel Riccardo x Male!Reader

(Request!) Daniel Riccardo meets you at an event and instantly just assumes you are another product of nepotism (which may not be totally incorrect). However as the night goes on and you become closer (and drunker) Daniel is absolutely smitten with the F1 driver before him

[aibidil]

I've decided I want to restructure my life to be as year 2000 as possible. Not fashion; everything else. So far I have the following, please reblog and add more ideas.

Buy CDs and DVDs (preferably from the grottiest little local shop you can find, run by a 60yo man who chain smokes and has an encyclopedic knowledge of all music/film), go to Blockbuster with friends on Friday night, for the rest, Napster illegally download

Start carrying the good camera again, not relying on the phone for photos

No subscriptions for delivery of basic items (Deodorant? Toilet paper? Electrolytes?). No, you cannot have a recurring transaction on my credit card, fuck off

Don't use AIM social media when out of the house (texting is ok, reading is ok)

Doctoring photos is ok but only if you use your illegally downloaded copy of Photoshop (and your self taught Photoshop skills) to do it

Web 1.0 supremacy; fuck apps. Bring back kitschy animated word art on websites

Insist that politicians like George W. Bush are the worst and do not allow relativism to make you forget or temper that basic truth

Amazon.com is a pretty cool website you might've heard of? For finding books you can't get locally, like books by indie authors who only publish there. It isn't anything else.

Browsing local bookstores and going to bookstore release parties whenever possible

The average amount spent on cable TV in the US in 2000 is $60/mo, and if you can afford it, that's what's reasonable to spend on cable/streaming, no more (video rental/DVD purchase not included)

Going to the movies (sneak in the snacks to save $)

Desktop setup: the ultimate computer setup involves a huge fucking monitor (ok if it's huge in width now, rather than depth as it was then), a computer that doesn't move around the house with you, a full size clicky keyboard with separate number pad, and components that never need charging. Ideally this is in a shittily renovated basement or even in the middle of the house/kitchen

Magazine subscriptions are sweet. Might I suggest Wired or Teen Vogue?

Queer rights: legal/marriage equality is important, yeah, but more important is challenging heteronormativity. Fuck it all up. Have you read Michael Warner's The Trouble With Normal?

Taxis and public transit and asking friends for a ride to the airport. Fuck the gig economy

Big pants

No ChatGPT. If you need help writing something, ask a friend

Reality TV can be fun, but only if you're watching with a group and being really unhinged about it together

The News is something that happens max twice a day (newspaper in the morning, up to an hour of evening news, preferably PBS NewsHour, which is free on YouTube)

There's no such thing as a weight loss drug

Going to a friend's house to play video games together

Things I'm keeping from 2025:

GPS

Tasty non-dairy options

Medical breakthroughs

Wearing a mask when sick or when illness is prevalent

High-rise trousers

Neurodiversity as a concept, and improvement in our understanding of disability

The limited strides we've made wrt fatphobia, transphobia, ableism, racism, homophobia, etc

Indoor smoking bans

[rwrbmovie]

Taylor and Nick are included in the lineup for the upcoming season of Variety's Actors on Actors.

Leo Woodall ('One Day') & Nicholas Galitzine ('Mary and George')

Joey King ('We Were the Lucky Ones') & Taylor Zakhar Perez ('Red, White & Royal Blue')

(Both episodes will be in week 2)

The biggest awards season franchise is back with the frontrunners of this fall's Emmys.

One conversation a day will air on Variety.com for 12 consecutive days, starting on June 3 through June 14. The “Actors on Actors” magazine issue, photographed by celebrated photographed Mary Ellen Matthews, will hit newsstands on June 5. This year’s season will be presented by Peacock. 

Four broadcast episodes will air on PBS SoCal June 13 from 8 to 10 p.m., followed by encores on public television stations across the country and the WORLD Channel (check local listings). All episodes will stream on pbssocal.org and the free PBS App following their premieres. 

[harrisonarchive]

At the Lafayette Motor Inn in Atlantic City, August 30, 1964. Photos © Mirrorpix.

If you’re familiar with the fan memoir A Date With A Beatle, you’ll recall this place and date… “The police took me downstairs to the lobby and the policeman was just livid. He read me a rash of charges and as I put my soggy wet beehive down in between my soggy wet knees, I heard a ding. I looked up and the elevator door opened and there, not five feet away from me, with me never looking worse in my entire life, was the man of my dreams. […] I thought, ‘My God, this man is so beautiful.’ There was a light shining behind him, and his hair was so shiny. Initially, I was probably making dolphin noises. He wanted to know what was going on, and I think what really sealed it for him to decide to help me was when the police officers said I was in trouble thanks to him and my bad taste in music. He asked me what happened and handed me a handkerchief that had the initials G.H. It was so beautiful and elegant, and I was blotting at my face and when I went to hand it back it was a mass of black Egyptian eyeliner. You can imagine what my face looked like. He said to keep it! […] George actually made the officer run down my list of relatively innocent charges, and then asked me if I was going to get into any more trouble. Of course I said no. My goal was achieved, no matter how it happened. The officer just gave up and allowed me to walk free—fly was more the word for it.” - Judith Kristen, “10 Questions with Judith Kristen,” SJ Magazine Be sure to read Judith’s book for the full story of her Beatlemaniac adventures and the moment she met George.

[atopvisenyashill]

alright here is my rec list for everything george rr martin:

(link will be in reblog). in it you will find:

the list of all the asoiaf books and related supplemental books and graphic novels (just to like, cover all my bases here)

books and authors across all genres that george has name dropped as having an influence on the series, from historical books written in the late 1800s about random scottish castles to the beginnings of the sword-and-sorcery genre written in serials in magazines.

books about the history he's taken inspiration from besides the ones he's name dropped - basically i found non fiction books that seemed well reviewed on an academic level but also sounded like narrative non fiction bc i can’t do anything too dry or technical. however,,,, i included notes in this section on what part of the story is inspired by each book. i kept it to the stuff that he’s name dropped - like dorne being a mash up of wales, moorish spain, and palestine, or hadrian’s wall or the anarchy - so if you think something sounds interesting but the book i picked was ass, basically every subject had a bunch of books on it!

(caveat i mean, i picked stuff that was readily available to me through my library system as someone in the greater chicagoland area lol so ymmv as to whether there's a lot of info available to you. if you want to know about how to use libby, hoopla, or kanopy tho, hit me up!!)

books i think it's very likely he took inspiration - this is the smallest section, i’m not about to project onto this man, its at the very bottom of the sheet & it’s just like, lolita, some fairy tale stuff, and other books george has written, so it’s also about further understanding his ~style~ + i am simply interested in these titles.

if anything is kind of unclear or if you noticed i missed something george has said, feel free to let me know!

[ador3him]

OMGGG, headcanons of the Dream team dating the highest paid super model ?? sfw and nsfw😭.

Also can i be 👻 anon?

pairing: dream team x supermodel!streamer

requested? Yes! By 👻 anon !

authors note: welcome 👻 anon!! I have never written smut before so BARE WITH ME (I cannot write smut omg it's so bad)

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

DREAM

-he would be so supportive, but very secretive of your relationship

-only people in his personal life would know.

-but if someone ever mentioned you in his chat or comments he'd go silent.

-maybe it was a random comment on how you guys would be cute together or maybe it was an accusation because you guys were seen together.

-hed eventually tell his fans but be very strict about everything, telling his fans not to bombard her because your career was very important and he didn't want you getting hate.

-he would also never let you pay for anything, he'd buy dinners, flowers, chocolates, lingerie.

NSFW!!

-as a supermodel you were on the taller side and he was obsessed.

-hed be drooling and hard at the look of you in a dress with your long, smooth legs the centre of attention from your skimpy yet classy outfit.

-hed love to watch your runway shows on tv with one hand around his aching cock and his eyes glued to the screen.

-sometimes he'd fuck you before a shoot, burying his cum in your pussy and make you go to the shoot with his cum dripping from you.

SAPNAP

-to be honest he probably found you on Instagram and he cheesily slid into your DMs.

-he would def flaunt your relationship online with his Instagram and Twitter being a yn fan page.

-hed also promotes your runway shows and any magazines you're in like it's his job

"Chat look at my gorgeous, rich, sexy girlfriend. Stay mad,"

NSFW!!!

-cowgirl is def his fav, seeing you- a strong, feminine lady fall apart around his cock, whining about being tired and being forced to continue.

-because your rich he begged you to have sex in a pile of cash, yes it is kinda dirty but it made him groan at the look of you naked in all your money soaking wet for him.

GEORGE

-he probably ran into you at a store, he needed some food for the house and he wanted to find something healthy after the couple weeks of junk food, you guys reached for the same bag of apples.

-he first noticed your well manicured hands- a light blue.

-hes normally outgoing personality when he looked to you.

"I am so sorry- oh my god, you're yn?"

-he recognised you from a website he was on looking for clothes, he cyberstalked you afterwards.

"wow,"

-suprisingly he's very complimentary, showering you in praise. Peppering you in kisses.

-he sits front row in your runway shows and comes with you to photoshoots..

-at runway shows he has a poster with your face on it and screams out when you come down. (Yes he gets kicked out sometimes).

NSFW

-when he comes with you to photoshoots he likes to fuck you in your dressing room.

-he slids his hand around your throat, choking you to stifle any moans.

-he lifts you of the ground against the dressing room wall, your legs wrapped around his bare waist and heels digging into his back.

-his free hand holds your ass squeezing it when you make a peep.

-he also would love to cum in your panties and make you wear them.

"be a good girl and wear them, wanna see your reaction to my cum dripping down you, sweetheart,"

[thepaleys]

Marianne - The Most Scandalous of the von Pistohlkors Siblings

Marianne von Pistohlkors was born in 1890 and was known by many names throughout her life. Her family called her "Babaka", her friends called her "Malanya".

In 1908, at the age of 17, she married Lt. Col. Peter Petrovich Durnovo, the son of the Minister of Internal Affairs, Pyotr Durnovo, and a classmate of her older brother Alexander. They had one son, Kyrill, born in November 1908. During that time, she was known as Mrs. Durnovo.

There are different versions as to why the couple got divorced just three years after their marriage. Some say Durnovo had a drinking problem and was abusive, others say Marianne was having an affair with none other than Rasputin:

"She was married first to the guards hussar Durnovo. She was acquainted with Rasputin. Once Durnovo, having suddenly appeared at a small gathering of the Elder's admirers, caught the moment when the Elder was embracing his wife. With a strong blow the hussar knocked the Elder down, took his wife away, and Rasputin, lying down, shouted: "I will remember you" - A.I. Spiridonovich

Either way, the couple was divorced in 1911, but it didn't take long for 22-year-old Marianne to find a new husband: a year after her divorce, she married Christopher Ivanovich von Derfelden, another officer and collegue of her brother Alexander. From then on and during most of WWI, she was known as Marianne von Derfelden. And it would be under that name that she would be implicated in one of the most famous murders of history.

Marianne was considered a very attractive woman. She was also witty, inteligent and social, which made her very popular in Saint Petersburg high society in the final years leading up to World War One. One of her most famous stunts was to attend a costume ball given by Kleinmichel dressed as an Egyptian in which she performed a provocative dance with a naval officer (who was not her husband).

Two photographs of the evening were published in a famous social magazine and were a tremendous success.

At the time, Marianne was also an amateur actress and model.

After World War One started, Marianne became a nurse and drove ambulances around the city. On January 5, 1916, she received the St. George Medal for her efforts.

Since her mother and stepfather had returned to Russia in 1914, Marianne had also developed a close friendship (some even refer to it as flirtation) with her step-brother, Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich. They attended the same parties and had the same circle of friends. They also were among the Saint Petersburg aristocratic groups that hated Rasputin and thought he was a bad influence on the Empress.

This was a time when the rumours in Petrograd society were particularly wild and farfetched, so the nature of Dmitri and Marianne's relationship varies between "friendly", "flirtatious" to "they were lovers and took pictures of themselves reenacting Kamasutra positions" and "they participated in orgies thrown by Prince Felix Yussupov in his palace".

Whatever the nature of their relationship, the truth was that Marianne was deeply involved in the conspiracy to murder Rasputin. It had never been fully proved that she was the Yussupov Palace, but she knew about the plans and there were rumours that some of the meetings to organize the murder took place at her apartment.

When it was discovered that Dmitri was one of the co-conspirators and was sent to the Persian front as punishment, Marianne was one of the few people who went to the train station to say goodbye, which ultimatly alerted the authorities to her participation and Empress Alexandra ordered her house arrest. Her telephone was taken and her house was searched [apparently, when the guards asked for a key to open a closed drawer, she told them 'you'll only find love letters'], but nothing was discovered and she was set free on three days later.

A few days after Dmitri's departure, the French Ambassador, Maurice Paléologue, met Marianne at a restaurant and this was what he wrote about the meeting in his memoirs:

Dining at the Restaurant Contant this evening, I saw pretty Madame D----- at the next table with three officers of the Chevaliers-Gardes; she was in mourning. During the night of January 6-7, she was arrested on suspicion of having taken part in the murder of Rasputin, or at any rate known of the preparations. Thanks to the high influences which protect her, she was simply kept under observation in her flat and released three days later. When a police officer asked her for the key of her bureau in order to secure her papers, she replied sweetly and simply: "You'll only find love-letters." The remark is Madame D----- personified. Twenty-six years of age, divorced, remarried at once, then separated from her second husband, she leads a wild life. Every evening, or rather every night, she holds high revel until morning: theatre, ballet, supper, gypsy singers, tango, champagne, etc. And yet it would be a great mistake to judge her solely by this tawdry dissipation; at bottom she is warm-hearted, proud and an enthusiast. Rasputin's murder, of the preparations for which she knew, came as a thunderbolt to her. The Grand Duke Dimitri seemed to her a hero, the saviour of Russia. She went into mourning on learning the news of his arrest. When she heard that he had been sent to the Russian army front in Persia, she swore to continue his patriotic work and avenge him. Since the police evacuated her residence four days ago, she has been concerned in all the ramifications of the plot against the Emperor, carrying letters to some and passwords to others. Yesterday she called on two colonels of the guard to win them over to the good cause. She knows that the agents of the terrible Okhrana are watching her, and is fertile in resources to throw them off the scent. Any night she expects to be incarcerated in the fortress or sent to Siberia; but she has never been so happy before. The heroines of the Fronde, Madame de Longueville, Madame de Montbazon and Madame de Lesdiguières must have known this unreal exaltation, by virtue of which the conscientiousness of a great peril rekindles a great love. When she finished dinner she passed close to my table, followed by her three officers. She came up to me. I rose to shake hands. In rapid tones she said: "I know that our mutual friend came to see you yesterday and told you everything . . . He's extremely anxious about me. It's only natural . . . he loves me so much! Anyhow, he thought you would be ready to help me in case of disaster and was anxious to make certain. But I knew what you'd say. What could you do for me if things went badly? Nothing; that's obvious . . . . But I'm grateful for the nice things you've said about me, and I'm sure that at the bottom of your heart---though not as ambassador---I have your approval . . . We may never meet again. Good-bye!" And with these words she sped away swiftly and silently, escorted by her��chevaliers-gardes.

As mentioned in the quote above, by 1916, Marianne was already separated from her second husband and would soon marry again, this time in October 1917 to Count Nikolai Konstantinovich von Zarnekau, a son of Prince Konstantin of Oldenburg.

Perhaps because of the preassures of the revolution [Marianne later revealed that her life with Nikolai was marked by poverty], this marriage was even shorter than the others and, by 1918, she was already in a relationship with Andrei Nikolaevich Lavrentiev, a Russian actor and theater director.

According to her mother’s recollections, Marianne warned her family several times about the impending arrest, having received information from a commissar who was infatuated with her. “She was quick, … tactfully and easily met Kuzmin. He fell madly in love with her. And he freed us for her sake,” wrote Olga Paley. On August 9, 1918, the Danish envoy H. Scavenius proposed a plan through Marianne to save the Grand Duke: Pavel Alexandrovich, dressed in an Austro-Hungarian uniform, was to hide in the Austro-Hungarian embassy, ​​but the latter refused to change into the uniform of a state hostile to the Russian Empire. Despite all her efforts, she still failed to save her family.

After the death of her son and husband, Olga Valerianovna and her younger daughters illegally emigrated to Finland with the assistance of P. P. Durnovo, Marianna's first husband. Her father and brother Alexander left the country with their families.

Marianne, however, remained in Russia until 1921. She became an actress at the Bolshoi Theater under the stage name Maria Pavlovna in honour of her late stepfather. In 1921, she moved with her lover to Riga, where they remained for several years. In 1936, under the stage name Marianne Fiori, Marianne moved to New York and would remain in the United States until her death. In 1961, she was married for the fourth time to Mikhail Aleksandrovich Paltov, the son of chamberlain Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Paltov , formerly a captain of the Life Guards Horse Grenadier Regiment.

[melancholicstation]

WHEN I WAS A WAITRESS WEARING A WHITE DRESS - jfk jr. intern!reader headcanon's

day 7 of melancholichristmas is here, sorry for the delay!

you come in extra early into the office before everyone gets there with your hair rollers still in to get started on work early and john definitely catches you one time

so. many. woollen sweaters in spring-time colors

johns definitely one of those bosses who get downnnn at work christmas parties

like that man is on a dance-floor rampage...

he's soo this one video

will 100% walk you to your train stop to make sure you get on the train safe

cause he's a gentleman trust that!

doesn't ask you on a date until you've moved to a different magazine so it isn't a weird power-balance type situation

I have this weird sixth sense that he has a irate fear of cats

so when he comes over to your place and meets your 3 cats his nervous system cannot be calmed down whatsoever...

also would 100% close AND lock the door to the bedroom whenever y'all are in there just so the cats don't interfere

would clown the hell out of you if you wear those tabi mary-janes into the office

but that's okay cause he just doesn't get it

your chaotic nightstand of trinkets deeply offends jfk jr's instincts to a more minimalist style

he lovessss a rare lamb chop let me tell you that for free

he definitely walks into the george office with lip stick stains on his t-shirt

like exactly this shirt, except its real and not embroidery

you guys love drinking a melancholic beer on a nyc rooftop

you both take a lot of cute couple videos outside of work on a shared camcorder

and then you review them at the end of the year on new years eve together over dirty martini's!

has the appearance of a woodland nymph scared when watching scary halloween films

specifically david lynch's 'eraserhead' and the 1960s film 'eyes without a face'

you charm his mother by telling her that you've read war and peace three times and by gifting her a signed first edition copy for her collection:

sorry if this is very short, been feeling a little burnout that's all!

[dreamings-free]

Move over George Clooney. From Paul Mescal to Jeremy Allen White, there’s a new gang of pin-ups with salt-and-pepper hair and they’re under 40

Tuesday August 13 2024, 9.00am BST, The Sunday Times by Richard Gray

—

With the first wisps of silver comes wisdom, they say, but while many men of a certain age choose to turn back the clock by reaching for a box of dye, a new wave of younger men are simply refusing to colour theirs in. The truth is that grey hair has never been so cool — just look at the red carpet. “There’s a handful of relatively young actors who just don’t care if we see them with grey hair or not,” says Paul Toner, deputy editor of 10 magazine. “Look at somebody as successful as Paul Mescal: when he’s not dying his hair for a new role, he lets his grey grow through and doesn’t mind one bit.”

He’s a silver fox? “More a silver fox in training. Let’s call him a silver fox cub instead,” Toner says. At 28, the Normal People star is one of several celebrities who, according to Toner, are “reframing” what it means to be a man approaching his thirties.

“We’ve had ‘zaddies’, those older, strapping sugar daddies with wallets to match — and we all know a silver fox when we see one — but these men, up to and around that 35 mark, understand that with salt and pepper hair comes a certain authority, a sort of superpower,” he says. As one of the four horsemen of the middle-age apocalypse (see also the pierced ear, the leather blouson and a sudden interest in cycling Lycra) the first sight of grey hair is no longer considered the over-the-hill omen of old age it once was.

At 33, arguably the world’s hottest chef who’s not actually a chef, The Bear’s Jeremy Allen White has a cut that cleverly blends his greys (on the temples and at the front) with his medium-length fair and wavy hair. At 30, the Quiet Place actor Joseph Quinn isn’t afraid to let his buzz-cut greys grow out. And at 36, the actors Jonathan Bailey (Bridgerton) — with his Mallen streak — and Nick Sagar (Shadowhunters) — with his all-over grey, natural curls — have cuts that emphasise rather than disguise their salt and pepper hair. A little grey — and its associated characteristics of wisdom, experience, authority and “been about a bit but you still definitely would” — represents, for these men at least, a chance to redefine themselves as they gear up for middle age.

Not that everybody is on board with grey hair. When Louis Tomlinson, of One Direction, turned up at Glastonbury (he’s 32) with — brace yourselves — more than a few wisps of white in the front and sides, social media went into meltdown. From a disapproving “[he’s] making me feel 500 years old”, to “my man is getting more SEXY!”, his natural, dye-free hair caused quite the stir.

“Louis’s hair hovers around the 20 per cent salt to about 80 per cent pepper, mark,” says Mads-Sune Lund Christensen, a colourist at Josh Wood Salon in London. “I have men, and these are successful men, who come in for a colour and ask specifically for some grey to be left in — and that’s a new thing,” he says. “In the past, clients always wanted full coverage to remove it.” So now they want to look their age? “They want the salt and the pepper to show — and its authority.”

“It’s everywhere you look,” Toner adds. “You only have to watch something as hugely popular with men as Match of the Day.” Older chaps, yes, but Alan Shearer, Roy Keane and Gary Lineker — three of the most watched and, certainly, admired men on British television — all have grey hair or grey in their beards. Keane’s salt and pepper Grizzly Adams number is an absolute belter. Forget Succession, it’s these men (see also Graeme Souness and Jamie Carragher, the list goes on) who are influencing how younger millennial males wear their hair and, indeed, how they dress.

A quick walk down the men’s aisle in Boots confirms that products for salt and pepper hair have never been so effective, or popular: Control GX Grey Reducing Shampoo (which sounds as if it should be on Top Gear), for example, maintains that all-important seasoning mix. Meanwhile, what’s surely the best bit of man-kit since the reclining chair, Just For Men Moustache & Beard Brush-In Colour Gel will tone down any of those comedy pirate beards in bingo-marker black.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Mildred Harnack

Mildred “Mili” Harnack was a writer and academic from Wisconsin who moved to Berlin with her German husband in 1930. As Hitler rose to power, Mili created the largest resistance group in Nazi Germany and was targeted for execution by the Fuhrer himself.

Mili was born Mildred Fish in Milwaukee in 1902. Her father William was a teacher, and her mother Georgina was an activist for women’s suffrage. Mili had a natural facility with languages, and was fluent in German by the time she reached adulthood. Throughout her life, Mili loved German literature and culture. She attended the University of Wisconsin in Madison, where she majored in English literature. Mili lived in a rooming house popular with writers, and worked as a film and drama critic for a local newspaper.

After receiving her BA, Mili went on to earn an MA in English in 1925. The next year she moved back to Milwaukee and worked as a lecturer at the Milwaukee State Normal School (now the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee.) She met Arvid Harnack, a German economist and lawyer who was studying at the university on a Rockefeller fellowship. Arvid was from a prominent family of German intellectuals. After a whirlwind love affair, they were married in August 1926 at her brother’s farm. Arvid’s fellowship ended and he returned to Germany, followed by Mili the year later, after she completed a teaching session at Goucher College in Baltimore.

In Germany, Mili worked on her doctoral thesis and lectured at universities in German cities Jena and Giessen. The country was plunging deeper into political turmoil, and the Nazi party was rising to power amid the chaos. More than half of Mili’s students were outspoken Nazis. She moved to Berlin in 1930 to be with her husband, and began working as an assistant lecturer in English and American literature at the University of Berlin. Mili lectured about her favorite English and American writers including Ralph Waldo Emerson, Walt Whitman, Thomas Hardy and George Bernard Shaw. She was so popular with students that in just a year and a half, enrollment in the class tripled.

Mili connected with other American expatriates in Berlin and formed a literary salon where anti-Nazi academics and intellectuals could express themselves freely. By 1934, the Nazi secret police were everywhere and the salon was disbanded. Fellow ex-pat Martha Dodd, a close friend of Mili’s, later described her Berlin salon as “the last of the meager remnants of free thought.” Many of those who had participated in the salons continued to meet in the Harnacks’ living room but instead of discussing literature, they planned anti-Nazi political activism

Meanwhile, Mili achieved renown as a writer. She published essays in prominent German literary journals until the mid-30’s, when magazines started to print only “approved opinions” (in support of Hitler). She was able to continue working as a translator, and her German-language translation of Irving Stone’s biography of Vincent van Gogh, Lust for Life, was published in 1936.

Mili returned to the U.S. on a book tour in 1937, and her old friends were shocked at the drastic change in her personality. Earlier she had been friendly and easy-going, but four years living under Nazi rule made Mili anxious, stiff and guarded. She’d had to wear a metaphorical mask to survive in the totalitarian German state, and couldn’t shed the mask even when she left Europe. Mili’s family urged her to stay in the U.S. but she was determined to return to her husband and her political activism group, now called “The Circle.”

Mili’s unassuming manner combined with an extremely sharp intellect enabled her to penetrate the highest circles of German politics and diplomacy. She used these connections to get exit and travel visas for Jewish friends and colleagues, among them prominent publisher Max Tau. Mili also surreptitiously gleaned information from highly placed contacts, which she transmitted to fellow members of the resistance.

Mildred was fired from her teaching job at the University of Berlin because of her political beliefs, and she began teaching at night school, where her students were mostly working class or unemployed. She recruited many of them to join The Circle. The group published anti-Nazi leaflets, written by Mildred, and secretly left stacks of them in public places throughout the city.

German intelligence called them “the Red Orchestra” and falsely smeared them as communists working for the Soviets. Undeterred, the group increased their activities and cooperated with other resistance units. Around this time Mili wrote, “I saw it clearly before my eyes. From then on our work not only implies the risk of losing our freedom, from now on death was a possibility.” Led by Mili, The Circle became the largest resistance group in Nazi Germany. They incited civil disobedience against the Nazi regime, documented Nazi atrocities, and transmitted military intelligence to the Allies.

In the summer of 1942, the Nazis intercepted radio transmissions that revealed the identity of prominent resistance fighters including the Harnacks. On September 7, Mili and Arvid were arrested by the Gestapo and imprisoned. Arvid was tried by the Reich Military Tribunal and sentenced to death on December 19. He was hanged three days later at Plotzensee Prison.

Mili languished in a squalid prison cell for months, where she was tortured and contracted tuberculosis. She went on trial and was sentenced to six years in prison. However, Hitler heard about the American woman who fought so effectively against his regime, and he ordered a new trial for Mili. The kangaroo court delivered a pre-determined death sentence, and at Hitler’s explicit request Mili was beheaded by guillotine on February 16, 1943. Her last words were, “And I have loved Germany so much!” After her execution, Mili’s body was given to an anatomy professor at Humboldt University to dissect for research. After he finished, he gave the rest of her remains to a friend of hers, who had Mili buried in Zehlendorf Cemetery in Berlin.

The only writing that survived from her time in prison were a few translated lines from Goethe: “In all the frequent troubles of our days/A God gave compensation – more his praise/In looking sky-and heavenward as duty/In sunshine and in virtue and in beauty.”

Mildred’s brave actions and tragic death have not been forgotten. In Berlin, a street and a school are named for her, and in her native Wisconsin schools observe Mildred Fish Harnack Day. The University of Wisconsin-Madison hosts an annual Mildred Fish-Harnack Human RIghts and Democracy Lecture, and a sculpture of Mili was unveiled in Madison in 2019.

For fighting Hitler at the cost of her own life, we honor Mildred Harnack as this week’s Thursday Hero.

Image: Gestapo mug shots of Mildred taken after her arrest in 1942.

[should-know-better]

An interview from Italian Rolling Stone Magazine which I put through Google Translate.

- Note how Alex says that Sweet Dreams TN is about a beautiful Mexican girl 🤔

- Also how Alex is self deprecating about his nose 🥺

Fooling around with the Last Shadow Puppets

Alex Turner, frontman of Arctic Monkeys, and Miles Kane are more like brothers than friends, and they introduce us to the new album by stealing each other's jokes.

25 April 2016. Di Silvia Danielli

They look at each other secretly and burst out laughing, one finishes the other's sentence, from one word they begin to remember a thousand anecdotes about them. They call it bromance, that friendship between two people of the male sex so strong that it resembles a romantic brotherhood. Once upon a time, Bruce Springsteen and his saxophonist Clarence Clemons were a clear example of this, while in the Hollywood field it is Brad Pitt and George Clooney or Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. Alex Turner and Miles Kane, both recently thirty, of The Last Shadow Puppets are no less so.

Some classify it only as the side project of Turner, frontman of Arctic Monkeys, others see its potential. Turner and Kane, the latter in the Rascals and Little Flames and now a soloist for a few years, met at a concert in 2005 and since then "have never left each other". In their free time, obviously, because Arctic Monkeys are a group with a high maintenance rate with a fan base worthy of a boy band and Last Shadow Puppets represent, after all, the time for messing around. In these years they have only produced the album The Age of the Understatement in 2008 and now Everything You've Come to Expect. The proportions, however, could also be reversed: AM are currently at a standstill, TLSP have recently started a long world tour (with two dates in Italy: July 5 in Ferrara and July 6 in Milan) and they already have the last chapter of this ideal trilogy ready (even if they still don't know when it will be released).

We meet them in a boutique hotel in London and it’s 9.30 in the morning. Early for them, very early in fact. Alex is the first to arrive and, even with his eyes rumpled and his quiff ruffled, he is still elegant. Like a new crooner, one might say, in tune with the general mood of TLSP. He starts interviewing me: “Where have you been in London these two days? Where did you eat your Sunday roast? Do you like Saint Paul’s?” After asking him in turn and finding out that he has a house in London, that on Sunday he was also in the Islington neighborhood for the ritual of the roast at the pub with friends and that the ghostly atmosphere of Saint Paul’s Cathedral scares him, Miles arrives and apologizes for the delay. I immediately sense that interviewing two subjects suffering from a bromance at the same time will be anything but simple.

Turner and Kane have both left England (Turner is from Sheffield and Miles from Birkenhead) to live in Los Angeles, so they have even more anecdotes to share, without involving the third wheel (me). They recorded this new album at Shangri-La Studios in Malibu, once Bob Dylan’s and now Rick Rubin’s. They certainly had a pretty good time during that time: “Well, you know, having the Pacific Ocean in front of you all the time gives you a certain energy. Nothing like recording the previous album in the north of France. We also had lots of friends who came to visit us while we were in the studio. And we never went to the beach, you know, otherwise we would have been too distracted. Anyway, that air, the moonlight, the romantic atmosphere…” They laugh. And any chance of bringing them back to a more serious tone is lost forever. They steal each other’s jokes, like when they swear that in L.A. they go to bed early, “because, you know, we wake up really early.” Looks of understanding. And they say they only get pissed off for “fundamental” reasons: “For example, when we both want to wear white shoes in the evening. Even now, I arrived late because I had to change, for example,” Miles explains.

Back on track with Everything You’ve Come to Expect, they say they once again used James Ford (also in Simian Mobile Disco) on drums, Zach Dawes of Mini Mansions on bass and Owen Pallett on strings, but this time they limited the references to Scott Walker: «We chose him for his ability to use strings and transform the pieces into ideal soundtracks, but this time it went differently: we tried to give it a more personal touch». Like the first album, however, this one also seems like a soundtrack with a dreamlike atmosphere. And they reiterate it, using the word dream in two titles: The Dream Synopsis and Sweet Dreams. «Yes, you know, dreams are important, don’t you think?», Alex sneers. Apart from everything else, Sweet Dreams, where Alex brings out his best crooning skills, is remarkable. «It’s the only love song on the album, you know? Dedicated to this Mexican girl, very beautiful…», and he starts singing.

The two have defined the sound of this album as halfway between the Beatles and the Fast and Furious. The first reference is evident in some songs (in the title track, for example), but for the second I ask for explanations: perhaps it applies to the first single they chose, Bad Habits, which is the most rhythmic, quite different from the others and reminiscent of the Strokes. «It could be, some of the Strokes' albums were really fundamental for us, and we still like them». In fact, the video of the two of them at the Strokes concert in New York last summer, while they happily dance to Barely Legal in Hyde Park, went viral in a short time. Like the photos that portray them with it girls, from Alexa Chung to Suki Waterhouse, or the models of the moment, to the delight of the English gossip newspapers. Tombeur de femmes? They laugh. Surely fans of the genre, to the point of choosing sensual women for the covers of their albums, like for the latest one, where there is a young Tina Turner. “Always better,” Alex concludes, “than putting my nose on the cover, don’t you think?”

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 11

1755 – Alexander Hamilton, 1st United States Secretary of the Treasury (d.1804); One had to wonder what the current occupants of the White House would think if they knew of the ruckus caused a couple of centuries ago by Alexander Hamilton and George Washington, the American patriots who became the first secretary of the treasury and president, respectively. George, whom everyone knows had no children of his own, surrounded himself with a circle of young male revolutionaries who he called his "family." Among his favorites were John Laurens, who once fought a duel to defend George's honor sullied by some cad now lost to history; and Alexander Hamilton. George was thought by his enemies to be a bit soft on the boys and was suspected over being overly fond of young Hamilton in particular.

While in Washington's service Hamilton befriended a group of other young officers, with one of whom, John Laurens of South Carolina, he had a particularly close relationship. When the two were apart on separate assignments, they exchanged affectionate letters. In September 1779, gently chiding Laurens for not corresponding as often as he would have liked, Hamilton wrote, "like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued."

Between 1779 and 1782, Hamilton and Laurens exchanged a series of love letters, reprinted in Jonathan Katz's Gay American History, in which Laurens addressed Hamilton as "'My Dear' and offered flowery protestations of undying affection, to which Hamilton responded with the touching declaration: "'I love you'." To this day the letters are explained away on the grounds that 18th century men "were classical scholars whose thoughts and actions were colored by the grandeur of antiquity."

Despite the prestige of his appointment on Washington's staff, Hamilton wished to serve in combat like—and perhaps with—his friend Laurens. Using the pretext of a minor disagreement with the general, Hamilton requested and received a transfer in February 1781. The incident left no hard feelings on either side.

Hamilton and Laurens participated in several military campaigns together later that year but were again separated on August 15, 1782, when Hamilton wrote to his friend, addressing him as "My Dear Laurens." Looking beyond the successful conclusion of the war, Hamilton suggested that both of them should be members of the congress of the new country. "We have fought side by side to make America free, let us hand in hand struggle to make her happy," he wrote in a letter ending, "Yours forever."

It is doubtful that Laurens ever read this letter, for he was killed in a skirmish on August 27. Upon hearing of his friend's death from Major General Nathanael Greene, Hamilton wrote back that he felt "the deepest affliction at the news," adding, "I feel the loss of a friend I truly and most tenderly loved."

Файл:Bojidar Karageorgevitch — Википедия

1868 – Prince Bojidar Karageorgevitch (d.1908), Serbian artist and writer on art, was a member of the Serbian House of Karaorđević. He was a world traveller. He gave singing and drawing lessons and later earned his living as an art critic and translator. He was a contributor to the Encyclopædia Britannica, Figaro, La Revue de Paris, Revue des Revues, Magazine of Art, and other publications.

Prince Bojidar lived in France for most of his life as this family were in exile. Bojidar travelled a lot and went on a number of trips around the world. He served in the French Army and fought in the French campaign at Tonking and was decorated with the Cross of the Legion of Honour. To earn a living he gave singing and drawing lessons before becoming a translator and journalist

During one of his trips abroad, he travelled extensively around India, visiting thirty eight cities. He wrote a book about his experiences called Enchanted India in which he offered an account of the Indian people, their religious rites, and other ceremonies.

He was drawn to the cabarets of Montmarte, the haunt of artists, writers, poets, philosophers. It was there he met and befriended French stage actress Sarah Bernhardt, pioneer of modern dance Loïe Fuller, French poet, novelist and noted orientalist Judith Gautier, Suzanne Meyer-Zundel, Austrian composer Hugo Wolf, painter and illustrator Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, and founder of the Ballets Russes Sergei Diaghilev.

His lover was painter Jules Bastien-Lepage, fourteen years his senior, who predeceased him when Prince Bojidar was only 22 years old. The artist, long ailing, had tried in vain to re-establish his health in Algiers. He died in Paris in 1884. Prince Bojidar, was with him at the end and wrote,

"At last he was unable to work anymore; and he died on the 10th of December, 1884, breathing his last in my arms. At his grave's head his mother and brother lovingly planted an apple-tree, which every spring showers down its wealth of pearly petals over the last resting-place of the great master whose loss we all mourn."

1950 – Rick Bébout is best known for his role in The Body Politic collective in the 1970s and '80s, and for his writings then and since on gay life in Toronto.

One of thousands who had fled to Canada from the United States during the Vietnam War, in 1977 Bébout joined a small group of Toronto lesbian and gay activists who were publishing The Body Politic, a 'gay liberation journal' that had soared to prominence both in Canada and abroad.

Particularly interested in design, he brought the resource-poor publication to an astonishing level of graphic sophistication, while also contributing to its unique voice by writing in its pages.

But his interests extended well beyond sexual politics. Like many other refugees who have settled in Toronto, he was passionate about the city that had embraced him, editing in 1972 The Open Gate: Toronto Union Station, a book that helped prevent the destruction of the iconic building.

Despite his interest in mass politics, he was intensely private and writing was the medium in which he conducted much of his life, particularly in his later years. Notably, he carried on a decades-long correspondence with novelist Jane Rule. (Their letters are being prepared for publication by a US scholar.)

Living with HIV since the mid-1980s, Rick suffered an apparent stroke on June 4, 2009, and died on June 10, 2009, of HIV-related illnesses.

1962 – Today's the birthday of Welsh politician Chris Bryant. Born in Cardiff, Wales. He studied English at Oxford University and theology at Rippon College, Cuddesdon.

Bryant is openly gay, but he was ridiculed in the press when he was discovered to have a Gaydar profile featuring pictures of him wearing only underpants, whilst an MP. In an interview with Attitiude magazine he later described the incident as 'very, very, very, very unpleasant ... I didn't sleep much for about three months.'

Chris Bryant's "Gaydar" picture.

He later appeared looking very buff in swimming trunks at a parlimanetary swimming fundraiser.

In early 2010 Bryant 'married' his partner Jared Cranney in the first civil partnership to be held in the Houses of Parliament.

1972 – Chad Donovan is an American performer and director of gay pornographic films. He has won numerous awards as a performer and director, and is a member of the GayVN Awards Hall of Fame and the Grabby Awards Hall of Fame.

Donovan was born into a Southern Baptist family. His rigid religious background and sexual precocity led to experimentation at an early age. "My first experience with a guy was about eight, just playing around and fingering buttholes. We probably didn't even get hard." Donovan's large endowment prompted teasing from his classmates as he reached puberty. "Through high school I had a difficult time because I had to change clothes for gym and stuff. I nearly failed gym class because I didn't want to change clothes. I got made fun of. Plus, not to mention, I hit puberty at ten. So all these little boys were bald as a peacock and here I am, full out baby's arm holding an apple."

Donovan was introduced to the gay pornographic industry by performers Chase Hunter and Tony DeAngelo. They worked as strippers at a 1470 West, a gay bar in Dayton, Ohio where Donovan was bartending. "We were kind of fucking around, having threeways occasionally. They took pictures of me, sent pictures all around," he recalls. Gay adult studios Catalina Video and Falcon Studios showed interest, and Donovan chose to work for Falcon. He was eighteen years old.

Donovan earned a $2,000 scene rate for his first movie. "When you're a kid living in Ohio, that's a lot of money. And a trip to San Francisco for three days. I did the one scene and two photo layouts. It was fantastic. What more could you ask for?" He filmed the scene with Hunter Scott and Anthony Moore. The scene was released by Falcon in 1994 in the film "Workin' Stiff." Donovan went on to film roughly 50 titles as a performer over the next decade.

In 2001, Bob East of Men of Odyssey broached the idea of directing. "He asked me if I'd be interested in directing. He said I seemed to have a good knack for finding talent, I've been in the industry long enough, why don't I try putting a movie together? So I did." That film was titled "Movin' On," and it was during production that he met and began a relationship with cast member Antonio Madiera, which continues to this day. "I had no intention of getting a boyfriend out of it. I hired the kid, I really liked the way he looked, he performed like a champ, and every time I looked down—when I wasn't even shooting him, I'd be shooting other boys in a scene—he'd be looking up at me with these puppydog eyes. I just couldn't resist."

Donovan's final onscreen sexual performances (as of December 2007) were in 2004. One of those films, "Studs 'N Pups" for MSR Videos, was the first time he and boyfriend Madiera performed together. Madiera continues to act occasionally, usually in films that Donovan directs. In 2007, Donovan helmed Basic Plumbing 3 for Falcon Studios; the film starred Chase Hunter and brought them back together 16 years after Hunter introduced Donovan to the industry. Although essentially retired as a sexual performer, Donovan occasionally appears in nonsexual roles. His early roles remain in circulation as they are continually repackaged into compilation tapes.

1974 – Max von Essen is an American stage and screen actor, and vocalist.

Raised on Long Island, von Essen is a graduate of South Side High School in Rockville Centre, New York. He attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and after graduation toured with Liza Minnelli. He is a member of the Von Essen family, who are part of the German and Swedish nobility. A son of Rita and Thomas Von Essen, who was the New York City Fire Commissioner during the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, he is the youngest of four children. He is openly gay.

He toured Europe in West Side Story and was a cast member of the U.S. national tour of Chicago. He made his Broadway debut in Jesus Christ Superstar in 2000 as Disciple and Jesus of Nazareth understudy. He appeared in Les Misérables on Broadway as the replacement for Fauchelevent and other roles, and starred in Dance of the Vampires alongside Michael Crawford in 2002. He played the role of student revolutionary leader Enjolras (replacement) in the Les Misérables Broadway revival in 2006 at the Broadhurst Theater.

In 2006, he was a soloist at the biggest Andrew Lloyd Webber musical gala to date, held in Tallinn, Estonia. He performed in the national tour of Xanadu as "Sonny" in 2008[8] and in the Roundabout Theater Company Off-Broadway production of Maury Yeston's Death Takes a Holiday at the Laura Pels Theatre in 2011. In 2015, von Essen played the role of Parisian aristocrat Henri in the Broadway production of An American in Paris, for which he received a Tony Award for Best Featured Actor in a Musical nomination.

Max von Essen is now a star of the off-Broadway play “Yours Unfaithfully,” and lives with his partner, Daniel Rowan, in a Hell’s Kitchen duplex.  

Dylan Rice at the OUT Music Awards

1976 – Today is also the birthday of American singer Dylan Rice. He graduated from Northwestern University in 1998 (where he studied poetry) and now lives in Chicago. In 2004 he released an album called Wandering Eyes.

In July 2006, Dylan, who is openly gay, performed his stadium-rock anthem "The Faces of Victory" for 20,000 people at the Gay Games Closing Ceremonies at Wrigley Field in Chicago, joined onstage by Styx bassist Chuck Panozzo, and backed by a chorus of Chicago LGBT rockers. Written especially for the Gay Games, the song was also recorded in the studio with Panozzo, released as a single, and was highlighted in the official Gay Games VII commemorative DVD in December 2006.

For more information about Rice, visit his website at www.dylanrice.com Under the "Music" tab you can even download some of his songs.

1984 – The Wall Street Journal allows staff writers to now use the word "gay" as a synonym for "homosexual" in article and headlines.

2008 – It was reported on this date that the Socialist mayor of Paris, Bertrand Delanoë, had been given increased police protection after US security services informed their French counterparts that he might be attacked by terrorists. While monitoring internet traffic related to Al-Qaeda the CIA discovered that Delanoë was listed as a target. As mayor of France's biggest city he is the most prominent gay politician in the country.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Familiarity

A/N: guys sometimes I just have ideas that MUST be shared with the class

Okay guys I'm going to paint a picture for you all and I need you to stay with me

It's summer break in those two weeks where the boys actually have free time right

And it's after a really spectacular 23-24 season (please Lord my knees are bruised from begging)

Because of how close everyone has gotten, the pretty boys (aka Gavi, Pedri, Ferran, Fermin, Joao, etc) all are vacationing together for a couple of days

Because ya know

Hot single champions league winners (Lord I'm looking at you again)

They're just ready to have a good time being hot and young

As Ariana said, it feels so good to be so young and have this fun and be successful

So they go to Ibiza (ofc)

And they're just out just making the lives of the PR team hell

Shirtless pics on the Insta story every day

Yacht, club, another club, another club, pass out in a luxury hotel

Wake up and repeat

And one night they go to ushuaia

That club that everyone and their mothers went to this year

Gavi, Ferran, George Russel, Daniel Ricciardo

Just really expensive and hip and fun place to listen to music and get turnt

But ofc they're not like paying entry to get in

Oh no, they've been invited as part of an event with, as Pedri so eloquently put, some magazine

Did they care who was paying for their liquor? Absolutely not

So they're all there in pressed shirts with the top two buttons undone (whores)

And having a great time watching girls fall over themselves to come talk to them or get a spot at their table

And then Gavi, trying to remedy the onset of his social anxiety, looks over to the next table and sees you sitting there looking like a slice of heaven

Short black Mugler dress (you know the one with all the see-through paneling? Yeah.)

Heels giving your legs a sculpt and your ass a lift that was borderline illegal in his opinion

And you were just leaned over the table sipping on your drink and swaying by yourself to the music

So Pablito decides that, since you're already in the VIP section, he really can only fall upwards by flirting with you a bit

At least it would be better than whatever Tiktoker Pedri pulled

So he walks over and introduces himself, pushing his glasses further back on his head so you could get a proper look at his face

And our boy is charming and cute and you're ready to have a good time in Ibiza, so you reciprocate

And y'all are just talking and laughing it up and he already has your number to "see you again"

But you're starting to think the "again" is going to be 60 minutes from now in his hotel suite

So now you're both on the same side of the table, his arm is around your waist, fingers dangerously close to your ass

And every time you want to say something, you're getting closer than necessary to his neck and ear and just letting your lips "accidentally" brush across.

And then the rest of F.C. Pretty Boy walks over to interrupt the moment because of course they had to

Professor Pedri had reminded the gang "hot girls have hot friends"

And now Gavi, who was playing with the exposed skin of your thigh, was introducing you to the other wildly famous teammates.

And that's when it happened

It was surprisingly Fermin who finally said "you look really familiar"

And that's when 5 pairs of eyes started to examine you more intensely

Pedri agreed, unable to place you

Gavi knew he had seen you on Instagram before, but didn't want to come across as weird

Ferran was the bravest, asking the question that the others were thinking

"Are you a model?"

"Um, yeah, I guess I'm a model."

The redness in your cheeks and the giggle at the end of the statement had all their eyebrows raised.

"So you're an Instagram model then?" Gavi followed up

"Careful, that's Pedri's type"

The resounding laughter almost drowned out the speakers

"No, I do print as well. I work with brands and stuff but I'm mainly a shoot model. You know, magazines and stuff."

They boys all sent praises your way, exclaiming how they knew you were too hot for just Instagram.

"Pedri here is also a model. His friends over at Men's Health got us in." Gavi smiled widely with his attempt to embarrass his older friend

"Oh, I saw that cover! All of my friends sent it in the groupchat."

Wolf whistles for Pedri and palpable jealously across the group. The other four made mental notes to get a camera and some baby oil asap.

"And what about you, Gavi? When are we going to see you on the cover?"

"Ah, maybe if they get us into another event with you, I'll consider it."

You laughed louder than the generic line deserved, but you were ready to fall to the floor chuckling and snorting to go home with this boy.

"Ah, that might be possible actually. Men's Health is owned by Hearst, and they just bought our magazine. They actually invited me and the girls out tonight."

"Wait, which magazine?" You had been staring at Gavi and didn't place who asked the question

"Um, a men's magazine, you might have heard of it. Do you guys know Playboy?"

Everyone went silent all at once at the realization

So that's why you looked so familiar

"I'd offer you all free subscriptions but it looks like you guys are already avid readers." Your teasing made all of them go red in the ears.

"Is Gavi even old enough to buy a Playboy?"

Despite being a valid question from Fermin, he received a smack on the arm as a response.

"Wait, you also did a campaign for that lingerie brand right? The Rihanna one?" Gavi asked, face brighter than the red lights at the club

"Yeah, back in December! I wore their 'Naughty' line."

Gavi then went off in a tangent, explaining that's where he knew you from (and that maybe he followed the Playboy instagram on his private account)

As the two of you walked off, there was still a tension between the other four

"So..." It was Joao that started

"You guys are jerking off with magazines like we're in the 80s?"

"Hey! Playboy also have a porn channel!" Pedri responded angrily before taking in what he had said.

"So you've been watching her in action and didn't recognize..."

"Okay listen I'm not usually looking at her face!"

Ferran slumped against the table

"All of us out and Gavi picks up a fucking pornstar. He lost his virginity last week and now he's going to fuck a Playboy bunny."

"Guys, did you not hear the part where she said she was here with other girls?" Fermin reminded the group

In conclusion, I would give anything to lock these five in the Playboy mansion for a day. The end.