#NOTE I AM SAYING THAT WITH FRANCE HAVING BEEN MY NUMBER ONE LAST YEAR

[docholligay]

I'm so mad that France is absolutely 💯 killing it for me three years in a row. Ma'am if you keep doing this you can be as French as you want about everything with 50% less ribbing from me (I'm not made of stone)

[cedric-k-rossignol]

Hey! I'm new to the whole ut× claudia thing and ur posts are really interesting ! but the only thing that i don't understand is that why would a ancient and powerful shinigami like Undy fall in love with a mere human?🤔

Hey, cool, my first ask! Thank you, and thank you so much for reading my theory posts :) I hope that based on those you weren't expecting a straightforward answer, because this got long - as my posts about Undertaker always do 😅 I just love talking about these two, what can I say?

TW for discussion of depression and suicide, and a disclaimer - I am absolutely not trying to claim love is a cure for mental illness, because it isn't.

'Mere' human. I'll pretend you didn't just slander My Lady, The Countess of Phantomhive! I kid, I kid.

Well... Why do any of us fall in love? The human heart is an odd, perplexing, often inconvenient possession - and let us not forget that Undertaker undoubtedly has a human heart.

Undertaker and Sebastian both have this sense of both otherworldly creatures, demi-gods that laugh at the little ant humans scurrying beneath their feet. But a huge difference between them is that before Undertaker was a reaper, he was human. Yes, he's ancient, yes, he's powerful, yes he's a shinigami- but he was born a human, he lived a human life, and he made the decision to end that human life at his own hand. Even in the afterlife, even after trying to carve it out yourself, the human condition seems a tricky thing to be rid of.

He's introduced to us as this giggling weirdo who takes jokes as payment, but as the plot progresses and as more about him is revealed, we get glimpses of a more serious man, someone whose natural state seems to be more melancholic. And I think this portrayal is twofold, showing us someone who is a) consumed with grief and b) depressed, despite the initial mask he wears of a just being a silly goofy lil guy.

We don't know why exactly Undertaker committed suicide, and I don't know if we will ever get a clear answer. Often there is no specific reason. It's a bunch of little things that pile up. It's the burden those who suffer from mental illness carry in trying to navigate what others wouldn't blink twice at. And I definitely think Undertaker was (and is) mentally ill.

... However, on that note. I haven't even finished my outline for my write up about Undertaker's life as a human, but if I'm correct in my theories about him, 1331 - 1366 would have been an absolutely horrible time to be alive in Brittany. The hundred years war between France and England began in 1337, when he was 6. The black plague would have been rampant in France from when he was 16-21, and had a death toll of 70-80% in parts of the country. There was a civil war in Brittany that began when he was 10 years old, and ended 9 months before his death in 1366 (and I think the ending/outcome of this civil war might have played a part in his decision to die).

I know people had it generally rough back then...but I mean, come on. There is more than likely an element of untreated PTSD to this, as well - nevermind what the centuries of working as a reaper would do to one's mental health.

And he works as a reaper for centuries. Can you imagine? Some 450 years of watching people die - the elderly, the young, parents, babies, people who suffer and slowly succumb to illness, others who have life violently ripped from their grasp. He throws himself into this work, identifying completely with his role as a reaper. He goes only by his serial number instead of his birth name, an oddity even among their kind. There is some major dissociation going on here, and this isn't the last time (nor imo, the first time) he over identifies with his work to escape his personal problems. But I can't really blame him - you would have to numb yourself to it, harden yourself against the sheer scale of human tragedy you're forced to face every day.

But something makes him snap in 1819. Something that more than likely has to do with Queen Victoria; something that turns him against his employers. 136649 goes from employee of the millennium to slaughtering half of reaper headquarters. You were right to call him powerful.

Now, and this might be kind of odd, but the conclusion I reach from this massacre is that Undertaker has a moral code, which is very different from say, Sebastian's 'aesthetics'.

This event predates Cloudia's birth, and even though I do think the reapers have varying degrees of access to time travel, I do not think the reason for the massacre at HQ is Queen Victoria's purported involvement in her and Vincent's death. Basically, I do not think Cloudia can be sourced as the reason/foundation for Undertaker's moral code (a trap so many fictional women unfortunately tend to fall in) - it comes from within him. His reason for acting comes from his own experiences, his own thoughts, his own feelings - and I don't see how it could be motivated solely by a personal wrongdoing against only him. Yes, his bosses most likely did fuck him over (so relatable), but what harm could Queen Victoria do to him as a reaper? None - the threat she poses must be to the human world, the little ants that they are, and basically, Undertaker cares. That pesky little human heart just won't quit.

Another point to this is that the first mourning locket is dated in 1837, right after he officially deserts around the time of Queen Victoria's coronation. The concept of caring about someone enough to create (or even commission) a locket, with a personalized design made intricately out of their hair (and Molly's locket is insanely detailed) marks a return to humanity after centuries of endlessly and mindlessly reaping souls. Even if the mourning lockets turn out to be a 'weapon' of some sort, as some have theorized, he didn't have to make them so detailed or personalized. I see the mourning lockets as marking Undertaker's brief return to 'humanity'. This return is not a result of his love affair with Cloudia - but it will end with her death, as she is the last locket to be made.

So, why would Undertaker fall in love? He's human. He's a reaper, but he's human.

Why would he fall in love with Cloudia?

Well...opposites attract.

So you know how I said Undertaker's real personality trends towards the serious, towards melancholia? Something else that supports that read on his character is what Yana has said about Vincent and Frances (and Lizzie and Edward), in that the boys take after their mother, and the daughters take after their father.

This means that Frances (and Edward) take after Cedric. So serious, strict, disciplined Frances takes after her father - well. Doesn't sound like the Undertaker we're familiar with, but it certainly sounds like reaper 136649, right? Meanwhile, Vincent takes after Cloudia. Wisecracking, easygoing, confident, charming Vincent - he got it from his Mama.

I think that Cloudia brought Undertaker joy. I think she offered him real connection. I think she lightened his very heavy heart. I think she made him laugh - I think she's the reason why laughter is everything to him now, why he asks for it in lieu of coin (anti-capitalist king). Opposites attract.

I think this also plays into some very complicated family dynamics...Self-hatred could be part of why Frances and Undertaker's relationship is so strained, while in comparison Undertaker's relationship with Vincent seems stronger. Beyond a father's love for his son, it also explains his devastation at having his strongest remaining 'link' to Cloudia ripped away - even her ghosts leave him.

There's also an element of a common enemy - while I don't think that Undertaker's hatred of Queen Victoria was due to the danger she posed to Cloudia, I do think it may have brought them together. There's also a comment Vincent made about the women in their family being strong-willed. Cloudia was a woman at the head of an aristocratic family in the 1850s. Not only a Countess, she was a watchdog, in charge of overseeing the underworld - again, as a woman, in the 1850s.

I have no doubt Cloudia was a force to be reckoned with. Even for an ancient, powerful shinigami, such a woman must have been charming. And I have no doubt losing her broke Undertaker.

The man we know is a shell of his former self, devastated by grief, unable to cope with the loss of the woman he loved, their son, their grandchildren... One a walking corpse and the other on death row as a demon's dinner. He may blame himself for being unable to prevent these deaths. Whatever grip he had on his sanity has gone out the window. He has committed atrocities in the name of trying to reverse the horror that befell his family.

This panel is one of the saddest in the manga for me, as I think it sums up the tragedy of Undertaker's character. The purpose - no, the meaning to life Cloudia brought him is hanging on the same thin thread that is the twins' fragile and fleeting existences. He made the decision to end his life, to escape whatever pain he felt to be unendurable at the time - over five centuries later, and he still hasn't been able to escape. Even in death, he is unable to rest in peace.

I hope we see him find that peace by the end of the manga.

Wow, long and off track, quelle surprise. Thank you VERY MUCH for the ask, I hope you enjoy my ridiculous response, I definitely enjoyed writing it!

[the-fiction-witch]

Alone

Media - House of Anubis Character - Jerome Clarke Couple - Jerome X Reader Reader - Y/n Y/L/N Rating - Flirty Af (Maybe mild smut only a lil bit) Word Count - 1250

Jerome stood in his room dressed in his best grey jeans, his blue button down and his grey waistcoat. He was humming to himself 'I'm So Excited' as he made his bed, tucking in a black sheet over his mattress protector, then tossing on his grey duvet cover flattering it out nicely, and finally putting his two grey pillows against the headboard first one on top of the other but then he smiled wickedly and put the pillows one beside the other on his single bed. He then sat on his bed and happily tapped his fingertips together. 

Across the bedroom, Alife packs his suitcase ready for his trip home. "Are you really THIS excited Jerome?" 

"Alfie, I don't think you understand." he began, "Seven days. Alone. In Anubis house. With Y/n." He explained, "I am Ecstatic!" 

"If y/ns here you're not really alone, are you?"

"Shut up Alife,"

Alfie sighed and zipped up his suitcase, "Seriously though. I beg of you. Whatever you two are... going to do this week... please don't do it anywhere... non-sanitizable." 

"We'll try," 

"Have fun man," Alfie told him grabbing his suitcase,

"Ohh I will," Jerome smirked, "Have a good break Alife, See you in a week,"

"See ya," 

Alife then quickly leaves waving his roommate goodbye, Jerome excitedly sits in his bed counting the goodbyes that Trudy makes at the door to each and every Anubis house member as they leave for the week off. Alife going to his parent's vacation home in France, Nina is back off to America, Fabain going to his uncles, Mara off to see her parents, Amber going to some fancy vacation spot, Mick is off on a sports trip, Patrica is away with family too. All the pieces line so perfectly together. Until he heard the words that made him jump with excitement. 

"Mr Clarke! Miss Y/l/n!" Victor yelled from the entryway, 

Jerome bolted up and out of his room leaning on the wall of the boy's downstairs corridor with a smile, seeing Trudy by the door with her bag, Victor by the door with his suitcase and Y/n, standing on the stairs having come down from the girls rooms, in her small white sneakers, black leggings, little purple skirt, white t-shirt, her hair in a side braid and her almost trade mark at this point purple lipgloss. He bites his lip a little as he sees her the idea of everything they can do this week running through his mind. 

Jerome and Y/n had been friends as long as either really remember both getting dropped off at boarding school at the age of five and had always been around each other ever since, The two had been dating secretly for the last two years but rarely get time alone given Anubis house always being full of people, the only people who knew where Alife given he's jeromes roommate and Fabian and Nina but that's only because they are also a couple and thus the four work together to ensure no one gets caught. 

He can barely contain himself as Trudy says goodbye as she heads off on a trip. 

"Be good the both of you," She warns, 

"We will," Y/n smiled,

Trudy then leaves, leaving only Victor by the door. 

Victor glared both of them down before speaking as he paces the entry way, "Now, a refresher of the rules. No parties. No people over. No leaving the house unless it's an emergency. No Mr Clarke pizza is not an emergency."

Jerome almost chuckled but bit his tongue,

"Any non-emergency household issues such as blown bulbs and broken furniture noted down on the pad on my office door. For emergency house issues such as broken ovens or clogged showers call the Zeus house groundskeeper his number is on the fridge. My office is locked as it shall remain until I return, no attic, no basement, no fires in the fireplace, and I don't care if it's your term break lights out and be in bed at 10 o'clock precisely and I will still want it to be quiet enough to hear a pin drop as usual. And absolutely. Positively no room sharing. "

Jerome and Y/n make sneaky side eye at each other a few times during these rules almost as a silent understanding that most if not all those rules are going to be ignored, 

"Do we understand?" Victor asked,

"Got it." He nodded putting his hands in his pockets,

"It's all going to be fine, We are very capable," Y/n smiled, 

"You I trust Miss Y/L/n." Victor nodded going to the door, he then made a point to glare at Jerome which was enough of an answer of how much he trusts him, 

"We'll be just fine, Victor. Don't worry about a thing. We'll take good care of Anubis house and each other while you're gone." Jerome smiled,

"Alright, Emergency key and numbers are on the fridge. I expect good behaviour." He glared, before picking up his case and heading out the door he locked the first and then went out the second locking that one too. 

For a moment Jerome and Y/n stand in the silence letting it sink in that they are... really alone. 

"We... are... alone," Y/n said, 

"We're finally alone! No rules, no supervision, just you and me for a whole week." He gasped trying to hold back his excitement, 

She steps down the stairs for a moment checking as if she doesn't trust that everyone isn't just going to jump out on them, "All alone, after so long of boarding school houses and summer camps we..."

"No Victor, No Trudy, No Alife, no anyone. Just us." He offers his hand and she happily takes it so he spins her around in the entryway under the grand chandelier, "We're finally all alone,"

"Finally all alone," They press their foreheads together and can't hold back the smiles their arms around one another lovingly, 

"So, what do you want to do first? We can do anything we want! No limits, no rules, no restrictions."

"I have an idea," she smirked grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss,

He kisses her back the two quickly letting their tounges explore one and another as they heavily make out, He pulls her waist a little till he pushes her up against the wall already egarly getting his hands up her skirt, 

When the outside door opens making them pull apart, Y/n moves around the corner leaning her back on the wall, Jerome leaning his elbow on the wall to his side, and both smile awkwardly as Victor comes back in. 

"Hi!" Jerome yelps, 

"Forgot my hat," Victor said grabbing his hat, even if he lusciously glared between the two of them, 

Y/n did her best not to blush and Jerome did his best not to smile too much but as Y/n glanced between them she glared at Jerome seeing his lips now purple from her lipgloss so she made eye contact with him and rubbed the corner of her mouth which Jerome picks up on any quickly wipes the lipgloss from his mouth and innocently smiles,

"Behave," Victor demanded before he left locking both doors again, 

Jerome and Y/n wait this time to hear his car actually leave, before both let out a quick breath of relief. 

"Wanna go sit and make out on the sofa?" He asked,

"And order Pizza?" She asked,

He quickly pulls her into another kiss, "I love you."

"I love you too," she smiled grabbing his hand and dragging him into the living room, 

[redwineconversation]

I Guess I Miss(ed) You (Amandine Henry OLPlay Exit Interview)

I think two things can be true at the same time: there is a legitimate debate as to whether Amandine Henry forged Olympique Lyonnais into her image or whether Olympique Lyonnais forged Amandine Henry into their own; and Amandine Henry fucked over the love of her life out of spite. The two are not mutually exclusive. In some ways, it's what makes this love affair so messy and complex. Isn't that how all proper breakups go?

Sonia Bompastor has a ton of faults but if we're being honest with each other, everything that she has said about Amandine Henry's attitude towards Lyon thus far has been correct. I don't think Sonia Bompastor is a particularly good coach. I also think she was telling the truth about Amandine Henry.

Anyway. As I said, when a relationship has lasted as long as Henry's did with Lyon, it was only going to end one of two ways: cemented in stone as Telefoot predicted back in 2015, or messy, bitter, and complicated. As Taylor Swift once mused, "did this love affair maim you, too?"

Based on the exit interview, both Lyon and Amandine Henry would probably answer as follows: yes, it did.

Two vindictive sociopaths wanting to keep score on the other? How could you not look at that and think, well, yeah, of course it would end this way. Neither party really knows what their life will look like now that the other walked out of it completely. If we're being honest, neither party wants to.

Alexa, play "I Hope" by Gabby Barnett.

AMANDINE HENRY OLPLAY INTERVIEW

Henry: Well we are here today to say goodbye. Not farewell but goodbye because I will soon be leaving the club. It's been 16 years that I have been at Lyon. And yeah, it's time for me to spread my wings and fly away, and sign with another club. And obviously it won't be in France, but in the United States, in Los Angeles. And I am happy to have experienced all these years at Lyon. And I'm happy to try new things elsewhere.

Timothee: This was a really important page in your life, I can imagine.

Henry: Oh yeah, yeah. It was a big part of my life. 16 years, it's not nothing. I came as a little girl [she was 17], and now I am leaving as a woman. So I learned a lot of things, be it on the field but also a lot off of it. I, yeah, I matured. I also caught the Lyon DNA, the winning mentality. I have won an enormous amount of trophies with the club, with all the players, all the coaches. So yeah. There's a lot of emotion.

Timothee: Do you know the number of games you played for Lyon? [Henry exhales] Roughly?

Henry: 360?

Timothee: There are six too many, 354.

Henry: 354, yeah.

Timothee: You're third behind Wendie [Renard] and Eugenie [Le Sommer].

Henry: Yeah.

Timothee: It shows the extent you wore this jersey, the extent to which you made your mark in this history of this club.

Henry: I don't know if I made history. But in any case I was here for a long time. 350 games, sorry, 354 games, it went quickly. But things definitely happened. And yeah it hasn't really sunk in for me. I think it will only sink for me later. But yeah. Between the Champions League, all the Coupe de France, the leagues.. There was a lot of things.

Timothee: Well, unfortunately the last time we saw you on the field, I think a lot of people were afraid after they saw the images. Me included, you included as well I imagine. Is everything better now?

Henry: Yeah, the knee is healed, everything is good. [Note that Le Progres had reported that Henry was fit to play the last games of the season but refused to do so because she didn't want to risk injuring herself before the transfer to Angel City]. I can play again, no worries. It's true that I was more scared than anything else. But that's also part of your career as a player.

Timothee: That's good to hear. It doesn't happen often so I guess we'll take it. When you came here as a 17-year-old, did you expect you would only leave 16 years later, with more than 350 games played and I think 30 trophies if my maths is correct.

Henry: No. No, I didn't imagine that would happen at all. When I arrived, I remember I came here for the first time with my parents, I had just left Clairefontaine [French national football academy]. And actually I cried. I was crying and my parents were like "why?" And I was like, "well this means I am never coming home." And I think that's when I understood that Lyon would become my life. I didn't think it would be 16 years though. 16 years is a lifetime, if we're being honest. And now I think I am going to cry because I'm leaving. But - [Henry's voice cracks]

Timothee: It's half your life, exactly.

Henry: [voice cracking] Yeah. Yeah, that's huge.

Timothee: It's huge when we look at how the story got to this point. There are so many clips of wins, so many clips of happiness. It's pretty exceptional. I imagine you realize that.

Henry: No, I don't think I've really let it sink it, because I'm still involved in it. I think it will be once my career is over, when I've retired, that I will be like "it's true, we've experienced so much together, all the players, these exceptional teams." [Henry's voice cracks again] And the Champions Leagues, obviously. The first one we won together. And as you said, there was an enormous amount of sacrifices, but yeah, it was all worth it, because - yeah. Beyond the trophies, it's about emotions. Those will stay with you.

Timothee: That first Champions League, the first one Lyon won. Can you tell us about it? When we talk to players about it, they all say that that one was special. If I remember correctly, the previous year, it was complicated for you.

Henry: Yeah, I missed the penalty. If I had scored we would have won.

Timothee: And then that happened.

Henry: And then we won. And when you win it for the first time, it's exceptional. I remember it was at Fulham. When we scored, the celebrations after. All the players, all the staff. Yeah. The Board of Directors were there, the employees. It was a moment of glory.

Timothee: In reality you had a pretty symbolic career in women's football. You experienced it all. You experienced the beginnings when everything was just becoming professional, Lyon's rise as a powerhouse, you were there for that. Well it was in part thanks to you. The media aspect. You saw all that grow.

Henry: Well I remember, when I came as a 17-year-old, we didn't even have our own locker room. We had to go home with our stuff. It wasn't even professional contracts. And then there was the big stadium, everything became professional, there was a massive evolution at Lyon. When I look at when I arrived and now when I'm leaving, a lot of things changed.

Timothee: You were really at the core, everything happened in front of your eyes.

Henry: Yeah, I experienced all that.

Timothee: You witnessed it all. Do you realize that you made history? Well, Olympique Lyonnais Feminin made history. But you as well. You're part of the names written in the history books.

Henry: I don't know. I hope Lyon won't forget me, because I will remember everything I experienced. After, we're all just anecdotes. But I think our names will be in the history books because we were first players at Lyon to have won the Champions League, and won so many trophies. And I don't know - well I hope I made a good lasting impression.

Timothee: I don't think Lyon will forget you. It's important to highlight it wasn't always smooth sailing, and there was a severe knee injury early on which could have ended your career. It's a story you've told before, but it's important to remember it's something you had to go through.

Henry: Yeah. When I came to Lyon, they detected a cartilage problem in knee in the first year I was there. I had to be operated on. And when I met the surgeon, he said that the operation wasn't standard and that I might never be able to play professional football again. And maybe that's what motivated me, because I got it in my head that if you want to do something, your body will follow. But it wasn't easy, that's for sure. It was a roll of the dice. Either I came back or I wouldn't be able to play again.

Timothee: Do you think that's what forged your mentality, the one we know you for?

Henry: Oh yeah. That's for sure, because if you say I'm not going to play football again, you're taking away my reason for living. It was everything to me. I was living, breathing football. And yeah that shapes you, because you know you're so close to not be able to play football again. In those difficult moments you just have to say to yourself there are worse things in life, and that you haven't done all this for nothing.

Timothee: And exactly, that mental strength that you have, it's what makes you stand out. It allowed you to have some exceptional performances, with always that will to win and that ability to basically play at any position. It can't always be easy as a player, because you're the one that has to bail the team out, but you're also in a team, and that's really valuable. It's so important to have players like that.

Henry: Yeah, it's true that I have played a lot of different positions. But after, it was to help out the team so I was happy to do it. And after, it's also the Lyon DNA. You do what it takes to win. You can ask any player who has been here, you can tell there are moral values that have been passed on. That desire to win is so engrained in you, even for the smallest thing, the smallest thing in practice, the smallest practice game, you have to want to win. And that's what the Lyon DNA is.

Timothee: And what would you makes you able to play basically any position?

Henry: No, I can help out, but - I mean, I tried. I think that when you like football, you learn to adapt. And I was well surrounded as well. I had good teammates, good coaches who gave me confidence.

Timothee: You're also a player who shows up in big games. I remember the games last year, the double confrontation against PSG in the Champions League. You just show up in big games. How do you explain that ability to step up in the big games?

Henry: Because you have to push yourself. When you're playing the big games, you're often in the big stadiums, the pitch is perfect. There's everything in place to play a big game. So that's it. It's simple really, when I leave the hotel and we're heading towards the stadium, even in the bus, that's where I think everything comes into play. During the trip, my heart starts racing, you're feeling all the emotions, and then you go into automatic pilot. And that's why I like football, it's for the big games.

Timothee: The more important the game, the stronger the emotions. In reality it changes you.

Henry: Yeah, exactly. That's it. It's - yeah.

Timothee: And of course, the perfect example of that is the final [against Barcelona].

Henry: Yeah, that.

Timothee: And that unbelievable goal. I went crazy over that goal. Can you tell us about it?

Henry: Actually, as soon as I won the ball I knew I was going to shoot. I said to myself, take the shot, just take the shot. If it goes wide then it goes wide, if it goes in then even better. And when I scored, I remember that the families were seated on the other side, so I wanted to run over there, but it was too far, and the players were stopped me halfway. And I just let it all out, because the season had been so hard mentally because of all the injuries the team had been subjected to, and all that. And for me personally as well it had been hard [Henry had had to play CB which she hates, being left out the French National Team, etc]. And I just let it all out. And I'll be honest, for the next 5-10 minutes I found it so hard to get back into the game. And I really had just let everything out on that goal. Everything was let out all at once. And it was just the accumulation of everything. And then it was Barcelona, everyone was saying they were favorites, everyone was saying Lyon was finished, etc. So yeah. I let everything out when I took that shot.

Timothee: I understand. It explains the power, you really put everything into it.

Henry: Yeah. Everything was there. It's something you only see in your dreams. You're in the final of the Champions League against Barcelona and you take a shot like that. I didn't really believe it myself.

Timothee: What are the moments that stand out for you in your time at Lyon?

Henry: Well first of all when I first signed with Lyon when I was 17. It was such a huge moment for me, I was going to play with the best players in France, even in the world. I was playing next to Camille Abily, Louisa Necib, there were a lot of big names. So I couldn't believe it. So I said to myself, this is where it begins. And then there was the first Champions League final that we won. That was a really big moment. After, I'm not sure I'm really allowed to say this, but the celebrations at Saint-Tropez, with the players. (#DrunkOL). And then all the league trophies, the moments shared with the players in the locker room, the trips. There's a lot of things.

Timothee: It's interesting how the group evolves but there is something that stays year after year. The team changes and evolves, new players come in, but the integration seems to really work. It works because we feel each year that the group is special, that each win is special, and it's also a team win.

Henry: Yeah, it's because I don't think that people realize there are enormous sacrifices during the season. It's long, it's so long. You often have lingering injuries, loss of confidence. Sometimes it's this player, something it's that one. And sometimes it's like a family, because we're together sometimes 14 hours a day. We see each other more than our families. So you have to have solidarity. And if we want to win, if we want to continue winning, that DNA has to be passed on. All the groups we've had, that's why they've been successful, the Lyon DNA.

Timothee: And each year you have new players who are integrated. Last year it was Lindsey [Horan], whom you already knew really well. It must have been nice to have her here. And you maybe already knew it, but she came in, we saw her play some excellent games from the beginning, but you already knew she could do that.

Henry: Yeah, I played with her in Portland. I already knew she was a great person, so that's important, and a superb player as well. So I wasn't surprised to see her shine.

Timothee: What can you tell us about your future? You already mentioned the next club. What is the future going to look like for you?

Henry: Yeah, so I signed with Los Angeles [Angel City]. In the short term, there's the World Cup coming up. I hope to be a part of it. So that's the short term. After -

Timothee: It would be nice to be a part of it.

Henry: For sure. After everything I went through as well. Winning it would be nice as well.

Timothee: While we're at it.

Henry: Yeah. There's Los Angeles [Angel City], which I want to commit to as well. It will allow me to prepare myself for after I retire, bring my English back and get all that in order. And I hope to become a mother in the next few years as well.

Timothee: You already an American adventure when you were in Portland. You liked it enough to return.

Henry: Yeah. Beyond the football, it was a superb experience, you learn so much, a new culture, a new way of working. And then the US - well, it's Los Angeles, so I think it'll be a nice place.

Timothee: On a personal level, it's a big thing as well. That's football as well. And Lyon was that as well, somewhere where you experienced so much as a person. So there's a part of you that's looking for some more. But I imagine that it's important in sports to also have the personal element.

Henry: Yeah. For me it's almost fundamental. If you win a trophy but you don't feel anything, something's wrong. As I was telling you earlier, it's what you remember. And in Los Angeles [Angel City], it's a club that's starting to evolve, it's barely two years old, their history is only beginning to be written. So I hope I can contribute to it.

Timothee: And bring all of your experience, and your knowledge of how to win.

Henry: I hope so.

Timothee: Is there anything you'd like to add? Something you'd like to say before we wrap up?

Henry: [voice cracks] I would like to say thank you. Thank you to all my teammates, all the staff members, everyone who has supported me, who encouraged me, who allowed me to be here today. [Henry starts crying] And thank you to Lyon, really. The Lyon family. And I hope to be back one day. That's it.

Timothee: Well we're far from being able to forget you. And I think that for everyone who has followed Lyon, it's up to us to say thank you. Thank you for everything you have done for the club, Amandine.

Henry: Thank you.

[totaldramafan-lauri]

My Top 11 Favorite Songs of Eurovision 2024

So, with less than a week left until Eurovision, I guess it's time for me to ramble about it! Uhhhh....th-this year's a bit different than normal, tho....Due to writing exhaustion (from a big project I've been working on), I'm not gonna be able to get my normal big ranking post done in time.....but, I DO still wanna talk about it, so....this is my compromise!

I'm gonna only be talking about eleven songs - my top seven big favorites and four borderline favorites - and why I love each one! As always, there are gonna be a few weird picks in here, cuz my taste is....well, odd, when it comes to which songs I get attached to....but, at the very least, my number one is a potential winner, so I-I think that balances out my unconventional choices down the list, heh.....

Th-things SHOULD be back to normal next year....cuz, trust me, I am NEVER gonna tackle something like this, during this time of year, ever again....I-I should be excited, but instead my mind is just....picking me apart for DARING to take a break from writing, and it kinda cuts into the hype a bit....Wh-which isn't Eurovision's fault, it's mine. This is what happens when you work on something for months on end....even if you KNOW you need a break, you feel guilty for it...blegh...

But....anyway....screw my brain, time to talk about songs that make me happy!

WORTH NOTING: Even if a song isn't listed here, it doesn't mean I don't like it. I actually like nearly every single song this year. There are three I'm indifferent to (Greece, Malta, France), and one I refuse to listen to, but none that I outright dislike of the ones I've heard. These eleven are just my favorites.

1. Croatia - "Rim Tim Tagi Dim" by Baby Lasagna

Eeyup, still obsessed! This is probably my fav Eurovision entry of the entire 2020s so far (which, when grouped together with "Jezebel", "Promise", and "Cha Cha Cha", REALLY makes me wonder what it is about rock entries and me this decade, geez-). I-I'm not saying this is a masterpiece or anything. It's not high art (vote for Switzerland if you want a unique, artsy winner), it's just a REALLY REALLY catchy, and REALLY REALLY fun, punchy rock song, and that's all I need it to be to love it. Seriously, every single part of this song is addictive to me. The repeated "rim tim tagi digi" is infectious, the lyrics are quotable and fun to sing along to, the "WHOOOOAAAA"s in the chorus especially....and I dunno if I can justify my love for it anymore! I just LOVE me a good energetic rock song with a memorable hook, and this is one of THE best I've ever heard...It's SO hard to keep outta my head.....I literally could not be happier that this song is getting so much attention! It deserves it! While I'm trying not to hype myself up TOO much in terms of winner potential (don't wanna jinx it, since not a single number one fav of mine has won in over a decade), but I'm crossing my fingers for Croatia's best result ever! At least third place, c'mooooooon! Meow back, Europe!! >.<

2. Belgium - "Before The Party's Over" by Mustii

I already made a post talking about all the things I love about this song, but...screw it, I'm HAPPY to repeat myself here. This song has just....the BEST buildup in- n-not just this year, but like, in the past few years! I can't remember the last song that built so perfectly (was it "Goodbye (Shelter)"? God, I miss 2016...)! The first two minutes set the stage for the last one perfectly, being atmospheric and dramatic, while slowly revealing more and more....things ramp up in the bridge, you feel like pumping your fists in the air, and then, finally....BAM, MAGIC HAPPENS!!! BEFORE THE PARTY IS OOOOOOVER! Look, I have seen a few people complain that the big ending of the song is repetitive, cuz...it's the same line eight times in a row, and I get it, but.....I literally don't mind. I'm too busy belting that line to care. This is everything I want in a dramatic ballad. I could NOT ask for more. That last minute still gives me goosebumps sometimes. Maybe if the rest of the song were a BIT better, this could've been challenging Croatia for number one, I'm dead serious.

3. San Marino - "11:11" by Megara

I've come to terms with the fact that this is probably just a me thing. I'm not gonna pretend like this isn't a no-hoper. It is, but.....DANG IT, I love this song wayyyyyy too flipping much for my own good! I'm sorryyyyyyy! I can't help it, I just...get so PUMPED UP listening to it! Yes, it's not as catchy as "Rim Tim Tagi Dim", but I can love both! And I will! I EASILY have room in my heart for two banger rock songs! Plus, this one is a lot....harder, I guess? With less of a focus on being catchy. It manages to stick out and leave an impression, with the big chorus, electronic elements, "M-E-L-A-P-E-L-A", and that FFFFFFLIPPING AWESOME BREAK with the flamenco instrumentation- again, WHY DOES THAT WORK SO WELL?? When it put it in words, it sounds like it shouldn't, but it's SOOOOOO COOL I CAN'T EVEN!!! Ugggghhhh, Spain, why'd you reject these guys? They're soooooo much better than what you actually ended up with! But....a-again, this is a me thing, so I can't get ahead of myself. It's a rock song in Eurovision, so of course I love it. No one else cares about this. It's fine. I'll be here in my corner shouting along in terrible Spanish in the semi, and cheering for it loud enough to make non-qualification sting less! >.<

4. Lithuania - "Luktelk" by Silvester Belt

This is a song that grabbed me from first listen. I knew it'd be in my top five immediately, and yet.....I-I honestly don't have much to actually SAY about it...? It's just a really, really, REALLY solid club song, and I tend to like those a lot. The only real things I can say about it is that.....1. I love that it's in Lithuanian, even tho that means I can't sing along, 2. The pre-choruses are catchy and I love them, and 3. The instrumental break is SO good! Oh, and I guess 4. I've been waiting SOOOO LONG to love a Lithuanian entry this much, so it feels really great to finally have one. They really outdid themselves here. And they already came eleventh last year! Hopefully this will build on that and give them their first top five placing....altho in a year this strong, I'm not sure if that's just wishful thinking.....That's all I have to say. I just love how this sounds.

5. Australia - "One Milkali (One Blood)" by Electric Fields

Not NEARLY as much of a no-hoper as San Marino, but this is my other major underdog of the year. Honestly, it took me a bit too long to understand just why I liked this song so much, when everyone else seemed to be indifferent to it. THEN I learned from a video that this song, along with this band's sound in general, counts as synthpop. And suddenly, EVERYTHING made sense to me. Seriously, I have no idea why it took me so long to realize that-! W-was it the didgeridoo? Was that distracting me? Hardly an excuse! XD But yeah, looks like this is another me thing, then. Synthpop (and synthwave) is my fav genre of music. I-I know I have a history of fangirling over rock songs in Eurovision, but....I-I AM generally an "everything goes" person in terms of songs I love, and Eurovision just tends to get rock right for me, but outside of Eurovision, a good chunk of what I listen to is synth stuff. It's something that I tend to love whenever it shows up. And this is certainly a very unique take on it, with the aboriginal flourishes, and the fascinating lyrics that.....a-again, no one else cares about but me, pffff. Also, that keyboard? Perfection. Chef's kiss. Congrats on being in my top five two years in a row, Australia. Here's hoping your staging is good, cuz I still believe you have a chance to prove everyone wrong...! >.<

6. Ukraine - "Teresa & Maria" by alyona alyona and Jerry Heil

I-I was originally gonna rank this song a bit lower, cuz...I do concede that it's a flawed song. There are things about it that I wish were better, and cuz of that, I thought it wouldn't be right to rank it this high, but....th-then it comes on again, and I can't help it....I just fall in love with the parts I like in it all over again. Those things I love are HARD for me to shake, so....I had to go with my gut. To explain, this is kinda like the polar opposite of Belgium's song. This song has an amazing beginning that gives me chills, but then peters out afterward. I REALLY wish it burst more at the end after the rap. Instead, it just kinda...chugs along, sounding a bit repetitive. That's a shame, but....DANG IT this song is still so, so gorgeous anyway! Of the "atmospheric" songs this year, this is EASILY the best one. The rap keeps it interesting and makes it stand out, but.....I'm not gonna lie, the main reason this song makes it this high for me IS that first 53 seconds. Is that a weird thing to praise your number six for? Maybe. But....gotta go with what feels right.

7. Finland - "No Rules!" by Windows95man

Soooo.....now that it's safe to call Finland my fav country in 2020s Eurovision, AND that I have no shame when it comes to praising the songs I love......Look, I'm not gonna apologize. Yes, this IS unironic enjoyment. Yes, I stopped caring about the hate for jokey entries a long time ago (after our lords and saviors, Subwoolfer, came tenth). They are but a minority. Their words don't hurt me. I don't even care what's wrong or right. It's how I live my life. In the end, Eurovision needs entries like this. However, I do understand why you'd prefer "Europapa" from the Netherlands. Most people seem to like that one more, but....I personally like this one more. (And it's not Finland bias. I'm TRYING not to develop Finland bias, I swear!) The soaring chorus, the great vocals, the delicious 90s nostalgia, "See if I care, see me slay", "Let's go! NO RULES!", the flipping key change....It's a song about not caring what others think, and it brings out that attitude in me too. It makes me smile and turn my brain off, shutting out the ridicule of others. Yeah, it's silly, but I'm allowed to love it. Altho I do apologize to the "Euro Neuro" guy for breaking his one rule...but now, there are NO RULES!

And here are my four borderline favorites:

8. Germany - "Always On The Run" by Isaak

Now....when I call San Marino or Australia underdogs, I do so because no one else seems to care about them. No one really hates them, it's just that Eurofans just generally dismiss and ignore them. When I call Finland underdogs, I mean that in the "divisive" way, in that, yes, there ARE plenty of fans of them, but also a lot of haters as well, enough to balance it out and feel like you HAVE to take a side. When I call Germany underdogs....I mean THAT in the most traditional sense. Germany are THE underdogs this year. Why? Because almost everyone HATES THEM for some reason! Or at least dislikes them in some way! And I DON'T! GET! IT! At all! Like....the way people talk about this song, they make it sound like this song is the type of boring that loops around into annoying and pisses you off, like...it's not just boring, but actively mediocre, like..."not even trying" levels of boring. They make it sound like this song is the new "Boys Do Cry", and.....then I listen to it, and.....I-I'm sorry, but what is everyone on about...? I....don't find this song boring? I even...like it! This is one of the songs I've listened to the most, believe it or not! I legit don't understand the hate! This is a GOOD SONG! It's not amazing or anything, but it's legit good! It's got a beat, a catchy chorus, he has a great voice, and....the bridge of this song is AWESOME! Maybe I'm just a sucker for the punchy percussive stuff ("Some Nights" by Fun comes to mind), and this is kinda the only song this year that scratches that particular itch for me, but....c'mon, the BRIDGE! Ugh! *sigh* Y-yeah, I don't get it.....This is one case where I feel really confused by a song's reception. I get it for Finland and San Marino, but....The fact that this song gets bashed on for being bland and "generic" while it sounds like nothing else this year baffles me. Whatever. Not the first time I've rooted for an unpopular German entry. Favorite auto-qualifier, that's all. Moving on.

9. Latvia - "Hollow" by Dons

Yet another underdog, but this one's a lot more understandable. It's a ballad. From Latvia. Of course no one's gonna pay attention. And I'm fully expecting this to not gain any traction, but....I dunno, I just....like it! This is the most I've enjoyed a song from Latvia since.....2016, I think (which was also the last time they qualified....*cough*)! And I don't really have a good reason for liking it, other than.....I like his voice, and I like the chorus. That's about it. I like me a big chorus that can get caught in my head at times. It's just a good melody. That's the main reason I like this song more than France's (unlike most people). It's got a melody that I can latch onto. That's what makes a ballad for me. It's gotta have more things of interest than just "listen to how good my voice is". Melody, lyrics, and buildup are all important to me...Sadly, this song doesn't build that much, but blegh, they weren't gonna beat Belgium in that category anyway. For what it is - a good yet standard ballad - I really like it.

10. Italy - "La Noia" by Angelina Mango

This song is a lot of fun, and the way the verses flow is really satisfying for some reason. I love how it changes things up. It doesn't stagnate at any point. The instrumentation is also really unique and cool, and her voice is pretty. The acapella part is just long enough to show off her voice without overstaying its welcome. Oh yeah, and it's catchy! Overall.....yeah, it's a good song, and a fan-favorite for a reason. I would personally love to see Croatia or Switzerland win, but I could easily see this winning due to its universal appeal. It's got stuff that both votes will enjoy....pretty much equally, I'd say! This year is SUUUUCH a close race, that I really do think this song has a real chance of being the next "Arcade" - a song that doesn't win either vote, but finishes in the top three of both, and that combined score causes a win. It could happen! And I wouldn't really complain, cuz....yeah, I think this song would be a worthy winner! (All three would be worthy winners, honestly. God this year's so tough to call)

11. Austria - "We Will Rave" by Kaleen

I didn't really think this song would end up ranking this high for a while, but on repeated listens, it ended up growing on me just....SO much! Once I stopped comparing it to Lithuania's song, I ended up liking it more. This song might be a bit dated, but coming from someone who likes Finland this year, I welcome that dated sound! As long as it's fun, right? And yeah, I've never been to a rave, but this song SOUNDS like a rave. Even I can tell that! The breaks are great, and the fact that this is literally a song about partying the pain away fits its energy so flipping well. Here's hoping for a fun dance break to go with it!

And finally, some brief honorable mentions:

-Norway. Was originally gonna go in 11th before changing my mind at the last second. I still really like this song. I think it's really cool! It's just stagnated a bit for me as I've been listening to other stuff! -Switzerland. I respect the heck outta this song for how it blends so many genres together and still sounds good. I also really love the lyrics, and how its about their personal journey of learning to accept their identity. I really do think this would be a great winner. I just, personally, have other songs I like more. -Cyprus. I have no real reason as to way I like this song so much, I just....do. I like how much of a punch it packs. This is probably the closest I have to a "guilty pleasure" this year. I do wish that we'd stop sending minors to Eurovision, tho....It's so much pressure...Yes, I know the minimum age is 16, and teenagers HAVE performed well before, but....I dunno, I think adults would perform better? But, eh, not my place... -Estonia. Really really fun and stuff. Makes me smile. The parts with the deep-voiced guy really stick out. That's about it. -Ireland. I respect this song more than I like it. I actually don't listen to it that often. The reason I'm giving it an honorable mention is cuz, despite that, I actually really really REALLY want this to qualify. This has more life and character than all Irish entries since Jedward. I know a lotta people are gonna hate this song for being jarring, but that's the reason why I'm shouting it out. It's a risk. And I want Ireland to be rewarded for taking that risk.

[tvwriteups]

Watching these ESC live performances and music videos without having listened to all the songs first...

Belgium

Party song...but stays at the same speed the whole way through so it becomes boring after a minute.

Ukraine

Okay song. Kind of interested what the staging will look like on a larger scale if they opt to do that.

Albania

You could tell it's the Albanian entry from the first few notes. Hmm, intergenerational song.

Norway

I know I'm just four songs in but there's something about the chorus of these songs that simply does not stand out. At least it went by fast, I guess. And the direction matched the music pretty well.

Spain

LOL, if I heard this before the Albanian song I'd have guessed from the first few notes that it was the Albanian entry. I don't care for the song but appreciate it being send to the ESC. It is staged very well. Interested in seeing how well this does with the ESC audience.

Slovenia

The camerawork is making me dizzy. And I am bored.

Latvia

Latvia being a little weird and experimental again. At least unlike the other songs it changes it up, I guess.

Romania

WTF? Has this been in English the whole time or did it .... oh, it switches back and forth. Okay tune, I guess.

Croatia

Okay, it just gets weirder. Except maybe this is too weird. I'm just assuming this is making a statement in Croatian that I simply cannot understand the nuances of but feels like that Mel Brooks school of making something seem utterly ridiculous as a way of criticizing it.

Denmark

I know I am a much older adult and everything but this kind of takes all the things I find boring about music from the last couple of years and puts them into a song. The repetition in this song is nauseating to me.

Malta

As I was saying with the previous song... Though this is the sort of thing you'd expect from Moldova. Yeah, this is Malta sending a Moldovan-style song.

Estonia

10-second gimmick. Hate to say it but boring ballad.

Lithuania

The beginning piano riff is that stand-out part of the song. Hmm, nice build and then ... the arrangement/orchestration is a bit too wildly different for me that it feels like it becomes a different song for the chorus. Actually listening to it more and I'm not sure if's the arrangement or the lighting in the staging being a bit too much the first time around.

Italy

As someone who found out how much she got seriously fucked over by a couple of Italians and a Greek in the past year I cannot judge this song or the Greek one all that fairly this year. But even just listening to this I am bored in addition to feelings of rage.

Finland

...which makes this beat from Finland perfect for my rage monster. I am all down for this WTF-ery. This is one of those "All in and never stop" kind of numbers. It's the only way it can work. For some reason it turns into something somewhat melodic and...loses something. It needs to go harder at the end.

San Marino

The sound on this is terrible. I like to think I have the most forgiving audio setup at home too. (I am watching this on my surround sound system.) Bored again. It sucks that I kind of have expectations now for a San Marino entry.

Poland

Honestly don't care for it. Blank girl-power, I-don't-need-you song.

France

Not sure dance beats really work with just a singular person at a microphone. The staging for the build isn't enough. Tempted to call it kind of "Gaga-esque" because I want to say "cabaret."

Czech Republic

Harder to judge music videos. Would really be interested in how this would be staged.

YouTube is feeding me Disney+, St Jude, and outdoorsy, and firearms-related ads like I am going out hunting. Like who else is using my YouTube?

Australia

More of that trendy sound that I'm tired of. Poor use of "oh oh"s. Like if you're going to use them, make them catchy. This is kind of all over the place.

Netherlands

Starting emo. This feels like a "real song" if you know what I mean. Man-woman duet = the least successful kind of ESC song. Now I'm curious how I would've felt about this song if I did the whole "just listen" thing I had been doing the previous years.

...

Don't feel like hunting down the other countries even though I know there are clips out there. Just gonna wait for them to appear on the official channel. (Yeah, I'm talking Cyprus, Germany, and Ireland.)

...

I kind of believe that anything could work as long as your staging is really good. I don't really know what I'd vote for in this batch of songs though. Kind of weird when I actually can vote this year.

[georgiaheartsdilfs]

→ only you elijah m x f!reader

my masterlist ↪M A S T E R L I S T

prompt ↪ Elijah and You are soulmates, you did everything together depsite you being human. It's been years since you've seen him due to the fact that he and his siblings had parts of the hollow in them to save Hope, Marcel had compelled him to forget everything a start new. You thought you'd never see him again until Klaus needs your help to save him.

"he can only remember you, only you"

warnings / other notes ↪gray line means change of scenery

y/n? is this still your number

yes klaus, it is, why would i need to

change it

i need your help with elijah. i thought he doesn't know who we are he doesn't, but every time i mention your name his face, he's still in there

klaus it's been years since he's seen me what makes you think seeing me would help?

i just have a feeling, meet me at the airport, we're going to france, now. terminal 5.

France, I had always wanted to go there. Especially with Elijah, he had promised we'd go there together one time obviously before the hollow had happened.

Walking into the airport it was busy, crowded. I felt out of place, everyone here was alive and sure I was too quite literally but I felt dead. Everything in my life has changed, especially after the Mikaelsons left my life.

Klaus's message had slightly surprised me, I didn't expect him to message me ever but a small part of me wanted him to message me on updates of his brother, hence why i kept it.

I asked around for terminal 5 it took a while before someone agreed to help me, the kind man lead me straight to the terminal and there he stood in all his glory.

Gripping my bags tightly "y/n" he nods "klaus" I say clearing my throat as he hands my ticket "you left your passport at my house the last time you were here" he says handing it to me.

"given that i got that for you bunch i doubted that i'd need it again" I mumble and I check in, the flight was in an hour or two so I sat down.

"what's your plan, what do i do huh?" I ask Klaus who stood in front of me "for him to see your face" Klaus says "and?" I say waiting for him to carry on with some long yet somehow convincing plan.

"it's that simple" he shrugs, I stand up "you expect me to walk to wherever he is and say hi and then he'll remember me, Marcel's compulsion is stronger than yours, I just broke out of yours, Elijah is strong but... he doesn't even know he's elijah" I say sitting back down.

"besides its been seven years and you haven't aged" I say "you have" he says "thanks" I roll my eyes burying my face into my hands.

"you think it'll work" I ask looking up through my fingers "you wouldn't be here if I didn't think it would work" he says "what about kol and rebekah?" I ask him.

"i know where they are, I can easily talk to them it's just elijah he doesn't remember any of us" Klaus sighs looking down shaking his head "not even you?" I ask and he nods.

"well this won't work" I say and he sits down next to me "when have my plans failed" he asks turning his head to look at me "never" I mumble "so why doubt this one, trust me y/n" he says placing a hand on my shoulder.

"i know you're anxious, as am i but i trust this will work just as much as any other plan" he says and I nod.

An hour passes and we board the flight, Klaus was sat next to me in first class "how have you been?" he asks and I shrug "i've been me without elijah, boring, dull and its been tedious" I mumble and he nods "and you? have you called hope?" I ask and he nods.

"well no actually, Hayley calls me I've been busy on a world tour" he smiles looking down "the missing bodies around the world" I presume it was him, not that anybody would snitch on him because he knows everything.

He nods "but i'm ok now, Caroline uh talked to me" he says and I smirk "Caroline?" I say and he nods "Yeah uh she interrupted a little visit of mine to the royalty of De Rue" he says "oh?" I say and he nods.

Walking out of the airport I look around "it's so beautiful, i'm glad he chose to run away here" I smile sweetly, the scenery was beautiful and I had only been here for a few minutes.

"do you know where he is?" I ask turning my head to look at Klaus who was already walking, I run up to him "yes i do know, i've been watching him for the past seven years" Klaus says hurrying me along shoving me into a car before turning it on.

"what makes you think he would remember me?" I ask him for the millionth time, I really wasn't able to wrap my head around the fact I was seeing him again.

Was I prepared? Certainly not. Was I excited? Of course I was.

It's just I was afraid that if I did see him, he wouldn't remember me, remember the promises he made not only to me but to Hope of his return, of the recovery of his memory.

"you're nervous aren't you?" he mumbled gripping the steering wheel "don't be, I have complete faith in this plan" he says turning a corner "you have faith." I scoff looking out the window "yes I do" he says.

"hypothetically if he didn't remember" I pause "what would happen then, I was just a means to an end, to get Elijah back so?" I question him "I wouldn't ditch you, y/n. I made you a promise and I plan on keeping it, for the time being you can help me" he says and I nod reluctantly.

Klaus pulls over in front of a bar, a bar wasn't Elijah's scene unless it were Rousseaus with his family. I suppose it made even more sense since he wasn't Elijah "he doesn't know his name" Klaus says getting out as do i.

"he doesn't know anything about himself except he can play piano" I say walking into the bar, welcomed by the sweet melodies on the piano.

There he was, playing the piano. His fingers pressing on each key majestically, the sound just as magical as his movements. I admire him walking over to the bar ordering a drink.

"come on" Klaus grabs my hand "I need a drink" I mumble looking away from Elijah as the bartender hands a glass, I place my hand over my forehead from the forthcoming headache.

The man I had loved my whole miserable life, was sat less than four meters away playing an instrument that was once the key to my heart.

Klaus lets go of my hand sitting next to me, it was all going to fast. A little preparation would have been fine, but no. Klaus messages me, we go on a plane and here we are.

I drink the rest of the drink before taking a quick glance at Elijah whose sight still hasn't left the sheet music as he read it with ease, fingers continuing to replicate the sheet music on the piano.

Hopping out of my seat I jump up and down, everyone in the bar giving me weird looks except for Klaus who wasn't phased with this side of me.

"if it goes wrong" I whisper "it will be okay" I mumble straightening up my hair, my clothes down to my socks and readjusting my jewellery before grabbing Klaus, dragging him along with me.

We sit at the empty table next to Elijah and I tap him gently on the shoulder clearing my throat sticking my hand out "Hi, I'm Y/n" I smile and Klaus gives me a weird face, Elijah turns to me. My heart beats rapidly, Would he remember me?

"Hi Y/n, Uh I am E" he smiles shaking my hand, everything around us turning to blood, the flowers dead "I'll be outside" Klaus clears his throat and I nod "Yeah" I mumble dropping my handbag on the floor.

Elijah removes his hand from mine "How long have you been playing here?" I ask him politely folding one leg over the other to prevent the anxious shaking.

"for a long as i can remember" he chuckles lightly taking a break from the piano and I nod "oh nice" I smile sweetly staring into his eyes, remembering every sweet moment that happened less than a decade ago.

The man I knew was in there, just not talking to me.

"you're first time in France?" he asks and I look around clicking my tongue, the roses slowly coming back to life meaning Klaus had disappeared "uh yeah actually, I had planned to move here with an old boyfriend his name, his nickname actually was Sentimental Fool" I chuckle and he smiles looking down "do you have anyone?" I ask him

and he points to the lady at the bar.

"Actually, Antoinette over there is my fiancé" my heart shattered, in the time it took for him to get engaged I had gotten nowhere in life.

"How sweet" I clear my throat and he waves to her as she waves back "what's it like here?" I ask him, my finger begins to gently tap on the table impatiently.

It had now just hit me, he didn't remember me. Decades of memories were wiped with a few simple words, yet my face wasn't able to bring him back.

"it's amazing, you can never get sick of the night sky" he nods "what did you say your name was?" he asks, a moment of hope flew straight into my body to my heart.

"Y/n" I smile "Oh I knew someone with that name" shattered, my heart fell on the floor into a billion pieces yet again. All hope was lost, if he didn't remember me, I don't even know who I am.

"What was she like?" I ask him "I don't remember much, she must've been a good person if I remember her name" he chuckles lightly "obviously not good enough if she can't make you remember her" I whisper.

"I uh better get going" I smile gently once more taking him in before grabbing my bag and getting up, pulling my phone out to message Klaus.

he didn't remember me let's go

read 4:14

I looked over to the lucky woman who he calls fiancé smiling at her as she walks into the backroom, the door handle twisting the lock shut.

Walking towards the exit I smile to Elijah "Bye E" I smile "Bye y/n" He says slowly and I turn around grabbing the door handle, taking a deep breath in before twisting the door handle accepting that I was no longer apart of his life.

"wait" Elijah says running over grabbing my arm, he spins me around placing his hands on my cheek "you're getting married what are you doing?" I ask "Sentimental Fool, you never called me that in your long life" he chuckled softly "I did with Klaus" I mumble, slowly realising the words that had just come out of his mouth.

Before he said anything else I kissed him, the relief in my body had sunk in and all the broken pieces restored.

His thumb running along my cheek as the door swings open to reveal Klaus standing there "so he doesn't remember you and he still kisses you" he says confused and Elijah steps back wiping his lip laughing.

He looks at his brother, a smile creeping on his face as he opens his arms widely pulling Klaus in for a hug as Klaus stands there awkwardly taking it in.

"You didn't creep anything in his drink did you?" Klaus asks, Antoinette still not out of the backroom.

Elijah pulls away from his younger brother looking between he and I, "Who is she?" Klaus asks pointing at me "the love of my long, long life." he smile staring at me "and him?" I ask pointing at Klaus.

"Niklaus" he says "So she gets a great nickname after seven years, you've seen me every month and all I get is Niklaus" Klaus pouts, Antoinette walking out to Elijah who stares at her awkwardly "You know your Fiancé" I ask he and she nods.

"Is not him?" I say and she looks at me "This is E" she smiles patting his chest "Lijah, Elijah" I mumble pointing at him "No it's not" she smiles innocently.

"I know you" Klaus says pointing at her "I can't quite remember when" he says and Elijah looks at me awkwardly and then down at her "Fiancé, meet wife" Elijah says introducing Antoinette to me.

"make it awkward" Klaus says walking out, Antoinette steps back "Wife?" she says offended, she seemed like a lovely woman. A vampire woman but a lovely one nonetheless, I wouldn't be surprised if she was using Elijah as revenge on Klaus.

"Was gonna be" I mumble tapping my foot on the ground, this conversation was definitely awkward now.

It took a while for Elijah and I to explain it to Antoinette but after a while I gave up and walked out waiting for Elijah to explain the rest. Klaus was leaning against the wall smirking at me and I sigh rolling my eyes at the fact this plan actually worked, like many of his other plans. "what did I say, y/n?" he asks "that he can remember me, only me" I mumble in defeat.

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE THIRTEEN || TOMORROW

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi  kugisaki nobara (mention of gojo satoru + todo aoi) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of death/passing + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 16 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.0k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : to you, someday 

↳ next episode : kyoto sister school exchange event - group battle 0 

↳ barista’s notes : GUYS WE ARE AT THE END OF THE TRAINING/VS MAHITO ARC FINALLY!!!! AND NEXT EPISODE IS THE KYOTO EXCHANGE ARC!!!!!  ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ so before we move on to that, there is a little wholesome episode since i wanted to give you guys a little break of Y/N’s pain because you all deserve it and i also might be planning more.....OTHER THAN THAT, i hope you enjoy today’s episode and i can’t wait for you all to see the next one ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode..

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“You know...It’s better to show yourselves than rather hide from me Fushiguro, Kugisaki,” you firmly mentioned before slowly turning your head to the side, quickly noticing the tense nature of the two classmates hiding behind a tree and some bushes before they hesitantly made their way out of their hiding place causing them to reveal themselves and to discover a nonchalant look displayed on your face.

‘Like what the hell, if you’re going to hide maybe hide your cursed energy while you’re at it’

“Did you both follow me here? You guys are such drags and stalkers, you know that is really creepy right?” you questioned both of them with an assumed tone before placing the bouquet of blue hydrangeas and white roses against the tomb, covering the last name on the engraved stone in case Kugisaki was going to come closer to you.

“Ah sorry,” Kugisaki apologies before placing her hands together in a ‘please forgive me’ position while Fushiguro just looked off to the side as if he could just avoid your glance to not feel embarrassed about getting caught.

Letting out an airy laugh, you turned back to the stone in front of you leading to your small smile to instantly turn back into a straight line as you glared at the incense’s smoke that was dancing in the air while your hand hesitantly went to the side of your neck.

‘It’s just a dream...It’s just a dream…’

“Does your neck hurt again? I suggest you stop sleeping under the tree if it does,” Fushiguro commented, causing you to jolt in surprised as you didn’t realise that he was now suddenly next to you rather than a few steps away to which could be said the same for Kugisaki, who was standing on the other side of you while looking at the tombstone that all three of you were now standing in front of.

“Hey! You didn’t answer my first question, did you both follow me here?” you asked once again with a teasing tone, causing both of your classmates to look to the side away from you since they instantly knew there was no way out of this little situation...it’s no surprise since you are Gojo’s adoptive daughter.

“It was Kugisaki’s idea to follow you since you disappear from time to time,” the shikigami sorcerer outed, as he placed a hand on the back of his neck to ease his bashfulness while Kugisaki turned her head towards him, ready to yell and counter his statement.

“Fushiguro is lying, it was his idea!” Kugisaki shouted in annoyance, causing your eyes to shift back and forward between them as you were somewhat finding slight amusement on what was going on at this current moment in time.

“Ah~ is that so?” you questioned, while slowly raising your hands to smack the back of their heads without them noticing causing both of your classmates to groan in pain once they felt the violent impact, before holding the back of their heads to ease the pain that was somehow intensifying - to be honest, they deserved it for trying to stalk you.

“Who are you visiting?” Fushiguro curiously asked with a hesitant tone since he didn’t want to accidentally cross the line on your comfort zone leading you to turn to him for a second before looking at the stone with a hint of heartache forming in your eyes as well as your heart.

“My mother,” you softly answered, leading your classmates to turn to you with widened eyes before looking at the stone showcasing where your mother was resting as a feeling of sympathy began to consume their whole body.

“I really don’t need your pity guys, it’s been 6 years already, so it’s not necessary,” you mentioned before they could give their condolences to you. You didn’t need it or rather, you didn’t want to hear any of it. When your mother passed away, you were used to the fact that you were the only one grieving since it was always just you and her in your own little world, there was no one giving you their condolences then and you didn’t want them now. It was already too late for that.

“So your real mother actually passed away, is that why Gojo-sensei adopted you?” Kugisaki asked, leading you and Fushiguro to slightly tense as you both were reminded of the fact that the ‘adoption’ story was just a (somewhat) clever cover-up to conceal your true identity as well as to not raise any suspicion on your sudden enrolment to Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

“Yeah, he found me a year after and took me in,” you lied through your teeth, hoping that you were convincing enough to continue the lie leading your friend to nod her head, as she continued to gaze at your mother’s resting place.

“What was she like?” Fushiguro suddenly asked as he was trying to divert the conversation into a different topic leading you to open your mouth to answer before closing it again to tilted your head to the side slightly as you began to wonder all the things you could say to Fushiguro and Kugisaki to inform them about the person that brought you into the world.

“She was someone that I could only forgive if she did something wrong,” you quietly answered before mentally wondering if that was the right thing to say. 

“She was someone that was quite selfless, even if that meant sacrificing her whole happiness to make someone else happy, that was the type of person she was,” you extended, trying to ignore the first comment you made since you were still wary of what you had just stated.

Fushiguro and Kugisaki hummed absentmindedly as they listened to your answer as they continued to peer at the stone that was in front of them like it was a painting of the Mona Lisa at the Louvre Museum in Paris, France.

“You know, it isn’t a painting to admire, right? There’s nothing special about a grave,” you questioned causing your classmates to break out from their daze to look at you before becoming flushed again since they didn’t realise that they were gawking. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing,” you commented before letting out another airy laugh as you processed to turn your heels and began to walk away from your mother’s resting place to the exit of the cemetery leading Fushiguro and Kugisaki to look at your direction in confusion before making their way towards you.

“Since you guys followed me all the way here, what do you want to do?” you asked, once they both caught up to you leading Kugisaki to answer immediately about the fact that you both needed to go to the bubble tea shop that you both went to the other day since she was craving it again leading to the erratic-haired sorcerer to groan slightly since he wasn’t in the mood to get anything sweet which caused you to explain that the shop also had black coffee if he wasn’t feeling the sugary drink.

“Are you the type to drink black coffee to impress a girl even though you don’t like it? That isn’t healthy Fushiguro, you shouldn’t do that to impress Gojo,” Kugisaki commented with a hint of worry since she didn’t expect the shikigami user to be the type to do what she has assumed. However, this seemed to annoy Fushiguro more as you discovered the irked mark on his forehead before answering that he always drank black coffee - to be honest, that statement made you remember the time you and Gojo had coffee together and you were disgusted about the number of sugar cubes he added into the caffeinated drink.

“I’m surprised you're not getting any orange juice,” Fushiguro mentioned, leading Kugisaki to widen her eyes in surprise since she hasn’t noticed you drinking your favourite juice for the whole day at all.

“I don’t know if you’re extremely bad stalkers or you lost me during your following session, but I have one here,” you stated in a matter-of-fact tone, as you dug into the pocket of your Jujutsu Tech uniform skirt to pull out a carton of orange juice leading your fellow sorcerers to look at the drink in shock since they didn’t remember you buying anything at all when they were following you.

“HOW?!” Kugisaki yelled out in complete surprise as she grabbed the boxed drink from your grasp while staring at it like it was a curse to be exorcised leading to the feeling of amusement to rise again since the situation was becoming funnier by the second rather than sorrowful like it was supposed to be today.

“I bought it at the vending machine just a few minutes away from this cemetery, maybe you two were arguing or something,” you commented with a small smile as you did recall hearing two people shouting at each other from a distance when you were collecting your drink from the dispenser - it was something like ‘this is really a stupid idea’ followed by ‘but we need to figure out where Gojo goes when she disappears, I want to knowwww’.

“You guys are such drag, so you better pay for my drink for me to forgive you both for stalking me,” you voiced out with a smirk planted on your face causing Fushiguro to look at you with widen eyes since he wasn’t expecting any consequences when it came to Kugisaki’s little investigation.

“Hold up, but don’t you have more money than us because you take on more missions? How much do you have Gojo?!” Kugisaki questioned as she moaned at the fact that she was going to pay you rather than spending that money on the Balenciaga jacket that she was hoping to get.

“That’s why I paid for your drink last time, so it’s your turn don’t you think?” you asked before continuing with, “think of it as a ‘thank you’ gift to me for the fact that I trained you both for the past two months,” leading both of the sorcerers besides you to quickly realise that paying for your drink might not be as bad as they expected - two months of training in exchange for paying your bubble tea, they didn’t mind that exchange at all.

“Ah alright, Kugisaki let’s go half and half,” Fushiguro stated causing the female sorcerer to nod as she gave you back your orange juice before linking your arm with hers due to the fact, she was more excited about spending the day with you for an extra day of the week rather than going back to Jujutsu Tech to do nothing.

“I just realised, the Kyoto Exchange Event is tomorrow isn’t it?” you asked before looking up to the sky as you began to recall what date it was today. However, it seemed like you were more concentrated on your feeling of relief as you noticed a few clouds moving across the sky rather than the one you could remember… you were reassured that it wasn’t just a solid blue that was above you right now.

“Yeah, and we are going to beat their asses!” Kugisaki cheered determinedly, leading you to giggle at her enthusiasm since she seemed motivated to win the whole event altogether.

“Do you think you’ll be picked for the individual battle?” Fushiguro questioned, causing you to shift your head towards him as you began to wonder if there was a possibility of you being chosen. From what you knew, Todo Aoi seemed to be the strongest sorcerer on the Kyoto side and had the highest chance of being picked for the second day of the Kyoto Exchange Event.

Although, it seemed like you didn’t have an answer to provide for the shikigami sorcerer leading you to raise your hand to quickly flick his forehead, catching him by surprise since it was one of your lighter ones. “I have no idea, you drag~” you answered, before placing your hand in your pocket.

“But one thing I do know is that we’re going to win the team's battle,” you mentioned with a courageous smile. You were confident since both Fushiguro and Kugisaki have improved so much during the past two months - much more than you had anticipated due to the short amount of time you three had to prepare for it.

Fushiguro and Kugisaki nodded boldly at your statement as it seemed like your confidence and determination had affected them as well.

Tomorrow, you all were going to win.

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 02  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00   01

⇢ Word Count : 

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots. 

A missed call from your uncle. 

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb.  She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong. 

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at  Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

 “You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’.  As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a  little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.” 

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “  You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. 

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead.  A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door.  You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

[dragon-kazansky]

Made with love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader!

Collage by @realremyd

[Next chapter]

Part 1

You had always wanted to travel through Europe. You wanted to see those streets at least once in your life. Meet the people, attention the languages, taste the food, and maybe even do a little shopping in certain cities.

Your friend, Wanda Maximoff, came from a rather unknown country called Sokovia. When you had told her about your trip, she had brought it up. She hadn't been back home since she left, but she remembered it well. She suggested some places to go if you ever stopped by. You made a mental note to drop by her home country for her sake.

Sokovia was a declining country. It had its fair share of issues and problems, but it was still out there waiting to be discovered. The least you could do was visit on your travels.

You had passed through Spain and France, spent a few extra days in Gemany, stopping by the Netherlands to see Amsterdam. You have lost count of the photos you had taken in Austria, and it was as your stay in Poland was coming to an end when you remembered about Sokovia. The other countries you had planned to pass through would have to wait. You spent your last night Poland planning the flyover to Sokovia, luckily finding a flight that will take you to the capital.

In your pocket you kept the list of places Wanda and suggested, her hoping most of them were still there. You would of course take pictures for her.

The plane landed and you exited the airport. You wanted to see the city. A cab station near by grabbed your attention, so you hurried over. You asked the driver of the nearest cab to drop you off in the city centre. He did.

Looking around Novi Grad, you were taken in. The city was old. People were going about their business, but some even turned to smile at you as you walked along. You took in the area, admiring the buildings and the people. You were impressed and in awe with the city.

You keep an eye out for somewhere to stay, checking Wanda's list as you go incase you spot one of the places on it.

You're not sure how long you have been strolling the streets when something catches your eye. It's not a very big building, but it stands out. A restaurant. A Spanish restaurant. You smile. Spain was one of your first stops when you got to Europe, the food was one of your favourite parts.

You realise just how hungry you are. You hadn't eaten anything since before your flight. The door is open and it looks like a good place to stop.

You look up at the sign as you get closer to it. Gold letters on a purple background. There was something elegant about it.

Escorpión Morado

You look at your list quickly. It's on there. Purple Scorpion. Wanda knew about this place. You put away the list, grab your camera, and stand far enough away to get a shot of the exterior. You smile at the outcome.

Outside there were a few tables. Four, to be exact. They had a nice view of the courtyard just in front of the restaurant. The entrance was two narrow double doors, opened wide to let air into the shop, and allowing easy access for the customers to come and go. The shop being on the corner of the street allowed a view on either side theiugh the large windows. On each window was the name of the restaurant in faint lettering. You could see inside, but decided you could admire it better by going in.

Entering the restaurant, you were welcomed with a certain warmth. It wasn't too busy, but there was still several people here, enjoying themselves. You took a picture of the inside.

The inside was nice and open, plenty of room to move around. A bar was situated at the far end, a couple of people sitting at it. You walked over the polished floor and made your way to the back. You pick a stool and sit down, looking up at the menu. There were plenty of options.

"What can I get for you?" A voice asks, coming over to you. You turn your head to see who was speaking, your voice suddenly doesn't want to work.

The man comes to stop in front of you. Brown hair swept to the side, dark brown eyes, sparkling with amusement, a smile tugging at his lips. His shirt sleeves were pushed back up to his elbows, and apron was around his waist. He had very clearly just been in the kitchen.

He tilts his head to the side slightly. You had yet to answer him.

"Are you alright?" He asks. "English?"

Oh, he thought you didn't understand.

"Um, yes. I speak English. I'm sorry, I'm fine," you feel embarrassed, shuffling on the stool slightly.

"That's alright. What can I get for you?" He asks, offering a friendly smile.

You glance up at the menu again. "What do you reccomend?"

As you glance back, you see his smile widen. You had eaten tapas while you were in Spain, but you found yourself wanting to hear him speak again. There was something about his accent that was satisfying.

"Since I haven't see you around here before, I'll make a special for you. How does that sound?"

"That sounds lovely, thank you."

He smiles and leaves you to go and make it himself. You look around the restaurant again while you wait.

On the wall just off to the side, there was a plaque. You get up and walk over to it, wanting to read what was on it. There was a photo above the plaque that caught your attention first. An older gentleman, dressed smartly and looking proud. You read the plaque to find out who he is.

Or was.

Heinrich Zemo

Founder of Escorpión Morado.

He died a few years ago, leaving the restaurant to his son, Helmut Zemo. There was no photo of his son, but you assumed he was here somewhere.

Actually, looking at the photo, you could awe some semblance with the man who had served you. Was he the owner?

You look at the plaque once more before going back sit down. The atmosphere in here was nice. You could see yourself coming here every day just to pass time. It certainly seemed like a favourite spot for these people.

You smiled as you glanced over the few people gathered here. A couple by the window, just looking out at people passing by. A man sitting at the bar talking to one of the staff members, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. There were a couple of families taking up tables here and there.

It was very relaxing here.

You turn back around when the man returns, he puts the dish down in front of you and smiles. It looks delicious, just like the one you had back in Spain.

He stands there as you take your first bite.

You stop and look at him as soon as the food touches your tongue. It's amazing. You smile as you eat it, nodding at him, impressed.

"This is the best tapas I've ever eaten."

He looks really pleased with himself.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, especially since I was Spain not that long ago." You go for another bite.

"A traveller?"

"Yeah. I always wanted to see Europe, so I've been saving like crazy and here I am."

He leans against the counter, seemingly interested in this information. You're not complaining, he is definitely attractive company.

"And you found yourself here of all places."

"I have a friend who comes from Sokovia. She had mentioned it to me before I left for my trip, the least I could do was come and see," you told him, still enjoying your meal.

"Sokovia isn't exactly a popular destination, but I welcome you all the same. I also welcome you to my restaurant."

"Ah, so you are Helmut Zemo? I was reading the plaque over there," you said, nodding over at the wall.

"The one and only. Do I get the honour of your name?"

"So you ask all your customers for their names?" You ask, smiling at him.

"Only the really interesting ones."

"Interesting? I've been here all of five minutes. What makes you think I'm interesting?"

"When you work in a business like this, you get to know who is interesting or not. It comes with the territory. Also, moat of my customers are locals, so anyone from outside the country has to be interesting in some way," he crosses his arms and looks at you smugly.

"I see," you chuckle.

"Is that a no, then?"

"Y/N. My name is Y/N," you reply rather bashful.

"Y/N, lovely."

The way he says it with his accent makes a shiver run down your spine. You had a sudden need for him to say it again, but you also had to remember to be a normal human being who isn't going to freak out the lovely man they just met.

"Your meal is on the house."

You look up at him sharply.

"Oh no, please let me pay," you say urgently.

He shakes his head.

"No, this one is free. Only this one."

"You say that as if you know I'm going to come back," you look at him with a narrowed gaze.

"I trust that you will," he smirks.

"Why?"

"Well, you ate everything, complimented both my food and establishment, and I'm far too interesting, myself, for you only to come by once."

You laugh softly, shaking your head at him. His eyes lit up at the sound.

"Insufferable," you say, sliding off the stool.

"I'm aware, you get used to it."

You smile as you make sure you don't leave any of your belongings behind and thank him for the delicious food.

"Come again," he says.

"I'll think about it."

You leave, knowing he was smiling as you left the building. You make your way across the square, resisting looking back through the window to see if he was still there.

You pull out your phone and bring up a map. You needed to find somewhere to stay for a few nights. You didn't have to look far. There was a small hotel up ahead and around the corner. You decided to try there.

Finding it wasn't too hard. You only had to go down a small backstreet. It was out of the way and hidden, a nice peaceful place to stay for a while.

You enter. The lobby wasn't too big and it was nice and quiet. The building was old, but the inside seemed well looked after.

You walk over to the desk and smile at the man sitting there.

"Hello."

He smiles, "hello."

He spoke English too. That was good. Your Sokovian was... nonexistent.

"I would like a room for a few nights."

He nods and opens a big book information front of him. He grabs a pen and flicks through room numbers.

"How long are you staying?"

"Three nights? Yeah, three should do." You still had countries to check off your list.

He nods and asks you to sign the book. While you do so he grabs a key from the wall behind him. You pass him the book back and take the key.

"Enjoy your stay."

You nod and take the stairs up. Your room was nice. Big enough for one person and on the main street side, where you came up to get here. You could just about see the square from the window.

You sat on the bed. Perfect. There was a TV, but something told you it would be Sokovian television. Maybe you could watch it just for the sake of it.

You lay back on the bed and took our your phone, calling Wanda.

She picked up almost immediately.

"Y/N, where are you?"

You smile, "Sokovia. You were right, Wanda, it's very pretty here."

You hear her little gasp down the phone.

"You're actually there? You're making me homesick now."

You chuckle softly.

"I'm sorry, Wanda. It's a beautiful city though. I even stopped off at one of the restaurants you listed."

"You did? Which one?"

"Escorpión Morado."

"Escorpión Morado? Oh my gosh! It's still there? Did you meet Heinrich? I remember him being so wonderful to his customers."

"Actually, Wanda, Heinrich passed away a few years ago. His son runs it now, but I guess you could say I did technically meet the owner."

"My heart is saddened to hear of his loss. I do vaguely remember his son. Though back then he worked in the kitchen and very rarely came out."

"Helmut is rather lovely. He stayed and talked to me while I ate."

"Is he cute?"

You roll your eyes at her question.

"He might be," you chuckle.

"Perhaps a romance will spark and you'll be left heartbroken because you'll have to come back here and maybe never see him again. I'll be here watching you drink wine straight from the bottle and gobble down ice cream because you're utterly in love with this man you met once while travelling."

"Wanda, I need you to stop watching those chick flick movies and come back to the real world. I'm not going to fall in love with him. His food, however, is to die for."

"Oh, you're in love with the food. Spain exists, you know."

"I know, I was there, remember? Kind of missing the sun, if I'm being honest, but my God Wanda, this man can cook."

"Marry that man, Y/N. He can cook."

"Wanda, shut up," you laugh with her down the phone.

"Never. Enjoy your time in my home country, Y/N. It honestly means the world to me that you're there."

"In taking photos, don't worry! I'll be home soon, Wanda. See you."

You end the call.

You drop your phone on the bed beside you and stare up at the ceiling. So far you really liked Sokovia, very different from places you had been to so far.

You smile as you think about Helmut. He was certainly the most memorable part of your stay here so far.

Maybe you would visit him again tomorrow.

For the food, obviously.

@namethathasnotbeentaken @belle82devart @cathrin2405 @lieutenantn @wilder-fangirl @latenightartist-author @lucky-luck-lucky @hb8301 @charistory @thatoneartgalsstuff @thesuitkovian @malkaviangirl @zemosimp420 @realremyd @the-chaotic-cow @lostghostgirl94 @zafiro-draco @lazygurl05 @pinkcutiepiee @goddessofmischief03 @whovianayesha @myybebe @awesomesauce-abbie @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @zemo-is-my-muse @nonamec0s

[brlankinney]

✨a long awaited michael hate list✨

last year during the first lockdown i decided to rewatch queer as folk again after a few years break from the show. michael has always been one of my least favourite characters and i just needed to rant about how annoying he is, so i have compiled a list of his worst moments. you’re welcome. i wrote all these in my notes app while watching and you will get them without any editing whatsoever. in chronological order: 

s01e03 when justin turns up at woodys to find brian and michael yells at brian because he doesn’t want to babysit. while justin is talking to debbie!!! justin is just a young gay teen trying to fit in and michael is go angy? fuck off you piece of shit 

s01e04 “this is about brian’s one night stand!” / “not just one” / “don’t bet on it”...... my dude.... my good dude michael..... i am pretty sure justin knows more about his own sex life than you do

s01e04 “unfortunately not this one” referring to justin when they were talking about the high suicide rates with gay teens.... michael was so jealous of a guy who had sex with brian that he was annoyed that he wasn’t feeling suicidal? cant relate 

s01e10 when justin moved in at debbie’s place, getting michael’s old bedroom. why was he so annoyed? you’re a grown man, just turned 30 and that bedroom still has all your childhood things in it? grow the fuck up you childish man baby!!!!! 

s01e17? when david and michael held the fundraiser for that senator and michael purposely didn’t invite any of his friends/family because he found them “embarrassing”, then porceeded to yell at his mum when they showed up anyway. the entire storyline of him feeling like he was sooo much better than all of them because he had been to france and got expensive stuff from david? horrible horrible man 

s02e06 saying the only reason brian spends time with justin is because he feels guilty that justin was attacked. it’s almost like he doesn’t know his best friend? what a surprise!!! 

s02e12? getting angry that brian and ben fucked at the white party long before michael even knew ben? brian had sex with everybody how did michael expect to find someone who hadnt fucked brian already? and why are you angry over your partner’s sexual history from before you even knew them? 

s03e01 getting angry at justin for breaking up with brian (which is what he wanted to happen since fucking day 1) and then telling him that he isn’t part of the friendgroup anymore, as if they only tolerated him as long as he was with brian. fuck youuuuuu!!!!! honestly just the ENTIRE episode? upset that justin came to mel and lindsay’s party and that he brought ethan? it’s not your party! you don’t decide who is invited! SAYING BRIAN SHOULD HAVE LEFT JUSTIN DYING ON THE GROUND? literally just scum of the earth!! even if it was just because he was upset on brian’s behalf that should have never even crossed his mind!!!! 

s03e04, he knew what kind of father brian was to gus so why was he so angry at the way melanie and lindsay wanted him to be a father to their next child? he would be the sperm donor and the child’s dad but he wouldn’t be part of the kid’s life more than brian was in gus’ life? how is that so hard to get? it’s not YOUR child? get your own if you want to be an actual dad???? 

s03e07? getting so pissed that ben didn’t want to include him in his HIV-positive life that he “threatened” to infect himself? show some support for your boyfriend instead maybe? what kind of weird move is it to almost stab yourself with a used needle? i totally get what he was trying to do but it’s a fucked up way of going about it 

s03e08, while i dont completely agree with ben taking in hunter from the start and letting him spend the night (which probably has more to do with me being a woman who would have trouble defending herself in case anything should happen), the way michael acted as if hunter didn’t deserve any compassion was.. really bad? he even rolled his eyes when ben gave hunter money and a contact number for them that he could keep. hunter was a CHILD on the street, selling his body for money!!! how are you not more concerned!!!

bouncing off of that s03e10 why is michael getting angry that ben wants to care for this child!! he was in the fucking hospital and i get that now it’s a money problem but you are not listening to your partner? you are talking over him and not trying to come up with another solution to help care for this child!!!! i am FURIOUS 

s04e08 convincing justin that they shouldnt mention to brian that they were aware that he had cancer and had the sugery, but then breaking down the first chance he gets and crying to brian about it? first of, this is NOT about you michael so sit your ass down!! and second of, i get that he was scared of losing brian but at least give justin a heads up that he told brian?? that’s the absolute least he could have done 

THE ENTIRE FIFTH SEASON!!!! michael needed to SHUT UP about melanie and lindsay’s relationship problems in relation to jr because guess what? you’re not the primary parent, this doesn’t concern you! you were the sperm donor who was lucky enough to still be called the dad and be part of jr’s life!!!! shut up about how the baby lives in a broken home and how you want the baby? she’s not yours!!!!!! what is your PROBLEM!!! i will fist fight you

both him and debbie kept saying “whatever goes on between you [mel and linds] it doesn’t matter, the baby comes first”. don’t you think parents living seperately are better than parents living together but fighing all the time? the entire thing makes me so ANGRY 

i MEAN the way michael thinks he is entitled to all information about lindsay and melanie’s relationship just because he was the sperm donor to their baby? insanity 

“why won’t you let me have her?” GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP MICHAEL 

s05e04 i get that michael might have been embarassed at the “housewarming” gift that brian got them and also at the word choices that brian makes but come on? monty and whoever started out by insulting not only the way brian chooses to live his own life but also his business? it’s a civil conversation and yeah brian could have used less harsh words but brian’s lifestyle isn’t new to other people? not even people outside of his small social group? let him live his own life and also let him defend his choices

e05e07 like i get it okay? brian came in late at night and shouted and blamed michael for his and justin’s breakup so of course michael would be annoyed but the way he said “he [justin] left because of YOU. who wouldn’t?” was completely uncalled for? it just really fucking bugs me? this is your best friend who is CLEARLY going through a bad breakup so maybe choose your words more carefully? MAYBE have some compassion just maybe? 

when hunter left in season 5 and michael said “who else would have taken him in? made him family?” WHY WOULD YOU EVER SAY THAT ABOUT YOUR CHILD!!! WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT michael really thinks he is the absolute shit and deserves the world for doing the smallest thing? 

going through the show again really just fleshed out how fucking bad of a person he could be from time to time wow whats YOUR worst michael moment????

[moonbeamwritings]

one missed call

Summary: You were haunted by what happened in Egypt. The loss of your friends and the disconnect from the others that came in the years afterwards weighed heavily on your mind. One night, after a horrible day at work, you find that you received a voicemail from someone you never thought you’d hear from again: Jotaro Kujo.

Author’s Note: This is a little different from what I normally post. A little less fluff, a little more angst. There are very brief mentions of blood, but they’re vague. Let me know what you think!

The second you stepped through your apartment door and closed it, you slumped back with a sigh. “Worst day ever,” you spoke aloud. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag, you collapsed onto your couch, relishing in the silence of your living room.

This time of year was always… difficult, to say the least. Not only were the holidays beyond stressful in and of themselves, but you were reminded, more so than any other time of year, of the loss of your dear friends.

Every night over the past week had graced you with images of gore, the rush of blood and water, and the whirring screech of an ambulance coupled with the muffled voices of Speedwagon Foundation medics, their hushed conversations blaring in your ears despite their quiet tones.

“Noriaki Kakyoin. Time of death approximately-”

You shook the thought from your head, feeling all the more sick to your stomach. Your day at work hadn’t been easy given your current state, but your boss refused reason, seemingly working you harder knowing that you were suffering. You were tired, in more ways than one.

You flicked the television on and disappeared down the hallway. If I’m gonna be upset, you thought, I might as well be comfortable. Tugging a warm, soft sweater over your head and a pair of sweatpants up your legs, you were ready to tackle whatever horrible tv show was on and whatever leftovers you had in the fridge.

You reheated some take-out you’d had over the weekend and dropped back onto the couch, mind slowly shutting down at the sight of a brainless, campy reality tv show on one of the stations. Perfect.

Your position on the couch gave you a clear view of your phone, resting on a small table across the room.

Blink blink. Blink blink.

The green answering machine light was on, which almost never happened. Nobody calls me, you thought curiously. You muted the tv and made your way over to the phone, a funny feeling bubbling in your stomach.

Clicking play, you felt your heart stop in your chest, completely ceasing to beat as it knocked the air from your lungs.

“Hi,” a deep, smooth voice spoke through the phone, “This is Jotaro Kujo. I hope I’ve reached the right number.”

Your mouth fell open as you heard him. It was really him. You hadn’t spoken to Jotaro since you last saw him at the airport in Egypt, 10 years ago. You would scoff if you didn’t miss him so damn much. Back then, he’d looked at you like he had something to say, but it seemed as though he opted to bite his tongue. When Polnareff had pulled you all into a group hug before returning to France, you had a sinking feeling in your chest. DIO had been defeated, sure, but something still didn’t seem right.

You moved on, as they all seemed to. You returned home, you went back to some semblance of normalcy despite the nightmares, the loneliness. You had half a mind to be pissed, to ignore the phone call and to kick Jotaro out of your life for good, dealing with the spiraling thoughts all on your own. You couldn’t do it anymore, though, and that’s what compelled you to hang on to his every word.

“I, um-” There was a pregnant pause, almost so long that you had assumed he hung up, “I hope you’re doing well.” He let out a short laugh. There was no joy in it. “Well, as good as you can be, I guess.”

“I wanted to call to apologize. Leaving you in the dark for so long, letting you live with the grief all on your own, knowing that I was going through the same things. It never sat well with me. The old man said that just telling you what’s been going through my head might help, even if you tell me to fuck off. I know my emotions are nowhere near as obvious as I think they are.”

You felt your heart start to beat again, slowly going faster and faster until it was little more than hammering in your chest.

“Yare yare daze, I guess I just-” Jotaro cut himself off again, a creak in a chair sounded in the background, “I couldn’t handle it. I know it’s a pathetic excuse and I know you must be angry with me. You might not even listen to this message. I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t.”

How could I not, you thought in silent response.

“I just couldn’t bring myself to reach out, well, until now. You reminded me of everything I felt like I couldn’t have, what I can’t have.”

You found your brows creasing in confusion.

“I was in love with you back then.” Another mirthless laugh, a beat of silence. “I guess I still am. That’s why I called. Look, I’m sorry for going radio silent, for not reaching out… for everything. I was afraid and I felt like I didn’t deserve you.”

Hot, wet tears began racing down your cheeks and you had to place a hand over your mouth to stifle a sob. You closed your eyes as the message played on.

“I don’t deserve you. I’m being selfish, but I can’t do this anymore. I need to see you, if you’ll have me.” The call fell silent again and you could swear you heard Jotaro let out a soft sound, a sniffle followed by a clearing of his throat. When he returned to the phone, you could hear the emotion in his voice.

“I’m sorry. If you get this, give me a call. Bye.”

With the click of the phone, your living room was plunged into silence, save for the sound of your soft cries. You furiously wiped at your tears as they fell, walking back to sit down on the couch to will your heart to just slow down, if only for a minute.

Your mind was reeling, sending your whole world spiraling upside down. All over just one phone call.

He’d been in love with you? Then, and even now?

It was hard to believe, which made the whole situation that much worse. Why now? Why in this way? Had he, too, been thinking about that fateful trip to Egypt all those years ago? Was November and December just as difficult for him as it was for you?

It was painful, dealing with endless thoughts all while fat, salty tears raced down your face, dampening the sleeves of your sweater with every swipe at your eyes. You leaned back against the armrest, losing yourself in the nonexistent patterns decorating your ceiling.

Thinking back now, perhaps all this time spent with no word from him was so upsetting all because you were in love with him. How stupid, you blubbered, to be thrust into such an emotional upheaval all over a boy you’d fallen in love with at 17. It’s not fair.

He hadn’t even called, or tried to. He had ten years to do so and clearly he knew someone who could connect him to you. You rolled your eyes at the thought of the Speedwagon Foundation’s involvement in all of this. It was frustrating, racing back and forth between anger, sadness, and elation.

You resolved to deal with this mess tomorrow. Maybe sleep will help, you thought as you tucked yourself into bed, eager to shut your eyes.

Sleep did not come so easily because of course it didn’t. Echoes of his words rattled in your mind, playing on a loop as if to torment you, to make your nights even more sleepless. 

Before you knew it, the sun was up.

As if to give you some sort of reprieve, you were off from work. A small treat from the universe to say, you can rest, just this once.

You practically dragged your body down the hallway, eyes stinging with a lack of sleep and unshed tears. With breakfast sorted, you sat down to listen to the voicemail again. You weren’t sure if you were just trying to make yourself more upset or if the warm, orange glow of the sun shining through your blinds would bring you some form of clarity.

The second time through did little else but convince you that you needed to talk to Jotaro, no matter how painful it may end up being.

With a shaking hand, you reached out to dial his number, taking each digit slowly as a way to delay the inevitable. The line began to ring and you could almost feel your mouth running dry, the thudding of your heart threatening to burst your chest open. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to keep the water in your eyes from spilling over.

After four rings, you could hear Jotaro answer, “Hello?”

The ringing in your ears, the pounding in your heart, they didn’t stop with the sound of his voice.

“Uh hi, Jotaro? It’s me.”

[kingstylesdaily]

Playtime With Harry Styles

via vogue.com

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[palmett-hoes]

i said in this post that i have original characters and backstories for neil's extended family. it took me,, a really long time to write it all down. it's been a full month since the original post, and this is still just a run through of things, not full prose, which i might be interested in doing one day but not anytime soon

now, some things to note about what i'm writing, why, and how. methodology, basically. this might not have come through yet in my posts, because i just don't post about my half-finished ideas, but i research a LOT. i like to base what i write about on real life, even if it's just headcanons and fanfic

also, i love helping people with research, so if anyone wants help with research for a fic or just their personal headcanons or anything hit me up!!

as a white person who wants to write characters from different ethnic backgrounds, i feel i have a responsibility to really do my due diligence and research as much as possible to consider things from every angle. and part of that for me is making sure that every character of color has a backstory. they don't just appear somewhere, i have to give them a reason for being there and a story for how they got there, even if that's not what i write their STORY about. people, come from places, basically. i follow a lot of demographic census information and population averages, as well as a lot of history, from as general as transatlantic trade in the last 500 years to as specific as the changes in a single city in a certain year

talking to other writers in the fandom i know i'm a little overzealous, but this is what gives me peace of mind to feel like i am putting the effort in to get things right

so anyway, as for what that means here:

i like writing neil as mixed black/jewish. it works well thematically for his character, as well as just what FEELS right for how i visualize him in my head

only, that can't simply come from nowhere. we know who his parents are. they need to also be poc for neil to be one, and they're a complicated pair to handle in that lens

one choice i made about that, for multiple reasons, is that everything about neil's parents' backgrounds should mirror each other. it can't simply be that one if them is black and one is jewish, or even that mary is both and nathan is white, because that says something i don't want to say any way you slice it. additionally, i want both facets of his ethnicity to be important to neil, and i feel as though he would want to ignore the half of himself from his father.

so: they both have to be mixed, giving them a sort of,, ideological equal footing, as it were. that way, i can also write three different experiences, rather than accidentally implying that This is what being black is, or This is what being jewish is, or This is what being mixed is. and that's also important to me, even if it's just in my head or not even directly addressed. it's still a big consideration of mine anytime i write about any of them

now, finally, onto mary and nathan! i'll put it below a cut because this is already long enough, the under-the-cut is much longer, and i don't want to wear out your thumbs if you don't care

mary hatford

canon timeline, neil was born in 1988. as a tentative number let's say mary was around 30 when he was born, meaning she would be born in the 50s. say her parents were roughly the same age, so they were born around the 20s

like i said, what's happening where in history is very important to me for building these backstories, and major historical events tend to have a lot of influence on population shifts. and well,, jews and europeans in the early-to-mid 20th century? there's no getting around involving world war II. nothing explicit, but it is mentioned and part of the story

mary’s paternal family are the hatfords. they're from the british west indies, largely jamaica, but they've been involved with shipping and trade all over the trans-atlantic region for generations.

they have a complicated relationship with the british empire, having both worked for them and against them at various points, sometimes both at once. similarly, they've tried multiple times through the generations to relocate the family to england permanently, but have been turned away or pressured out

they associate england and the british empire with power, and they both disagree with and desire that power in degrees which vary person to person. they do have a general idea between them though that living in england is a sign of status and authenticity, and while they don't want to leave jamaica permanently they do want their center of power to be in england, and there is a deep resentment against the anglos for not allowing them to stay permanently despite their wealth and influence, the fact that their work will always be looked down on and seen as lesser

i did come into building the hatfords with the primary idea of them being black british, and looking into the organized crime connection second. them being jamaican/west indies is a reference to the jamaican posse, who have a large presence in the london crime scene, although that's really the only connection. the hatfords aren't really yardies in any sense

the hatfords' status as organized crime is a little iffy. mostly they skirt the line between legal and illegal, owning legal trading companies and doing plenty of legal shipping. their main business in the criminal underworld is being middlemen moving supplies for other groups. they have a lot of contacts, and they serve an invaluable role in international smuggling, but they rarely get their own hands dirty. they move things from one place to the other and don't question too much what it is, though they don't deal in people

mary's father is named samuel hatford (first name in reference to samuel bellamy, the gentleman pirate king of the early 18th century). he was born in England, raised largely in Jamaica, then moved back to England as a teenager/young man. he's light-hearted and a bit idealistic for someone from a crime family, seeing the best in people even when they're cold and often believing in principle over profit, which at times put him in conflict with what's best for business

he almost enlisted in world war II, but instead convinced the family to work as weapons and supplies runners supporting the Allies and guerilla resistance groups

mary's mother is named cima ben nahman (ladino/judeo-spanish/sephardic names, doesn't really reference anything or anyone in particular). She's is an algerian jew. Born in algeria (city undecided, though algiers had the largest jewish community at the time), she moved to france for a few years as a young woman, probably for education. she joined anti-fascist organizations which became resistance groups once germany invaded

she's stoic, and has a ruthless mind for strategy. like most algerian jews, she's caught between her home country and its colonizer. the french empire played the algerian muslim majority against the jewish minority as a way to create infighting and distract the algerians from uniting and turning against them, but the algerian jews also then became reliant on the french for protection. (it's a really, really complicated situation)

cima sort of hates them both, both algeria and france. her only allegiance is to being jewish

(contrast this to samuel, who feels that he is BOTH british and caribbean, even when those two identities may be in conflict)

cima and samuel met when samuel provided weapons and supplies to cima's militia group. he took particular interest in them and went out of his way to help, above and beyond the other groups the hatfords were supplying

in the waning period of the war, cima was seriously injured, i'm currently thinking a land mine accident. she survived, but her recovery was slow. she lost an arm and had burns across half her torso, neck, and face. samuel brought her to england supported her through her recovery. in the hospital, they spoke a lot about why they each chose to fight, and the ways they did because neither were formal soldiers fighting for a country. samuel was in many ways fighting for an ideal, while cima was fighting for her people. cima also talked to him a lot about judaism and religion during this time, which samuel took an interest in. eventually, cima decided to stay

they got married. samuel converted, which was somewhat controversial with his family. however, cima agreed to join the family business, where she became an integral but sometimes ruthless member. after algerian independence, she brought some of her trusted family and community into the fold as well, some moving to england and others to france

both cima and samuel believed very heavily in responsibility, though what it meant for each of them was different. cima believed in preparedness and follow-through, samuel believed in family and protection, doing what's right outside of the bounds of the law. this contributed a lot to how they raised their children

when they were born, mary and stuart were raised in england (and i like to think they have an oldest brother). the hatfords were a big family, and influential, although careful about balancing the legal and less-legal sides of their business. the ben nahmans were smaller, and most of them were in france so mary and her brothers saw them less often. they were raised very religiously and culturally jewish, though close with the caribbean side of their family too, as well as being the first generation who were born and raised in england. this put them at a cross-section of three very different cultures, and was where mary first learned about changing and blending in with different groups

mary was the youngest and a little bit spoiled by her father, aunties, and uncles. her mother however was much less tolerant of her. clearly very affected by her time in the war, cima became extremely distrustful and suspicious, and tried to instill in her children a similar sentiment of secrecy and self-sufficiency, avoiding attention and casual relationships. she could be harsh on them, especially mary, who was the most resistant to this

growing up, mary was irresponsible and fun-loving, goading her brothers and cousins, getting in trouble, and starting fights. she didn't understand the tenuous balance of being organized crime, and at times put the whole family at risk by overestimating their sway. her mistakes affected the whole family but it was usually her mother who confronted her about them first and most harshly

she resented her mother's control, and didn't understand the reasons behind it. she also couldn't differentiate between the boundaries her mother sets as a result of her own trauma, and the necessary boundaries she set for the safety of the family, viewing them as one and the same, and leading her to hate any kind of control exerted over her

really, a lot of cima's character is just who mary ends up becoming after being married to nathan and being on the run. i like the story of a child becoming the parent they once hated. rather than learn from her mother, both her failures and her successes, mary becomes her, doomed to make the same mistakes. this is also why cima is wounded by a landmine, because mary dies in fire

---

nathan wesninski

nathan was HARD to come up with a story for, mostly because,,, WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS GUY WORK FOR THE JAPANESE YAKUZA

wesninski is a VERY polish name. the japanese-polish connection is,, not super strong

so anyway, working off the idea of the wesninski family being a polish jewish one, WHERE is he going to meet a japanese crimelord to get into a multi-generation debt/business arrangement with?

turns out, the answer is brazil

brazil actually has a large jewish population (roughly 10th largest in the world). it began with its colonization by the portuguese, but the 19th century to modern population largely comes from central and eastern europe. brazil ALSO has the largest japanese population outside of japan

also this story ended up being WAY more detailed and prosaic than samuel&cima's story, which is basically just bullet points. there's no reason for this i love both stories very much just for some reason the words flowed for me here and not there

to avoid having a second jewish story where wwII is prominent, the wesninskis get a page out of my own family's book: nathan's grandfather (neil's great grandfather) came to the americas fleeing the russian pograms around the turn of the 20th century

so

Wesninski came to brazil (city undecided, have a lot more research to do about individual cities in brazil). he had waardenburg syndrome(a hereditary genetic condition that can affect eyes and hearing) which runs very strongly in his family (his son, nathan, and neil will all inherit it), and he is completely Deaf. while he came to brazil alone, in his new home he connected both with the local jewish community and the local deaf community, and eventually marries another Deaf Jewish woman

eventually they were able to establish a kosher deli and restaurant in the city, one which became a common hangout for the Deaf community. then one day (probably around 1915), a group of japanese men came in, and kept returning

these were the moriyamas, recently arrived from japan, in a place with very few japanese people and businesses. they liked the wesninski deli because they didn't share a language with anyone in there, couldn't even be heard by most of them, and it would also be difficult for the authorities to question them. two layers of protection for a crime family in a vulnerable place

wesninski and the moriyamas were amicable to each other, but as they didn't actually have a way to communicate that was the extent of it. but the moriyamas were polite and payed well and didn't bother the other customers. als, as a jewish establishment, they had a lot of education resources, which were helpful to the moriyamas in learning about brazilian society, including beginning to understand portuguese

now, in japan, the moriyamas were a small yakuza family. they got driven out by their bigger and stronger and more established competition around the time when japanese immigration to brazil was just starting, so that was where they went. though they had little option in where they ended up, they also had little competition in establishing their business

i still have a lot of research to do about the moriyamas. about both how the yakuza operate and about how brazilian organized crime works, and about life in brazil for early japanese immigrants. so a lot of the moriyama details are pretty vague

now the wesninskis had a son, meyer (nathan's father. name in reference to meyer lansky, famous american jewish mobster of polish descent) who was around 14 when the moriyamas arrived. he himself was not fully deaf like his parents, though was hard of hearing and raised in the Deaf community. as he goes through his rebellious teenage years, well, the gangsters are right there

in the early days the moriyamas were still more concerned with mostly the japanese enclaves, but they had aspirations of expanding. meyer wasn't japanese, but he was helpful to the moriyamas who came into the deli to study. he was perceptive and bold, could keep a secret, knew his way around knives from working in the deli, and knew the city. he was a good asset to them, and he was interested in causing some trouble

over the next ten years or so, meyer got increasingly more involved, alongside the moriyamas becoming increasingly more established throughout the city. he goes from someone who helps out occasionally and relays information beyween parties to getting involved with minor shakedowns, bribery, evidence disposal. by the time he's in his 20s he's thoroughly enmeshed

his parents were older when they had him, and his father died relatively young, leaving meyer the store and his mother to take care of. they were vaguely aware of his connections to the moriyamas and didn't approve of what he did with them but he also kept the worst from them, and was always a diligent son, and the only one they had. he assured them no matter how far he went that he wasn't "really" part of the gang

"yakuza have tattoos, and see, ima? no tattoos. i'm still a good jewish son, not a gangster"

now the problem arises when meyer falls for camara da machado, a young Deaf woman who frequents the store

(based on/inspired by/FC yaya dacosta (where the name comes from) and rutina wesley)

she was a Deaf girl born to a hearing family who struggled to give her the support she needed, maybe even just a single mother, and she'd spent a lot of time alone at the deli from a young age (12-ish?). she was shy and quiet and a little bit of a shrinking violet, but the wesninskis became very fond of her. she started tentatively helping them out around the store which became a job. she was often included in family meals and holidays, and always had a bed in their apartment above the deli if she needed one, and more than once had helped patch meyer up after he got in trouble to hide the extent of it from his parents

she was a couple years younger than him but he'd always been sweet on her. and she'd had a crush on him from basically the moment she'd layed eyes on him. they'd known each for years and camara was basically family, and then one day when they were both in their 20s it just suddenly clicked for them

so meyer and camara fell in love. meyer was head of the house, had to keep the deli running, and had his mother, camara, and possibly camara's mother (undecided at this juncture) to worry about and he decided he didn't want to continue working with the moriyamas in case it dragged his family into danger. being a gangster was a fling of youth and he was ready to grow up

when he informed the moriyamas of this though, they,,, did not agree.

while MEYER might not have considered himself part of the gang, THEY didn't think he just got to walk away. he'd worked with them for too long and knew too much. there might even have been a desire to tie him to the family permanently through marriage. and well,, one man against a growing criminal empire can't do much

it was a huge shock to him, and made him truly realize how naive and reckless he'd been. he'd been a dumb kid who wanted to start some trouble, the moriyamas were career criminals. they expected that once you were in, you were in for life, and they did not take kindly to meyer disagreeing with this

he didn't know how to explain this to his family... so he didn't. they'd all told him they wanted him to stop, but he'd meant for the announcement to be a surprise. after learning that he would not be permitted to walk away, he chose to just hide it and continue with business as usual

it worked for a while, maybe a few years, a time during which the moriyamas were getting a lot more brutal as they got more established and increasingly looked to expand, putting them in competition with other gangs and greater law enforcement, until they were a true crime empire spread across whole regions of the country. meyer had lost a lot of esteem in their eyes by asking to leave, leading them to put him under increasing scrutiny and giving him more incriminating tasks, to ensure that he would be incriminated if he ever tried to turn them in. it's during this time that he first had to kill for them

then camara got pregnant

and meyer was terrified. he didn't know how the moriyamas would deal with a kid. the only marriages and children he knew of within the family were endorsed by the boss, many arranged by him, and he knew his wouldn't be approved. yakuza wives were heavily involved with the business too, and he absolutely did not want that for camara

he broke down and told her everything. she's horrified, and furious that he kept it from her, but she didn't want to give up her baby. it would be hard, but she believed they can keep it hidden, and if the moriyamas found out, maybe it wouln't be so bad?

(spoiler: it would)

they have a son, born natan da machado, under his mother's name

meyer and camara never got married. meyer was going to propose after he left the moriyamas but that obviously didn't happen. marriages were supposed to be blessed by the boss, and meyer never dared to ask. they already lived together, anyway

but with natan, they decided that meyer couldn't acknowledge him as his own. in the deli or in the streets, he didn't acknowledge natan. he was camara's bastard son, and meyer didn't want anything to do with him

it was a flimsy disguise at best. natan was mixed, but there was a strong enough resemblance to his father. even if his hair was a darker red or he had brown skin, they had the same eyes

they tried to keep him away from the moriyamas as he grew up, hoping they wouldn't see him and make the connection, but they also kept him very hidden in general, just in case. he spent a lot of time inside, with his grandmothers

and that was how natan grew up, feeling like a secret, his father cold and distant, only acknowledging him in their apartment. cut off from other kids his age. a hearing boy in a Deaf family (natan himself was HoH but still had most of his hearing. meyer and his maternal grandmother could both hear, but they had gotten out of the habit of it and mostly communicated through sign)

natan developed a deep feeling of resentment towards his father and shame about himself from a young age. he felt like a mistake, defective somehow. so wrong he had to be hidden away from everyone

there's only so long that you can hide a child, though, and when natan was around ten the moriyamas found out about him, and they were not happy.

they didn't like split attention or loyalty. they kept children and family under very tight wraps. they should be one hundred percent enmeshed in the moriyama empire, raised to be loyal and helpful in whatever way they were needed. the fact that meyer wanted and was willing to leave for this family, and then hid his son, was a huge betrayal

still, they gave him an opportunity to prove his loyalty: kill camara or the moriyamas would kill them all: her, natan, meyer, and both their mothers

but meyer couldn't do it, and instead he told camara to run and hope they didn't actually care enough to chase her down. and she did. and she couldn't take natan with her. (i haven't fully fleshed out why yet, currently thinking that meyer was given this ultimatium when they already had natan)

so camara left her son, and got away

i built the story of mary's mother as a reflection of mary's story if something had been different, and i built nathan's story the same way. his wife takes her son and runs away with him when the moriyamas try to take him from her. nathan's mother was in the same situation and left him behind

over the next forty years of his belonging to the moriyamas he gets to marinate in that resentment. from the father that ignored to the mother who ran away from him, he internalizes it as being something wrong with him, not the circumstances. the more he's taught to torture and kill and the more he excels at it, the more this belief gets cemented. he's good at killing, he was meant to kill. he's twisted and broken and wrong inside and he always was and his parents always knew

and then when it happens again but differently this time he throws away a decade and millions of dollars and his standing with his boss to hunt down his son and his wife because he didn't get to run away so why should they? why does mary love nathaniel more than camara loved natan?

from here, the exact detail's of nathan's story aren't quite solidified. whether he was raised by his father from then on or by his grandmothers (or whether his grandmothers left with his mother) or whether the moriyamas put him somewhere else entirely, but from then on he lived under the moriyamas' direct supervision, and they taught him how to turn a knife on a man

they took his mother's name from him, though, so he's natan wesninski, not natan da machado, because they own the wesninskis now

and when the moriyamas decided to expand beyond brazil when natan was a young man instead of a child, and settled on the east coast of the US, they renamed him nathan, because it sounded more "american"

---

so that's it. obviously there are still a lot of unfinished details in both stories, but they're strong enough at this point to stand on their own and i haven't changed or rethought a lot of the major details in a long time

i've become extremely attached to these OCs and their stories, and i hope they interest other people too. some day i'd like to write them out in prose properly, along with the story of nathan and mary meeting, but that'll be a while away considering the pace i move at

so until then i just wanted to put this out there

[midnight-in-town]

Hello Midnight! Your cats are so cute, what are their names? Thank you for sharing 💕

Hello Anon! Oh wow, thank you. <3 I’ll tell them, haha! 

I got both from the same benevolent association, which I thank for their highly dedicated work towards all the animals in need, as well as for keeping in touch with the animals’ owners, after adoption.

This below is Rény.

I got her last August, so it’s been almost a year and she’s a year and a few months old (no one is sure of when she’s born exactly, but probably around March 2020). <3 

As you can see, she’s a one-eyed, because of hardcore cat flu when she was a baby living in Guadeloupe’s streets with her mom and brothers. When I first got her after she arrived in Paris’ region and was taken care of by her second foster family, she looked all weak and sickly, having had to take lots of antibiotics after her eye surgery and barely being able to eat.

Because of this, she’s very sensitive when it comes to food and she was very sick last October, until I managed to find what food she could tolerate. 

Now she’s an adult and she’s doing mostly okay. Sometimes her valid eye gets sick, so I have to be extra careful with plants or when she’s playing with the kitten. Also she’s got an eating disorder, because she had trouble being able to eat enough when she was a sick kitten (that’s why she’s so petite), so now she’s constantly scared not to have enough food. 

The other day, as I was checking for when to get her shots done this year, I found some written words by the first foster family that took her in from the streets and gave her that lovely name, saying stuff about how she went through a lot and clearly needed time to get close to humans, but she was super sweet and never aggressive, so they hoped someone would give her a chance and adopt her.

Never had these issues myself, because her two foster families took good care of her and taught her to trust in humans, buuut I’m biased because I’m clearly the only person she currently responds to (she’s very vocal and affectionate). We were very close very fast when I got her, which is super nice, but as long as I’m around, she won’t try to open up to other people or animals (literally ignoring them but following me around everywhere), so I decided to take another cat, to help her socialize. 

That’s how I got Siem, who’s almost 5 months old now, in the pictures below.

2021 is a tough year for benevolent animal associations, at least in France, because the number of mom cats giving birth on the streets is very high. So they ended up with idk how many kittens in need of care, as well as finding owners for them and the moms. 

(In fact, if you who’s reading live in France and are interested in adopting a cat or simply helping these associations, I am following several and all of them are drowning in kitten care, so please don’t hesitate to support them! Also if you ever get a cat or a kitten, please remember it’s important to neuter them when they’re old enough, for their health and to control their high reproductive rate.) 

Anyway, Siem is one of these kittens. Her mama gave birth on the cold streets in February 2021 and the lil family was taken in by people who would take care of them. Mama was very scared of humans at first, but the foster family helped a lot (and she recently got adopted too, I was very happy). 

Back then, I had mentioned to the association that I wanted a cat to help Rény socialize while showing interest in some black cats of the same age (because black animals are less adopted than non-black ones, I’m not even kidding) and they asked me if I wanted to take in a kitten, so that Rény would not feel threatened on her territory, since she used to be a bit harassed by her siblings as a sick kitten.

I went to see Siem’s family and ended up choosing her because she was the smallest & youngest one, with very big eyes and short hair, which I found lovely. I named her after Siem Reap, a beautiful city of Cambodia leading to the Angkor temples that I very much enjoyed exploring.

Needless to say, things did not go well at first between them, haha. I mean, poor Rény looked at me as if I had stabbed her, she was shaking so much when I first brought back the kitten at the end of April. But, in comparison to Rény who was a sick kitten, healthy little Siem lived with 4 siblings, her mom and at least another older cat in her foster family, so she knew by heart what socializing meant and playing games around Rény (in the innocent and silly ways kittens live their life) helped them get along after only a few days.

Now they live peaceful days, playing and sleeping with each other. :)) Side note, but if anything Siem is the one who got wilder by being with Rény, instead of Rény opening up to people who are not me. xDDD 

Cannot tell you how many “it’s a bad idea” opinions I heard though, “because Rény is too difficult so she won’t tolerate it, they won’t get along and you’ll be stuck with a second cat”, so much that I ended keeping it a secret from most people and then I sent photos of them getting along to the ones who stomped all over my confidence. :)))

I honestly think people’s prejudice with cats (being selfish, using you, being too independent to be good pets) stand from never owning one and being bitter that they cannot pet other people’s cats. Then again, as my vet says “how would you react if a random dude you didn’t know hugged you in the subway? ». xDDD Personally I can not do a single thing at home without one of them keeping me company (Siem is sleeping next to me as I am writing this), so I really don’t get people’s weird ideas about cats.

Anyway, they’re very cute and I love them! 

Aaaand, I just realized that you only asked for their names.... but I ended up rambling for ten years, sorry Anon! xDD I guess adopting these cats represent the biggest and most independent decisions I took for myself as an adult so far and I will stand proudly by these choices, which is probably why I had a lot to say about them. 

TL;DR If you read this very long post and are interested in adopting an animal on your own, please do so knowing that they will definitely ask you time, money and a lot of patience (especially kittens++++ they do a lot of stupid things and they need time to learn to understand what you allow and what you don’t). Do not adopt animals if you’re not sure you’ll be able to take care of them properly for many years to come. 

Rény, Siem and I wish you a nice day Anon! Take care!

[deja-you]

domestic tranquility

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: a collection of intimate scenes from the L/n Administration, or the ‘what if’ ending to foreign affairs.

word count: 4.3k

author’s note: i hope this makes up for the ending of foreign affairs :) also a special thank you to @astralaffairs​ because she is my inspiration and she took the time to help edit this and i just love her in general

masterlist | foreign affairs

“Lafayette, will you marry me?”

The other line was silent, and you almost thought he had hung up on you.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I must’ve heard you wrong. I could have sworn you just asked me to marry you.”

“I did.”

You could hear him suck in a deep breath. “Chèrie, I don’t understand.”

“Lafayette, I know this is a lot to ask. I’m going to run for president. I’m the perfect candidate, I really am. I’m what America needs right now.”

“Of course you are. Where do I come into this?”

“My staff has run some numbers. I do a lot better in the polls if I’m in a committed relationship. But the problem is, I’m not in a committed relationship.”

“You want to lie to the press and tell them we’re married?”

“I don’t want to lie to them. I’m asking you to marry me. It wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Huh.”

“You can say no. I know this is a lot to ask. It’s crazy, reall—”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Let’s get married.”

Your jaw hung open. “Just like that, you’re on board?”

“You should be president, chèrie. I want to help you any way I can.”

“Are you sure about this? This isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

“Believe me, I’m taking this very seriously. I’m going to get on the next plane to New York. We’ll talk about this in person.”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but you found yourself at a loss for words. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” he repeated. “Let’s get married.”

You were in Iowa.

For some reason you had to come to godforsaken Iowa to become president. You didn’t think about how stupid corn was. You couldn’t think about it, just in case it somehow slipped out and you then alienated all the voters in Iowa. But you really didn’t care.

What you did care about was the sight of your French husband (it still felt strange to call him that) contentedly eating away at a cob of corn. A strange contrast to the sight of him smoking cigarettes and drinking a diabolo menthe at a Parisian café, but he looked just at home at the Iowa State Fair as he did in France.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he gestured for you to join him. Pasting on a smile, you made your way over to him and a series of photographers followed after you.

“Chèrie, have you tried this? It is amazing. This is the best corn I have ever had,” he said, waving around the corn on the cob animatedly while he spoke. The photographers were eating it up, and the corn on the cob vendor was smiling proudly.

You were absolutely bewildered by just how magnetizing he was. People loved him just for eating corn. You couldn’t even blame them, because you knew just how infectious his smile was when he was genuinely happy.

This marked your first official outing as a couple on the campaign trail since you had married Lafayette. If you were honest, you had been nervous about the whole ordeal, but the second Lafayette sent you that easygoing look, you relaxed.

When you were close enough, his hand found yours and he was quick to intertwine your fingers together. This was where the real and unreal collided. His genuine smile and unharnessed affection met your faltering remembrance that this wasn’t the loving marriage it looked like. It was serving its purpose at this exact moment.

You counted each time the camera flashed to take a picture of you and Lafayette walking hand in hand. You could see the headlines on tomorrow’s papers, and you could see Lafayette’s grinning face. A political marriage certainly wasn’t traditional or morally acceptable, but there were real issues that needed to be tackled. You had plans to reform the health care system and the economy. If Lafayette helped you achieve a platform where you could really make a difference, who cared if you bent a few social constructs?

Besides, it gave you the opportunity to reconnect with an old… friend.

“You really like corn?” You asked him quietly.

Lafayette sent a disarming smile to the photographers, and leaned in very closer to whisper in your ear, “I can’t stand corn. Get me out of Iowa.”

You didn’t hide your laugh, and the photographers quickly shot a few more photos of the two of you being a cute couple. Lafayette really didn’t like the corn? You had been so convinced his smile was real. You were beginning to think you couldn’t tell the difference between what was fake and what was real.

There was some kind of external force that wanted you and Lafayette to end up together.

You were sure of this, because you had expelled him from your life multiple times by now. The memory of him leaving you on the sidewalk in D.C. felt like it was just yesterday, but now you were back in his arms. And it felt so natural.

So yes, there was something pulling the two of you together. You didn’t want to call it fate. You didn’t really believe in that. It had to be something stronger. There was something tugging at your heart telling you it was choice, but you didn’t want to believe that, either. Your fingers gripped his suit a little tighter in an attempt to ground yourself.

This was good. This was nice, you thought as you swayed back and forth. There were thousands of eyes trained on you, and millions watching you from home on their TVs. The thought that so many people were watching you right now was daunting, but it was nothing that you weren’t used to at this point. You were the Leader of the Free World. The President of the United States.

You could hear a few cameras click, and you flashed a disarming smile in their direction. A well-known singer was crooning out the words to a slow, melodic version of Stand by Me. Your husband squeezed your hip lightly, causing you to look up at him while he absently swayed with you.

He grinned when you met his gaze and softly whispered, “relax a little. This is your moment. Enjoy it. You’ve earned it.”

Your stiff smile melted into a genuine one and you gave him a small nod. He was right, you did deserve this. The road to the White House had been one paved with blood, sweat, and tears, and you still hadn’t stepped foot in the building yet. A few more balls, and then you could finally move into your new home for the next four to eight years. But you had earned it.

The last year and a half had been the craziest 18 months of your life, and you knew it wasn’t about to get easier anytime soon. But this was good. This was nice. You didn’t have to worry about any political opponents or Supreme Court appointments right now. All you had to do was dance leisurely with your attractive husband.

“What are your thoughts on my seeking out a second term?” you asked quietly on the ride back to the White House.

There were a few more balls that you and Lafayette had attended, staying only long enough to share a dance or two with the press before heading to the next event. It had been a non-stop day; the inaugural address in the morning and the inaugural balls in the evening, and everything in between had successfully worn you thin. Lafayette had been at your side all day, and you could tell that he was exhausted as well.

“Ma chèrie, you were just sworn in. How can you already be thinking about re-election?” Lafayette yawned, slumping back against the seat with his bowtie undone and hanging lazily around his neck.

You laughed softly and shook your head from side to side. “It’s you I’m concerned about.”

“Hm?”

You shifted in your seat to look him in the eye. “You agreed to marry me so I could win the Presidency. I told you that we would only have to stay married while I was in the White House. So what are your thoughts on eight years instead of four?”

“Are you kidding me, Y/n?” Lafayette asked incredulously.

You pursed your lips and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“You’re running for a second term. And I’m going to be by your side through it all. That is, if you still want to be President after dealing with Congress for four years.”

This solicited a laugh from you. He paused before he continued. The pause was the space between you and him, between the Earth and the Sun and everything in between. A hesitancy for the desperation of being wanted and the interval for not knowing if that was what he wanted.

“And of course, if you still want me by your side in four years.”

You tilted your head to the side and smiled at him. “Of course I’ll still want you by my side. We made a promise. For better or for worse.”

Lafayette took your hand in his and raised it to his lips. “For better or for worse.”

Somehow you found the time to sit down and watch a movie in the White House movie theater. 

Lafayette chooses some sort of action movie, you can’t even remember the title of the film and you decide that it’s not important.

You’ve invited some close friends to join you for the night. The Hamiltons (of course), your chief of staff, Nathan Hale, and his partner, and a few other White House senior staffers. All people you would trust with your life and your secrets.

You know Alex’s suspected for a while that you and Lafayette got married for political reasons. He’s a real politician, so he’s one of the few who have actually considered that marriage could be an ambitious political move. A heartless speculation, yes, but he isn’t exactly wrong. You consider that he’s mentioned the idea to Eliza, but you’ve given them no confirmation on the subject.

Nathan knows you better than you know yourself after working for you for all these years. And he knows about your history with Lafayette. He may have been the one to plant the idea in your head of calling Lafayette up before you ran for office, but you’ve never officially explained to him the truth about your relationship. You don’t need to.

The point is, most people in this room know both you and Lafayette completely. And you trust everyone in this room completely. Even if they did find out the truth, it wouldn’t matter. You know your secret would be safe. Knowing all this, you begin to wonder who you’re trying to convince that your marriage is real.

It has to be someone. You’re not throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close for your own benefit. Lafayette isn’t getting you a bag of popcorn and placing a kiss to your cheek for any other reason than because he really wants to sell this marriage. 

You have to be putting on this performance for someone, because if not, that would mean you’re shooting Lafayette loving looks for no other reason except for the fact that you want to. And that can’t be right. Quid est veritas?

You’re given relief from the thoughts turning around and around and around in your head when the lights turn down low. You take your seat beside Lafayette (something in you tells you that your place has always been beside him). The movie starts playing and you relax for the first time since before you were sworn in as president (was that nearly a year ago?). 

You don’t know if it’s because there’s something therapeutic about watching a fictional President having to deal with fictional problems, or if it’s relaxing because Lafayette has pulled you to his side and his hand absently runs through your hair. You decide it’s both.

“Are you tired?” Lafayette whispers in your ear quietly about halfway through the movie.

You are tired, but you insist on whispering back a no. He doesn’t believe you. Lafayette turns his head and presses his forehead against yours. The movie is forgotten in the background, you have his complete attention.

“Close your eyes,” he says softly. “Get some rest. I’ve got you.”

You want to kiss him. You’re so close to him now, all you would have to do is tilt your head just slightly to the right. If you kiss him now, you can say you were just trying to sell the relationship. To the maybe five people in the (dark) room who weren’t even paying attention to you, and even if they were none of them were about to report to the press that they thought your marriage was a sham. It’s not a good excuse, but you’re still considering it.

You don’t consider it any further; you don’t get to. A bit of light comes flooding into the movie theater, and you hear some hushed voices at the entrance.

“Madam President?”

Regretfully, you untangle your limbs from Lafayette’s and sit up. A White House staffer gives you an apologetic look and explains that there’s been a situation. You don’t look back at Lafayette because you know you’d be met with a look of disappointment. Instead, you make a light joke to the audience about never getting a break and they all laugh politely and urge you to go take care of the matter at hand.

You recall the 25th amendment while you’re leaving the theater, and you try to recall what the succession of the presidency really means. What is the Vice President doing tonight? You’re too busy thinking about what it would feel like to have your husband’s arms wrapped around you once more to think about whatever situation had arisen, did that make you unfit for office? Could someone else just take over for one night so you could spend the evening with Lafayette?

“You stayed up?”

You didn’t know what time it was – didn’t need to – but it was late. You had spent the entire day flying back from meetings in Germany, and then more meetings on the plane. You were exhausted, your staff was exhausted, so by the time you got back to the residency you were certain that you were the only one on the planet who was still awake.

“Didn’t want you to be alone.” Lafayette is still awake.

He looks tired, and you know he’s beyond tired. No doubt his schedule has been filled all day, and the both of you have to be up – four hours? That’s hardly enough sleep to function properly. And yet Lafayette has sacrificed his sleep because he didn’t want you to be alone.

Not that you would have been alone. You had planned on entering the residency quietly and sliding into bed beside him after you changed into sweats. You would let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep, and you’d hardly feel alone. But you’d be lying if you said his consciousness wasn’t a comforting presence to you.

“How was Germany?” He yawns.

You’re in a hurry to change out of your suit because the soft comforter of the bed is calling your name. You hardly process his words, murmuring some practiced, diplomatic response. He says he wishes he could’ve come with you, and you tell him you understand why he couldn’t this time. Next time, you say.

“You shouldn’t have stayed up for me,” you tell him once you’re comfortably situated in your favorite pair of sweats.

“For you? I was waiting up for the Vice President. Jay and I had a little rendez-vous planned for tonight, you just got back early.” His grin is tired, but there’s still a playful twinkle in his eye.

You sit beside him on the bed, giving him a little shove and rolling your eyes. “If you had said Secretary Hamilton, I might’ve believed you.”

He leans on you slightly, his head resting on top of yours. “Secretary Hamilton?”

“Mmhmm,” you say quietly. “The two of you have far too much chemistry.”

“Ma chèrie.” He lifts his head off yours just enough to turn to face you, and two of his fingers move your head so you’re facing each other. There’s only one bedside lamp turned on right now, and he’s taking this moment to memorize the lines of your face and the exact shade of your eyes. “You know you’re the only one for me.”

You realize you don’t love him in the way you used to. Not in a bad way, you haven’t stopped loving him. It’s just different this time. It’s honest and real, which is a bit ironic, because the foundations of your marriage were anything but truthful.

You’re polite, so your smile often is fake. He’s real. Right in front of you, right beside you. Every night. There’s something about his mercy and selflessness that you are in love with. He’s teaching you what it really means to be human. Even if you didn’t love him for that, you are so covered in him you wouldn’t know what else to be.

Whatever bravery you had stored up for debating political adversaries or promoting your most radical ideas suddenly possessed you, and you felt yourself leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. In the privacy of your shared residency. With no one around to see.

It’s almost like something breaks in him, if just for a moment. Maybe it’s the sleeplessness that’s slowing eroding away at his brain. Maybe he’s like you, and he’s also been wanting this for longer than he’s willing to admit, but he doesn’t hesitate, he just melts into you.

Your head feels foggy, you can’t really think, all you know is that this feels good. It’s the kind of intoxicating feeling that reminds you of the first time you kissed him, but you remind yourself that nothing is like the first time. You don’t love him in the way you used to. It’s different. Better.

“Don’t run for re-election.”

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks. Well, usually he would, but right now he isn’t looking at you. His eyes are memorizing the stitches on your coat, refusing to look at your eyes or your lips or your hands. You recognized the emotions swirling from his heart up to his lips. Shame.

Lafayette had never been anything but supportive when it came to your political career, so hearing him ask you not to run for re-election was a shocker. He loves supporting you. You know it’s out of a place of deep regret and desperation that Lafayette would ever even broach the subject. But he’s desperate now. You can tell.

You take his face in your hands – reaching out for anything good. You’d like to take the moment to just be here with him, but you’ve never been given enough time for that. It hurts him to look at you, but eventually he does.

“What?” You ask him softly. You know you heard him correctly, but you feel the need to prompt him into an explanation.

“I know it’s not my decision. And if you decide that you are going to run for re-election, we’ll put the matter to rest. We can pretend this conversation never happened,” he says sincerely. Lafayette takes a deep breath as if the next part will be difficult for him to articulate. You know that is. “Don’t run for re-election.”

He’s firmer in his request this time. Yes, the shame is still there, but it’s an underlying tone beneath his pure tenderness.

Lafayette’s never asked much from you. When you asked him to marry you, he hardly asked any questions. You know he would do whatever it is you asked of him at any time, so when he asks you not to run for re-election, you already know your answer without him having to explain himself. If this is what he wants, you’ll do it for him.

But you are still the president of the United States. You have a responsibility to your party, the government, and Americans as a whole. After accomplishing all you have in the last four years, it won’t be easy to walk away from the presidency without a reason. No, you don’t deserve a reason from Lafayette – you don’t even need one, if you are being honest – but you can at least pretend to be hesitant when it comes to leaving the Nation’s highest office.

“Why don’t you want me running for re-election?” you ask.

“Because I love you.” He says it like it’s the most simple and straightforward answer he can think of.

You can’t help but smile. “And I love you. But what does that have to do with me not running for re-election?”

“I know you love me. But there’s some part of me that will always think – as long as we’re in the public eye – that you only love me for appearances. That this is only love for the cameras—”

“Laf, it’s not. I promise I love you.”

“I know you do. But I’m always going to wonder. If it’s fake. If it just feels like love because of the atmosphere. For the past four years I’ve had to live with the gnawing fear that you wouldn’t love me outside of the White House. It would kill me if I had to live like this for another four years.”

Your voice is softer when you speak again. “You once told me you’d stay with me if I wanted to run for re-election. You said for better or for worse.”

“I know. That was years ago. That was when I thought you would only stay married to me while we were in the White House. That was when I thought a fake marriage would be enough for me.”

“Laf—”

“Ma chèrie, I want a life with you. One that isn’t just for show. I want to love you because I love you, not because it will help with your polling numbers.” There’s a deliberate determination between his words. He’s nervous. “I love you so much, and I can’t stand the idea of anyone having reason to think it’s anything less than love.”

The Oval Office is golden.

Well, technically, it’s more of a beige with a vibrant blue carpet in the middle of the room displaying the presidential seal. But in the low light of the December afternoon, the room is filled with a golden glow.

You’ve always known you were going to make history, but to actually be history is something altogether new for you. In another month, the drapes in the Oval Office and the furniture would all be replaced with whatever furniture the next president saw fit. It would be too easy for the white house staff to clean out the White House of any trace of you, but maybe if you were lucky you’d be mentioned in a footnote in a textbook somewhere.

It’s not like you are one to make rash choices. The decision of stepping down from office came after long and meticulous thought on the subject. You are more certain that you made the right decision more and more each day, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have your doubts every now and then.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Lafayette knows you better than you know yourself. He can tell by the blank look on your face while you read through a thick file that no, he’s not interrupting anything.

“It’s strange that I can say no,” you sigh softly. “I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t busy. But apparently people don’t care about a lame duck when there’s a shiny new President-Elect.”

He crosses the room and leans against the desk. Lafayette gently tugs your hand up to his lips and presses a delicate kiss against your knuckles. It’s gentle and timid, as if everything about this relationship depends on this small act of affection. You’ve noticed that Lafayette has been more reserved lately, almost like he feels guilty for asking such a heavy favor of you.

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite president?” It’s hardly a question and mostly an answer.

You smile, and he can’t help but think about how beautiful you are. He thinks you get more beautiful every day, although he can’t figure out how that’s possible.

“Your favorite? You like me better than President Washington?”

Lafayette hums softly and pulls you out of your seat, lifting you up onto the desk. He stands between your legs, hands resting gently on your hips. His gaze falls from your eyes to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and finally says, “you’re easier on the eyes.”

You laugh – Lafayette swears it’s lyrical – and press a kiss to his cheek. “That’s good to hear. How has the house hunting been going?”

His eyes visibly brighten. “I think I’ve found the place.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmhmm. It’s this piece of property in upstate New York. The drive to the city isn’t so far, and the estate. I just know you’re going to love it.”

You could sense the excitement emanating off of him. “Am I?”

Lafayette nods. “Chèrie, you have to see this place. It has a beautiful kitchen for me to cook in. A balcony – I know you love balconies. A few acres so one day our kids—”

“Our kids?”

His eyes widen as he quickly realizes his mistake. “I—well… yeah? I know we haven’t talked about this. I always pictured us with kids, but if that’s not what you want, I can respect that. We don’t need to have kids, I promise that you are already more than enough for me.”

You bring a hand to cup his face, your thumb softly moving across his cheek as you just hold him. “Lafayette, I want a family with you. I want a future with you. I want forever with you. I love you.”

He brings your lips to his, and for the first time, you’re not worried about it being the last time.

I’m just going to add foreign affairs taglist here :)

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