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electricbluebutterflies · 2 years

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Helnik + meeting the “family” (crows found family vibes…)

Or, in which none of the Crows actually want to go ice skating but Nina is Like That. Pretty sure I've never written the other babes before so fingers crossed my characterization is okay? Modern AU, PG-ish, also on ao3.

There are only so many ways this could go wrong. Matthias is pretty sure he’s about to find all of them.

Nina had seemed like a minor miracle when they met a few months ago, which is objectively a weird thing to say about someone who accidentally ran over his foot with her moped but at least it was an accident and she decided that was enough reason to insert herself into his life on some vague justification that two broken bones meant she owed him a bunch of favors and… honestly he’s not sure how that turned into a sorta relationship where they make out on his couch a lot but haven’t discussed feelings, but it did. And one of the perks, if he’s honest with himself, is that there is no intimidating family on her side to eventually meet.

Or, well, not one she’s related to by blood or legal technicalities. That may make this worse.

What Nina has, instead of a more traditional family-of-origin situation, is a squad of misfits who… as Matthias understands the situation, and it was a little hard to focus given she thought this was an okay conversation to have while both of them were minimally clothed, had originally formed without her and dragged her into the fold during a brief time she worked with one of them. The former coworker, the way Nina tells it, is all the people skills of the group; the other two are harder to socialize and can’t figure out the concept of mutual pining, and-

Point being, Matthias has heard too many stories about these people to not want to meet them, and it was at least partially his idea, something something it would be nice for all of the main elements of Nina’s life to integrate and he’s not trying to claim space that isn’t his but if her friends are going to hate him he’d like to know now, and-

Nina, enthusiastic disaster that she is, decided ice skating would be a low-pressure activity. Nina will somehow not get blamed for any of this. He’d hate her if he wasn’t falling in love with her.

He gets there early and isn’t totally sure what he’s keeping an eye out for – Nina herself runs perpetually ten minutes late for everything, and trying to get adequate physical descriptions of her friends out of her was a losing battle, she wasn’t even sure how many people were along for the ride here and-

After what seems like half a lifetime but is really more like five minutes, a couple who look around his age approaches – holding hands, Matthias points out in his mind, trying to judge anyone else’s relationship status is mean and he’s trying to do better but these two are obviously a thing – and he vaguely remembers Nina saying something about one of her people having a flamboyant fashion sense and-

“Matthias, yeah?” the one who lines up with that description says. The aesthetic is glam-rock meets steampunk and Matthias is honestly not sure how anyone can look at themselves in a mirror and still go outside in that many colors at once, but somehow it’s working, and-

“Yeah. I didn’t catch names, Nina was kinda…”

“Trying to protect you from us. Or us from you, I’m not sure-“

“Jes-“ the presumed boyfriend says, and this one has kicked-puppy energy and Matthias may already have a favorite in the group even though he hasn’t met the others yet and-

“Yeah, sorry. I’m Jesper, this is Wylan, Kaz and Inej are probably fighting in her car right now and-“

“Sounds fun,” Matthias mutters, wondering what he’s gotten himself into. His own social circle is limited, to put it politely; he didn’t go back home after his stint in the military, and he has a dog and who needs more than that, and-

“They’re great, really, but I think Nina picked this activity to torture them and nobody can say no to her so…”

“I’ve noticed.”

“She showed us the antlers she put on your dog. Even animals aren’t immune.”

Matthias likes this part of the group, he decides. Jesper doesn’t seem able to shut up and the idea of him and Nina in the same space given their overlapping tendencies… this one is the former coworker, Matthias figures out without asking, and a rambling story about the people one encounters while tending bar on major holidays confirms it, and-

Nina herself is the next to show up, looking gorgeous as ever and yeah Matthias is developing feelings alright, and she’s not subtle with the PDA and he’d let her do anything, and-

“Did our cryptids bail on us?” she asks, turning her attention to Jesper. “Or are they…”

“Always safer not to know. If they’re late, there’s reasons.”

Nina gives the rest of the group an annoyed look. “Is this even an okay activity for… I should’ve asked, I really should’ve-“

“They’re going to be clinging to each other anyways. And probably the wall. I’m not worried. If they even show up.”

“How damn hard is it to text people, I swear to-“

Her voice cuts off as Jesper switches back into an even louder mode of enthusiasm, waving to someone in the distance. Matthias turns and sees what must be the missing people approaching, this duo a little harder to read as a couple but there’s definitely some kind of connection going on there, and he’s left standing still while Nina and Jesper decide to meet their other friends halfway, him and the stray boyfriend and-

“How long have you been involved in this…”

“Close to a year,” Wylan shrugs. “And I’m not used to all of them at once either.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“Some families are hard to integrate into. I don’t know. You’re here. That’s at least a chance.”

A chance for what, Matthias isn’t sure, but-

The other two – Kaz and Inej, he reminds himself, attaching names – join the circle and both seem to eye him like prey, eyes searching separately for weakness. Matthias isn’t scared of them, exactly, but he feels like he should be, and-

“So you’re the one Nina tried to kill?” Inej asks, and there’s something almost playful in her voice that he can’t place.

“She ran over my foot. Total accident.”

“Welcome. I wouldn’t say we require scars, but…”

“Nina hasn’t brought any of her flings into the fray,” Kaz adds, decidedly more guarded. “First time for everything. If we all survive this.”

“There are only so many places I can take you people in December,” Nina points out, arms crossed under her chest in a way that is just unfair in public. “None of us have ever gotten kicked out of a pop-up ice rink, so I thought…”

“First time for everything,” Kaz repeats. “Now, are we doing this or not?”

Matthias would like to think he has an advantage over the rest of the group – he grew up in that part of Minnesota, played hockey in high school and everything – and sure enough, even though it’s been a few years since he’s been on skates, he’s still at least decent. Nina is anything but, and she clings to him in a way that even he can justify because otherwise she’ll hit the ground every thirty seconds, but she’s clearly enjoying herself. The others…

Matthias doesn’t know them yet. It may be years before he feels like he knows them. He wants that time. He wants to see what they’re all like in a more comfortable environment – it is made clear that none of them thought this outing was a good idea, with the possible exception of poor Wylan who apparently has some boundary issues and a need for attention that the others are trying to help him minimize and live beyond – and maybe next time they’ll get that. Maybe next time…

“Having fun?” Nina asks after a while, leaning up to kiss Matthias’s cheek.

“Yeah. I am.”

“They like you.”

“You sure?”

“It’s been half an hour and no one’s threatened you yet. They like you.”

“Next time we should do something where we can bring Sigyn.”

“Do you really want my friends around your dog?”

“Who can say no to her?”

Nina smiles, and she glows sometimes and it’s captivating. “No wonder I get along with her, we’re so similar…”

“You’re cuter,” Matthias says, kissing the top of her head.

“I’ve been compared to worse. And she is a winter dog…”

“Next time it snows we could do… something. All of us.”

“I can’t believe it, you’re actually suggesting activities that involve other people, I have corrupted you.”

“Just a little.”

If this is what he’s gotten into, he thinks, maybe they’ll be okay.

#ebf writes fic #helnik

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acosmiceducation · 11 months

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The only financial product you need to know

If I had a dollar for every instagram post, Motley Fool article or personal finance “expert” who claimed to know which stocks to buy, what was hot and what you should get in on, I’d have enough money to give everyone reading this article enough money to retire right now. Picking individual stocks (if you intend to make money) is a very long arduous process. To be effective at it you need to understand the following about each stock you merely consider:

What type of business it is Profit to Earnings ratio (P/E) Earnings per share Past performance Current share price compared to past performance Past, current, and future plans for major dealings within the business A general understanding of the economy as a whole and how it relates to this stock Who is running the company and what does that mean for the future share price Staying up to date on daily news and trends …And ideally a lot more….

And even if you do that for every one of the thousands of publicly traded companies around the world you could still get it wrong and lose your money.

Let’s look at an example. Enron, the former energy giant:

This is a well-known case of a booming energy company where in the year 2000 brought in $101 billion in revenue! There were headlines everywhere telling investors to buy the stock. In March 2001 the stock was trading at $55/share. By October it was trading at $33/share and Wall Street was screaming “BUY”! On November 29th it was trading for a mere $0.36/share and Credit Suisse First Boston said to “hold”, it’ll go back up right?. But 3 days later the company filed for bankruptcy and that was it. All the money investors had in Enron was gone. It turns out for months they were fraudulently covering up their debts while publicly claiming their profits were great.

Don’t get me wrong, one of the fastest and most reliable ways to build insane amounts of wealth over time would be to put all your money in just a few companies that have huge potential. Just imagine if you put all your money into Apple in the 1980s, you’d be filthy stinking rich now, much richer if you had just put your money in an ETF, but we only know that now. If we put ourselves back in the 1980s it would have been almost impossible for you to have predicted how well Apple would have done. Steve Jobs was fired in the mid 80s and Apple had a very rough following decade. The company very well could have gone under meaning you would have lost all of your initial investment. Unless you are willing to risk losing all your money, I do not recommend this approach.

In fact, I made this mistake early on in my investing days. I was lured in by the headlines “Put $1000 in this stock to see your money increase 10x in the next decade”. “This is one stock I’m buying hand-over-fist this month”. “You’ll regret not buying this one energy stock now”. I get it, it’s sexy! Individual stocks have no management fees, and have the potential to earn you tons of cash. I mean, the next Tesla, or Apple, or Amazon is being publicly traded for dirt cheap right now. I just have no idea what the name of that company is, and looking for it is more likely going to be a waste of your time. But hey, if you want to spend hours, or even an entire career researching and picking the best stocks go right ahead, just know that it isn’t as easy as it sounds. There are tons of people already making a living doing that. They’re called Mutual Fund managers and how many of them consistently beat the market (the average return of the stock market)? It’s a ridiculously low number. Basically unless you’re ultra good at it like Warren Buffett or Ray Dalio, eventually you’re going to screw up.

But there is a solution! Honestly it is one of those things in life where it really is almost too-good-to-be-true. Enter the ETF.

Full article on my website! https://acosmiceducation.com/etfs/

#invesing #finance #personal finance #money #eductation

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 2 years

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“Canadianism Not A Mere Brandishing,” Kingston Whig-Standard. February 7, 1933. Page 12. ----- Prof. R. G. Trotter Spoke on "Canadian Back Fence" --- "At the moment the world of na-tions may seem to show little but the brandishing of national big sticks and the shouting of egotistical slogans," said Prof. R. G. Trotter, in his lecture in Convocation Hall on Monday. "But, if there is any permanent meaning or universal value in Canadianism, if, in short, it deserves to live and to grow it is because, at its best, it stands for something essentially different, neither vindictive quarrelsomeness, nor suspicious isolation, nor smug superiority, but friendly co- operation for common ends with frank acceptance and cordial recognition of national differences of tradition and life."

Prof. Trotter spoke on "The Canadian Back-Fence in Anglo-American Relations." This lecture was the fifth in the series sponsored by the Extenston Department of Queen's University.

Prof. Trotter explained that the boundary-fence between Canada is one of utmost importance. "It is a theme of profound significance to us as Canadians, as British subjects, and as citizens of a world whose society for the most part shows today few symptoms of growth other than growing pains. Modern science tells us that growing pains are not symptoms of growth but of maladjustment," said the speaker.

"There was a time when the phrase Manifest Destiny' was on many tongues in the United States as a slogan for expansion northward. This phrase ceased to stand when the people of the Republic realized, rather recently so far as the rank and file are concerned, that we are really an autonomous nation. They have concluded, it seems, that an attempt to assimilate the use would strain their already overworked powers of digestion. Their manifest destiny is no longer to absorb us but to live next door to us in relations of permanent neighborliness.

"On both sides of our mutual fence old fears of each other's hostile or at least jealous imperialism are vanished. We can therefore afford to be untroubled about that fence's continued existence and are able to contemplate its history in a tranquil mood."

Prof. Trotter gave a brief outline of certain facts of geography and history in their bearings upon this boundary and pointed out how obvious then appears the inherent reasonableness of its existence and in general of its location.

"The early foundations of an economic trans-continental unity that were laid by the pioneers of the St. Lawrence valley in the days of the Old Regime, persisted and were strengthened after Britain had replaced France in the north and the old English colonies had broken loose from the Empire.

"If we believe not only that there is, but that it is right that there should be, a Canadian nation, and that it should properly occupy so much of this continent as it does, we may well be peculiarly thankful that for such long and pregnant years our southern boundary was in essential respects a back-fence of the Empire rather than our own front fence and we should be glad that its defence and preservation were so continuously and so largely a concern of His Majesty's Government in Great Britain.

"The United States cannot be eliminated and should not be ignored as a factor of importance in our history and in our present and future situation. Doctrines of isolationism are futile and our programs must shaped to take the United States into account at every turn.

"The advancement of the United States in the present century into the first rank of world powers has made this former back fence into a front fence of the British Empire. Canada has to look after it not only in her own interest but as its custodian for the Empire.

"One of the best answers to the question as to whether the Canadian nation itself, as well as its political leadership, is mature enough to deserve that control of its external diplomacy which it has so recently acquired, will be found in the degree of success with which relations across our border are handled."

#kingston ontario #queen's university #public lecture #u.s.-canada relations #u.s.-canada border #border crossings #canadian history #canada in the british empire #manifest destiny #canadian national identity #canadian nationalism #great depression in canada

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malewifehenrycooldown · 2 years

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Slightly long, ramble vent-ish post but also some negative observations of the wider self ship community that has been bothering me a little bit.

sometimes I don’t want to be in the self ship community anymore (not that I considered myself part of it from the beginning) because said the community creates these small pocket communities of the same people interacting with each other and that’s fair and totally fine!

It’s just that up to a certain point, these pocket communities start to create an isolating and alien environment for newcomers and this is not helped by the community’s genuinely bad communication skills. Like I genuinely wonder how many blogs have deactivated due to lack of interactivity (a whole can of worms no one likes talking about apparently. HI REBLOG:LIKE RATIO) and the overwhelmingly intimidating environment for younger folks (teens - early 20s) to navigate, especially people who may not be as critical or conscious of the media they consume (and don’t understand how they could be harming people through consuming specific pieces of fiction). I remember one person straight up left due to the lack of communication and it really, really sucks because just an open conversation can really ease peoples fears and worries. People just should not have to feel like walking on eggshells all the damn time in the community and if they feel that way then there is something SEVERELY WRONG with this community but no one cares to address it

Like I’ve already left a few self discord servers, and blocked some users, and now I just don’t see any point really being in the community anymore, because there’s been multiple occasions when I’ve interacted with a user and then it turns out that said user probably has some personal issues they need to sort out, but constantly deflect blame or disregard anyone’s advice to change their actions/attitudes for the better or that they really need to get actual professional help. Like obviously we should call out bad behaviour but also know that you should encourage these people to change saidd behaviours for the better.

Idk maybe I’m cursed on tumblr to interact with people who turn out to be not that great or I’m just too naive because I believe that people are inherently good. Maybe I’m a fool for wanting to see the good in people and wanting to support them, all at the cost of me ignoring all the red flags that are obviously in front of me. Which to be fair is probably reasonable; fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me for not knowing better I should have heeded the red flags when I saw them. /serious

#shallow rambles #shallow vents #/ not about anymone #I guess also because tumblr is a bit of a polarising platform which probably doesn’t help #a few early former mutuals turn out to be not great people :/#it probably doesn’t help that I am a conflict avoider and this sort of shit triggers my fight or flight response #idk man. maybe I’ll just stay in my bubble tbh #that and also I’ve noticed there’s some cult of Personality type shit happening too in the self ship community but I don’t think people #are ready to have that conversation yet 🧍‍♀️#don’t expect me to do promos anymore tbh I don’t really see the point in them anymore #others thoughts are appreciated because I hope I’m not the only person that feels isolated by the community #like I have a life outside of the internet. i have more important things to do than worry about the ‘community’#like obviously. gatekeep this shit from pro/shippers and alt right/hateful/bigoted people.#but like don’t make good folks in your community have to walk on eggshells all the time #this is not a sob story or anything these are just my thoughts and stuff #<- /gen serious #I’m just so tired of this community #nothing is fun anymore tbh and really it’s just more so a chore now…#when i come back I might clean out my posts and followers to keep a minimal audience #it might get better idk.#thoughts on queue #scheduled post: waiting in line

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mjolnir-steve · 3 years

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Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair.

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too.

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot.

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you.

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings.

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night.

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work.

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.”

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder.

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d.

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?”

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides.

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #maggie's writing #frank adler #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler smut

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damonalbarn · 3 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you knew the article that Justine spoke about suzi in?!

It was in The Guardian in 2000. Here you go:

Sweet revenge

In the mid 90s, Justine Frischmann and Damon Albarn were the First Couple of Britpop. Then he used a Blur album to rake over their break-up, while she languished in obscurity amid rumours of heroin addiction. Now she's back with a new album, and it's her turn to exorcise her demons.

Caroline Sullivan

Friday March 24, 2000

As Alison Moyet once said, it's hard to write a decent song when you're happy. Rock bands thrive on romantic turmoil in their private lives, without which they would be reduced to padding out lyrics with football scores and the weather.

Thus it was for Blur's Damon Albarn in mid-1998 when he sat down to write what would become the 13 album. His eight-year relationship with Justine Frischmann of the chart-topping Elastica, whom he once described as **"the only person who's ever been completely necessary to me" **had just ended, at her instigation. Pained and humiliated, he decided to exact revenge by exposing their most intimate details to public scrutiny.

The outcome? Embarrassment for Frischmann, a number one album for Blur and a bit of a result for Albarn.

Break-up albums are by definition both embittered and yearning - in the case of Marvin Gaye's vindictive Here, My Dear, they're just plain nasty - but 13 got more up-close and personal than could be considered gentlemanly. Albarn portrayed his former partner as neurotic, even slipping apparent drug references into the single Tender: "Tender is the ghost, the ghost I love the most/Hiding from the sun, waiting for the night to come". Frischmann was the ghost, supposedly, who was on the verge of being consumed by what one music paper euphemistically called "the darkness at the heart of Elastica".

Frischmann's response can be found on a song called The Way I Like It, which appears on Elastica's first album in five years, The Menace (out next month): "Well, I'm living all right and I'm doing okay/Had a lover who was made of sand, and the wind blew him away".

This is unlikely to be her last word on the subject. As she ambivalently begins her first round of interviews since 1996, she's finding that everyone has the same three questions. Why did Elastica nearly sabotage a promising career by taking so long to follow up their million-selling debut? Had Frischmann taken leave of her senses when she walked out on Mr Britpop? And what about the drug rumours?

"One journalist said to me, 'Dahling, I heard you were on heroin - Mahvelous!' " she says with some amusement. "Drugs are around, but I'm not that interested and never have been, although there have been elements of party animal in my band. The rumours are a lot to do with rock'n'roll mythology, where people want to believe you're having a more exciting time than you are."

The only drugs on her person today, as she perches on the edge of an armchair in her publicist's north London living room, are Marlboro Lights. Her other indulgences are two cups of herbal tea and a Cadbury's Flake cupcake, which she nibbles with well-bred pleasure. Her dark eyes are clear, and her long, tanned body is a testament to the virtues of a daily swim in a pool near her Notting Hill home. Only Elastica know whether they really succumbed to heroin and hedonism after their self-titled debut made them more famous than they'd ever expected to be, but if they did, Frischmann, 30, seems little the worse for it.

Given the current predominance of damnable boy bands, the Britpop mid-90s are beginning to seem like a halcyon period for English music. It was a time when the underground went overground, and a self-described "little punk band" like Elastica could sell 80,000 albums in a week.

More than a few loser guitar groups saw Britpop as a licence to print money, but Elastica, led with cool elan by the androgynous Frischmann, were one of its gems. The Blur connection was a marketing godsend (Frischmann and Albarn met on the London indie circuit, she as guitarist in an early line-up of Suede and girlfriend of frontman Brett Anderson, he as a cherubic baggy hopeful), yet the spiky-haired Elastica LP embodied that euphoric time like nothing else.

Frischmann, guitarist Donna Matthews, drummer Justin Welch and bassist Annie Holland were unprepared for the album soaring to number one in its first week. When they signed their record deal, Frischmann, whose great-grandfather was a conductor of the Tsar's orchestra at the Summer Palace in Byelorussia, was five years into an architecture degree at London University. A liberal north London Jewish upbringing - her engineer father built the Oxford Street landmark Centrepoint - had instilled expectations of success, but the reality of being photographed in the supermarket and having her rubbish stolen was a shock. Fiercely independent, she also resented her unsought role as half of Britpop's First Couple.

There was more. Two of Frischmann's musical heroes, The Stranglers and Wire, decided that two Elastica songs were suspiciously similar to two of their own tracks, and won royalties. Meanwhile, there were malicious rumours that Albarn had done much of the work on the record. He hadn't, but he did find Justine's success in America, where she was substantially out-selling Blur, hard to endure.

"It was very hard for him to deal with and he's very confrontational," she says, with the flattering openness of someone who prefers interviews to be more like conversations. She admits she often says too much, but in an era of image control and spin, her honesty makes her a one-off. Not that she's likely to land herself in it too badly - she possesses the intellectual ammunition to look after herself, which must have been instrumental in attracting two of rock's more articulate stars, Albarn and Anderson.

She's been accused of being a professional rock girlfriend, though it was probably they who were lucky to get her. She spent the cab ride over reading the Sylvia Plath letters in Monday's Guardian, and muses on the irony of the poet's subjugating herself to Ted Hughes when she was the more gifted. (Her new boyfriend, by the way, is an unknown photographer, "though that'll probably change, because men seem to get famous when I go out with them".)

"I reacted the way a lot of women do, by being passive," she continues. "He put a lot of pressure on me to give up Elastica. He said, 'You don't want to be in a band, you want to settle down and have kids.' " In so many words? "In so many words. He kept putting on pressure till I started to believe him." She adds bemusedly: "I've met his new girlfriend, and one of the first things she said was that he wanted her to give up travelling with her work to stay home with the baby [Missy, born last autumn]. I'm surprised he's got away with being thought of as a nice person for so long."

After 18 months, during which they did seven American and three Japanese tours, Elastica came off the road to record company demands for an immediate second album. Annie Holland's response was to quit the group, while Donna Matthews became renowned for hard partying on the nocturnal west London scene. They lethargically recorded some demos, but their heart wasn't in it. By 1997, when a second album should have been ready to go, Frischmann and Matthews were barely speaking, and there was nothing useable down on tape.

Holland's replacement, Sheila Chipperfield (of the circus Chipperfields), was deemed not good enough and left by mutual consent. By 1998, their continued lack of productivity was being likened to the Stone Roses' lengthy and ultimately self-destructive holiday between their first and second LPs.

"I didn't think Elastica were going to continue at that point, and we did kinda split up," she says, absently stroking her publicist's cat. Frischmann is a cat person; she's owned a tabby called Benjamin since she was 10. "Unconditional love," she coos. The pet's place in her life is so assured that prospective boyfriends are subjected to his feline scrutiny before she'll go out with them.

On top of everything else, in early 1998 her relationship with Albarn was in trouble. Frischmann retains enough of the indie ethic to detest the phenomenon of celebrity couples, and was dismayed when they became one. "I really hated the tabloid interest, and I went out of my way not to be photographed with him. Only about three pictures of us together exist, I think. In many ways, I think the media interest broke us up, because it made me feel the relationship was quite ugly, and I had to get away from it. There were other factors, too, obviously, because we were together for eight years, and I finally felt it was better the devil you didn't know, really."

Albarn's ego seems to have been severely undermined by having a girlfriend who was nearly as successful as he was, and something of a sex symbol to boot. Despite adopting a resolutely boyish T-shirt-and-jeans uniform, she's thoroughly feminine, a mix that got her voted fifth most fanciable woman in a lesbian magazine.

"I'm completely heterosexual, so I didn't know how to take that. It scares the shit out of me, the idea of being with a girl. I'm glad I've narrowed it down to half the people in the world."

She seems to view Albarn with indulgent exasperation these days, simultaneously praising his intelligence ("The Gallaghers just couldn't compete") and ticking off his flaws. "Damon adores being in the press, and sees all press as good press. He orchestrated that rivalry thing with Oasis. He really wanted kids, and I didn't feel our relationship was stable enough. He was a naughty boy, and he wasn't the right person to have kids with. I had this cathartic moment..."

At which point they split up. Albarn wrote 13 and then met Suzi Winstanley, an artist. "She was pregnant within three months," Justine observes wickedly.

Of the acclaimed 13, she's tactful, describing several songs as "really lovely". She studies her cigarette for a while before adding, "but I'm cynical about selling a record on the back of our relationship". But you're doing the same now. "It's true, but at the time I had no right of reply."

Elastica finally pulled themselves together last year, just as the music industry was about to write them off (their American label had already "very kindly let us go", as she puts it). Holland rejoined, Matthews went to Wales to sort out her life and the band banged out an EP and played the Reading Festival. Things came together quickly after that. They spent the last £10,000 of the recording budget on re-recording a dozen tracks, finishing the album, after years of procrastinating, in six weeks. They've called it The Menace "because that's what it was like to make".

It's dark and resolutely uncommercial - all wrong for 2000's pop-oriented climate. It's unlikely to match the success of the first one, which is fine with them. Call it (though Justine doesn't) their White Album. Its 70s punk aesthetic brings to mind angry girls such as the Slits and the Au Pairs, although the defining mood isn't anger so much as catharsis. None of the songs is specifically about Albarn, she claims. "The dark feeling is due to the sense of isolation, tasting success and getting frightened by it. I was questioning whether I wanted to be in a band any more, and there was no one I could ask for advice. Getting success and everything you ever dreamed about is hard to handle, and makes you question everything."

She's better prepared for success, if it comes again, this time. Already the privacy-preserving barriers are in place. The next interview of the day is with Time Out magazine, which wants a list of her favourite restaurants. "I'm not telling them where I eat," she says reflexively. "I'm gonna lie."

#questions #damon albarn #justine frischmann #blur #elastica

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sckyie · 3 years

Text

hq last goodbye after a break-up

☛ includes: azumane asahi, tendou satori, kozume kenma

☛ warnings: angst

☛ pronouns: gender neutral

☛ a/n: uhm again idk how headcanons work but tendou made me teary eyed :(

『 AZUMANE ASAHI 』

one of the hardest things for him to do after you two broke things off

though your break-up was mutual, he couldn't really bear the thought of letting you go for real

he held so much love in your relationship, but in the end, the two of you grew apart as people and you couldn't handle trying to hold up something that wasn't moving anywhere

he himself didn't want the relationship to be one-sided and letting you go was the best option

it was a small brunch meeting where you wanted to say your goodbyes, the place you two had met, a cafe down the street of your old college

you sat quietly, sipping on a warm cup of coffee as you waited for your now ex-boyfriend. even though you wanted this break-up and this last goodbye, your nerves were shot through the roof. in truth, you never wanted you two to grow apart. asahi was the first man to help you understand the definition of love.

asahi was dreading the day to see you. it wasn't that he didn't want to see you, it was that he couldn't hold himself to meet you face to face. he knew that once he sees you again that he's going to want you back.

he approached the cafe and noticed you sitting outside at one of the tables. taking a deep breath, he approached the table. "y/n?" he asks.

"oh, hey azumane," you say. a sting in his chest rang after hearing his last name left your mouth.

"so, how are you?" he awkwardly smiled as he pulled his chair to sit.

"good...good..." you shied. "how are you?"

"i've been better, just stuck at work," he explained.

"hm, seems like normal," you chuckled softly. "so, i just wanted to give you something back...that's why i called you to meet."

"oh?" asahi's palms were sweating as you reached down for a large paper bag. wordlessly, you place it in front of him, anticipating his next words. he takes the bag, peeking inside to see his old sweater and some of his old shirts. he frowns slightly at the sight until he notices a small jewelry box. he picks up the small container, opening it to reveal the promise ring he gave you on your anniversary. "wait-"

"look i know you said to keep it but i can't without thinking about you," you say as you picked at your fingertips. "so you should keep it. you always told me-"

"so this is really it, huh?" asahi's voice was wary as he stared at the ring. "there's no second chance, no winning you back?"

a silence fell between you two as he picked the ring out of the box. your chest was aching at his words. as much as you wanted to take him back, you knew that it was for the better if you two were apart. asahi looked up from the piece of jewelry and noticed how glossy your eyes had gotten. "i'm sorry, i can't do this," you stood up to leave but asahi grabbed your wrist. "i wanted to tell you how much you meant to me and i wish you the best but- but- i can't. i'm sorry- i should go...thank you azumane..."

you broke out of his hold before jogging towards the nearest train station. and that was it, asahi was left alone with the promise ring still in his hands. tears rolled down his cheek as he gripped the ring. he held the sweater close, taking in your scent that lingered along the fabric.

『 TENDOU SATORI 』

he didn't mean to break your heart, truly he thought things would work out

the former middle blocker had believed long distance would work once he left to culinary school

before he could even leave, things between you two had gotten heated and you were frustrated, he was too but he said things that he wished he never said

"i'm sorry i'm chasing after my dream! unlike you! you're living the same life since high school!"

"you! you were my dream satori! you and i! having a family, growing old together! you! it was all you! god- i can't do this anymore!"

his apologies weren't doing any good to you, so for some closure, you went to see him before his flight

you gripped tightly on the ends of your sleeves as you walked around the airport looking for tendou. his flight wasn't for another hour but semi had told you that he was waiting by the gate early. searching for the flight to france on the list of gates, you heard a voice call you out.

"y/n?" tendou was shocked to even see you here. you turned around to face him. "w-what are you doing here?"

"i- i don't know," your voice was shaking. you cautiously approached him, leaving some space between you two. "i guess...i wanted to wish you the best..."

"y/n," he cooed. "your eyes are puffy...i'm sorry for what i said, i know i shouldn't have treated you like that."

"it's okay satori.." you breathed.

"do you think we can try long distance?" tendou was reaching for some kind of hope.

"i...i don't think so..." you knew that it wouldn't work with the time zones and work. you also knew that letting him go would let him succeed in his dream.

"mhm," tendou hummed. "y'know i still love you, right?"

"of course i know," you took a step closer. "i still love you too..."

tendou reaches out to you, pulling you into a hug. the comforting hug hurt, your heart was aching and tears began to dampen his jacket as he held you. "you'll do great things," tendou whispered. you could hear in his voice he was crying too.

you pulled away, looking at his now glassy eyes. "you too," you reached up, cupping his cheeks. as he held onto your waist, the intercom for his flight's check-in was now open. "oh...it's time..."

"i'm gonna miss you," tendou sniffled.

"me too..." you wiped your tears before tendou let go. you watched him begin to walk away, but something in you made you reach for his hands. "you didn't give me one last goodbye kiss."

tendou's eyes were welling up with tears once again as he let go of his luggage. he pulls you into his arms, connecting his lips with yours. you couldn't believe that this was the last time you'd be with him. you embraced his affection for those few moments before he slowly pulls away. he wipes away your tears before wordlessly letting go. who knew goodbyes would hurt this bad?

『 KOZUME KENMA 』

it was more of a right person, wrong time situation

you both loved each other as if you two were a married couple but it came to a point in your lives where it felt like you two were strangers

kenma knew you meant well when you brought up the idea of breaking up, he couldn't bear the thought of saying goodbye

you were his person, the one person he never wanted to let you go

today was the day you were finally moving away and you had to say your last farewell to him

you stood at the bottom of the stairs in front of his house waiting for kenma to come out to see you. he was dressed in sweats and his hair was messy once you saw him emerge from his front door. "hey," he says softly. his voice was raspy and you could tell he was crying.

"hi," you took a step forward, standing in front of him. "aw kenma, your hair." you tried to bring up his mood. you reached up, combing his hair with your fingers. he leaned into your touch, almost whining at the feeling.

"i'm sorry i didn't do better.." he said, pawing to hold you.

"it wasn't you," you reassured. "it just...wasn't our time yet."

"if it wasn't me, then why did you bring chub chubs," kenma pokes at the stuffed cat plush he gave you in your hands. you pull your hand away from his hair and petted the fluffy stuffed animal.

"because he deserves to be with his dad," you joked. though you were smiling, you could feel the pain sting as you reached out to give the toy to him.

kenma takes the soft cat into his hands and moves to cup it's cheeks. "your parent is divorcing me," he says to the stuffie. he squishes his cheeks before turning to you who was giggling at the sight. "fuck i'm gonna miss you."

he pulls you in with his right arm, holding you tightly. "i'm gonna miss you too." you wrapped your arms around him feeling the tears build up. "promise me you'll take care of yourself?" you mumbled into his chest.

"i promise as long as you do the same," kenma says.

"mhm," you hummed. kenma pulls away, still holding you in his arms, to admire you one last time. he dips down, planting a kiss on your forehead. "take care of chub chubs too, i slept with him every night when you didn't sleep over."

"come back for me too," kenma gives the plush a voice as he waves its little arms. you chuckled at him, looking up one last time at your now former partner. "i love you, i hope you know i always will."

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @d0llpie @elianetsantana @snowsmuse @joy-laufeyson

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natromanxoff · 2 years

Text

The Vancouver Sun - April 8, 2006

Credits to Royal Blue and Queencuttings.com

MUSIC | Frontman Paul Rodgers promises a '70s-style blast when Queen hits the Coliseum

[Photo caption-1: Frontman Paul Rodgers joins guitarist Brian May for the Queen world tour. The super group comes to PNE Coliseum Thursday.]

A chance to experience Queen as it was

its heyday, it may be the closest opportunity to experience Queen as it was. For Bohemian Rhapsody, Mercury makes an appearance on the video screen, to tackle one of his most signature songs.

"We said at the outset that it was never going to be a permanent thing, and there's no question in my mind of replacing Freddie Mercury or any of that," says Rodgers. "And I think the fans have been accepting of that, they understand, in the same way they don't expect me to be Free and they don't expect Brian [May] to be Jimmy Page or Mick Ralphs, my former guitar players. So it's very much being accepted for what it is. And it is a full on, very large rock show."

His collaboration with one of the '70s most campy rock bands is a brilliant step forward at a time when other rudderless rock veterans are turning to reality television and fame-seeking 20-somethings for their frontmen. (Hint: the initials are INXS).

It's a far better idea to ramp up one's classic rock cachet by pairing up with another survivor of the '70s. In order to reclaim the arena rock throne, Rodgers needed a band and Queen needed a leader. They'd been without one since Mercury died from AIDS complications in November, 1991.

The idea to collaborate was born out of a concert that marked the 50th anniversary of the Fender Stratocaster guitar. That night, Rodgers also played with Ronnie Wood and Joe Walsh. A few weeks later, he, May and Taylor played together again at the UK Music Hall of Fame Awards.

"But we never thought of putting myself with Queen until the moment came," says Rodgers. "I said to Brian, 'Do you think you could do All Right Now for me?' And he said, 'Oh yeah, but you've got to play for us, We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions. And I said, 'Sure, that sounds great, because those are two songs I can really rip it up on.

"And we did that, and everybody came off stage and we all said, "Wow, we gotta do this again,' which does often happen and then nothing may well come of it, because you go your separate ways and life takes over.

"But we actually did pursue it, and we talked on the phone and we talked about the idea of doing maybe a couple of shows in London just for fun. And people got very exited — promoters, management, record companies — and it turned into I think it was a 28-day arena tour of Europe. And it has now turned into an entirely full world tour, and here we are."

And so Queen with Paul Rodgers was born as a live CD/DVD as well, which has reignited the careers of Rodgers, Queen guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor, who'd all released solo material following the peak years with their respective bands.

There are a few concert surprises, too. They've written a new song, they play a Queen song called The Show Must Go On that never did get played live because Mercury didn't live long enough (Rodgers takes an Otis Redding approach).

And although they were initially reluctant, May and Taylor take turns singing because Rodgers encouraged them to. The fans would want it, he told them.

If their collaboration works, it's due in part to a mutual respect among talented musicians. Individually they might not be the world's most famous faces, but they are musician's musicians, and for music fans, they are rock 'n' roll luminaries.

"They do tell me that in their early days when they first were starting out Fire and Water was one of the Free albums, and it was their musical bible, etcetera. And they would listen to that. They obviously went a slightly different way," he says, laughing, because Queen sounded nothing like Free.

"But yeah, I've always admired them from a distance. I can't put my hand on my heart and say I've always bought all their albums, but I have always respected them a great deal whenever I heard their music on the radio."

The Queen collaboration is merely one in a long string of such unions for Rodgers, who also played with Led Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page as The Firm, the output of which was two albums.

In the early '90s, he joined former Who drummer Kenny Jones for The Law, which featured artists like Bryan Adams and David Gilmour. He's released albums of Muddy Waters and Jimi Hendrix tunes, being a credibility artist with a penchant for the blues and soul.

But most famously, it's his rock output that's earned him a name, hits such as All Right Now, Can't Get Enough, Feel Like Makin' Love, Rock Steady, Rock 'n' Roll Fantasy, Shooting Star. The Rodgers biography reads like a family tree of the influential artists of the 60s and 70s, and if he hasn't played with most of them, he's come close.

He tells the story of meeting a young Robert Plant at a working-class dive in Birmingham, in the days when Alexis Korner was playing with Free and before Led Zeppelin even existed. He remembers Plant singing (he does a hilarious falsetto impersonation) and got talking with him about how Plant was about to go down to London to work with a new artist named Jimmy Page. Rodgers had heard all about this session musician who was creating a buzz, but cautioned Plant that instead of taking the "30 quid a week" offered, he took a percentage instead.

It’s probably the best advice Plant ever got in his life.

But Paul Rodgers (right) has toured consistently, even when he wasn't fronting a major marquee name.

It's not the '70s anymore, which means touring is no longer synonymous with words like insanity and self-destruction.

"For me it's a lot more sober, and therefore I remember more of it," says Rodgers.

"In the old days, it was sort of full-on party central and wall to wall etcetera. But it has always been about the music to me 100 per cent, and all those other things really are distractions and they can get to be so distracting that they effect the music to its detriment, you know.

"So, I stay focused on the music and I like to stay fit. As I mentioned earlier I meditate and I do yoga and I work out in the gym. These are things that I like to do anyway and fortunately they've stayed me in good stead and enabled me to handle the pressures of this full on tour."

They may not be a permanent group, but Rodgers hints at the possibility of another project.

"Actually, it wouldn't surprise me if we did something bluesy in the not too distant future," he says.

As in an album?

"I don't know, I don't know," he says, coyly. "I will say we sound-checked the Hendrix 12-bar Redhouse the other day. And it was just smokin'."

[Photo caption-2: At left, new frontman Paul Rodgers (right) and Brian May of Queen perform in London last month at the start of their European tour.]

[Photo caption-3: Paul Rodgers (right) has toured consistently, even when he wasn’t fronting a major marquee name.]

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #brian may #paul rodgers #queencuttings.com #queen scans #the vancouver sun april 2006

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ggyutea · 4 years

Text

into the aether // jjk [CHAPTER ONE]

pairing: agent!jungkook x agent!reader

genre: not-so-secret organization au, rivals to lovers au, sci-fi, action, slow burn, mutual pining, future mystery 👀, eventual fluff, eventual smut (probably), teeny bit of future angst

word count: 4.4k

summary: As a rookie member of an organization that deals in investigating and neutralizing paranormal and extraterrestrial threats, you get assigned to your very first case with Jeon Jungkook as your partner, a former classmate you’ve never been too fond of. But what happens when your supposed low-tier rookie case begins to unravel into something more serious than anyone anticipated? And, more importantly, how do you come to terms with your growing feelings for Jungkook?

contents: jungkook being a little shit, y/n is a bisexual disaster, the tension is real honestly, female!namjoon, long haired Kook, mild info-dumping for context

warnings: mild cursing

a/n: behold, my first posted fic! i have absolutely no idea how long this series will be but i’m super excited about it!! i hope anyone who happens to come across this enjoys it :))

previous || masterlist || next

The agency-issued suit is surprisingly comfortable. Form-fitting without being tight, the dress slacks and jacket cling softly to your body as you adjust your badge before entering your new workplace. Taking a deep breath as you push open the double doors of the Aether Headquarters, you are greeted by the sight of many bustling individuals, all dressed in suits identical to the one currently adorning your body. A potent mix of excitement and nerves light up your veins as you take in the sight, the moment almost surreal.

Your heels click across the linoleum floor as you begin to make your way through the massive atrium to the semi-circular elevator. You check and double check your badge for your assignment details, noting in relief when you realize that you haven’t already forgotten them. Floor 7, Division S01. Floor 7, Division S01, you repeat over and over again, a mantra of sorts. Beginning at a brisk pace, you inevitably slow as you take in the sights of the cavernous space. Massive glass windows stretch high towards the ceiling on every wall, letting in beams of early morning sunlight that cast a warm glow over everything they touch. Two large LED screens are affixed on either side of the main elevator across the way, one showcasing a map of the city, the other a map of the country, with all of the paranormal and extraterrestrial hotspots highlighted in bright red pulsing circles. A small cafe sits nestled in a corner to your left, baristas rushing around frantically in the midst of the morning rush. A circular desk occupies the center of the room, currently manned by two individuals as they supervise the row of turnstile doors on either side. Agents stand lined up in front of the doors, some impatiently checking their watches as they wait for the people in front of them to swipe in, others leisurely sipping their coffee.

You’re reminded that in your haste this morning, you forgot to make yourself coffee, so before you join the agents at the doors, you cheerily purchase your own steaming cup of liquid energy. You’re not sure if you really need it, with all of the adrenaline rushing through your system, but you figure it can’t hurt. Sure enough, the warmth of the drink floods your body with a sense of ease, and you can’t help the smile that overtakes your face as you swipe your badge, watching the light on the console turn green as an automated voice says, “Welcome, Agent Y/n.” Continuing your path towards the elevator, you note with glee an approaching directory indicating that the library and research facilities are to your right, with the short-term containment facilities lying to your left. Of course, you have learned about all of this in your four years of training, but learning about the immensity of the resources available in the Aether Headquarters and actually seeing them and experiencing them are two completely different things. You make a mental note to check out the library before the day is over as you enter an elevator car with several other agents.

The electricity in your veins feels nearly tangible as you ascend to your dream. You note with an amused quirk of your lips that your internal energy seems a stark contrast to the yawns and sleepy gazes of the rest of the elevator. The 7th floor arrives in the blink of an eye, and you excuse yourself as you weave past a couple agents to exit the car. After a short navigation of the floor thanks to the clearly labeled and numbered signs, you finally approach the door to your division. Pronounced in bold, simple characters, the division code ‘S01’ stares at you from the door as you regard it, a slight lump forming in your throat as you take one last sip of your coffee. Thoughts fly through your head as you go through your mental checklist. Supervisor = Agent Kim Namjoo. Your hand is on the shiny chrome door handle. Mixed division. You’re turning it slowly. Potential for other recent graduates to be working here. Before you know it, the door is swinging open and-- “Ah!” You’re suddenly met with the startled yelp of a young woman, causing you to flinch as it snaps you out of your reverie.

The woman chuckles as she brings a hand to adjust her glasses, face quickly smoothing into a sweetly dimpled smile as she looks at you. “I am so sorry,” she begins upon seeing your startled expression, “you caught me totally off guard.” She laughs lightly. “I don’t believe we’ve met! You must be Agent Y/n. I’m your supervisor, Agent Kim.” She extends her hand to you as you blush, blurting out an apology before reaching out your own hand. “Sorry we couldn’t have met under more formal circumstances, but it’s really no problem as my office is right here anyway,” she explains, gesturing to a door to her right.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Kim! I’m really very excited to be here,” you let out a soft chuckle as you begin to regain your composure. Agent Kim flashes you another gorgeous smile that puts you immediately at ease.

“I’m so happy to hear that, Agent. If you wouldn’t mind following me into my office?” She begins making her way towards her office door. You quickly oblige, stepping into your supervisor’s spacious office. Agent Kim takes a seat promptly behind her desk, motioning for you to have a seat across from her.

“Hold on just one second.” Your supervisor begins typing away at the keyboard of one of her two computers and you take the brief moment to admire the immaculately trimmed bonsai tree perched next to her. However, your gaze quickly turns back to your supervisor as you can’t help but acknowledge how absolutely gorgeous she is. Her skin has all the warmth of the first golden hues of a sunrise. Brunette hair tied back elegantly, a few strands escape to frame the elegant slope of her face. Her jawline is pronounced without being too sharp, culminating in the graceful point of her chin. You flush slightly at your thoughts, mentally scolding yourself. Great. First day of work and you’re already simping over your boss. It’s not your fault you’ve had such a wonderful first impression of her. Everything about her presence immediately calms your racing heart and soothes any apprehensive thoughts that had crossed your mind on your journey into S01.

“Alright,” Agent Kim removes something from a desk drawer before setting it on the desktop and turning her attention towards you. “First and foremost, welcome to Division S01! Like I said, I’m your supervisor, Agent Kim. This is a mixed division, which I’m sure you’re already aware of as it seems you specifically requested it.”

You nod. In the Aether, there are generally three types of divisions that field agents work in. Each is composed of agents of all levels, from rookies like yourself to seasoned veterans. Some divisions are dedicated entirely to the more peaceful reports from around the city that are generally non-violent and consist of relatively minor disturbances. Nothing too serious, but due to their nature, these divisions see a lot of cases on the daily. In your time at the Academy, you’d interned on a few of these types of cases, one of them involving the containment of an alien squid horde that was interfering with the local fishing economy. Other divisions deal with the more intense, higher-magnitude cases. Often violent, these investigations require collaboration from multiple agents throughout the division as they look into paranormal serial murder, shape-shifting extraterrestrial identity theft, and the like. Divisions like yours, S01, are a hybrid. They get the best of both worlds and are well suited for agents who are capable of handling everything across the board, and, more importantly, for agents who want to take on that kind of responsibility. Since you graduated at such a high class rank at the Academy, you had no problem securing a spot in a mixed division such as this one.

“Now,” your supervisor picks up the item she had previously pulled from her desk. “This is your tablet.” She slides the device over to you. “All of your assignments and case files will be sent to you through this, and you’ll have access to a limited virtual library via our digital databases if you find yourself needing that kind of resource. Of course, you’ll use your agency-issued ID to login and it’ll give you full access!” She beams as you hold the tablet in your hands. “Your first assignment has already been sent to you, it looks like…” she trails off, turning to glance at her computer monitor. Your heart starts picking up again. You are literally holding your very first professional case in your hands!

“Do you know what level it is, or who I’ll be working with?” You can’t help the questions that bubble from your mouth. Agent Kim shakes her head.

“Unfortunately, that information comes from higher up, so until you open the file yourself I have no way of knowing the details of your field assignment,” she says with a shrug. Your stomach twists in anticipation, and you’re tempted to unlock your tablet and read through the entire assignment right then and there.

“Alright,” you say with a tentative smile. Agent Kim returns your expression.

“Now, do you have any questions before I show you to your office?” Her eyebrows lift as she looks at you expectantly. “Don’t be timid, I know I had plenty of questions when I became an official agent, but I have found that the Academy really does a spectacular job preparing agents for the field.”

“I do have a question, actually.” Agent Kim’s face immediately brightens. “Are there any other recent Academy grads other than myself assigned to this division?” You’re already aware that your closest friends from the Academy, Yubin and Jeongin, are stationed in different divisions, but you’re dying to know if anyone you recognize from your class at the Academy are in S01.

“Ah, yes. I figured you’d ask eventually. Agent Jeong Jaehyun has been here for about a week now, and Agent Jeon Jungkook started yesterday morning. They were both listed as having graduated with your class.”

You stiffen as soon as the name ‘Jeon Jungkook’ leaves her mouth. You aren’t very familiar with Jaehyun, but Jungkook… That’s a name you’ll never forget. Top of your class at the Academy, teacher’s pet, fuckboy, irritatingly pretty Jungkook.

“Oh!” you squeeze out through gritted teeth and a tense jaw. “Good to know! Thank you, Agent Kim.”

“Of course,” she replies with her warm smile that almost eases the growing knot in your stomach. “Would you care to see your office now?”

Your office isn’t huge, but it’s certainly functional. A large sleek metal desk occupies the bulk of the room, with an equally sleek office chair to match. You silently hope that it swivels. Apart from the desk and chair, a filing cabinet stands tall in the corner, in addition to a floor lamp. Another lamp sits perched on your desk beside two computer monitors and a telephone. A screen nearly identical to, albeit smaller than, the ones mounted in the atrium sits above your desk, the blue and red graphics of your city adding a touch of color not unwelcome in the otherwise very neutral room. Immediately, you begin considering ways to add your own personal touch to your workspace, inspired by Agent Kim’s bonsai tree.

Agent Kim explains the presence of dual computers, indicating that one is strictly for classified research purposes and details regarding any cases the agency might want to keep more under wraps than others, so to speak. “The screen,” she adds, gesturing to the wall, “can be used for any video conferences, calls, and the like within the Headquarters and nationwide, as well as providing the same information as the screens--I’m sure you noticed them--in the atrium.”

You nod as she continues to talk, all the while setting your bag on your desk and beginning to unpack your few personal belongings, including your diploma from the Academy.

“I suppose that’s about all you need to know about your office for the time being,” Agent Kim says after reinforcing that your agency ID will be your key to accessing your electronics. “Go ahead and start getting yourself settled, Agent Y/n. Agents Kang and Choi should be in the offices directly adjacent to you…” she trails off, seemingly trying to recall if those are the correct agents. “Anyway,” she claps her hands together, “If you have any questions, well, you know where to find me! Let me know if you need anything at all. I mean it.” Agent Kim once again gives you that calming smile. Her smile brings you a type of comfort you can’t quite explain, and you honestly couldn’t be happier with your supervisor so far. She’s warm and inviting, intelligent, beautiful, with an air about her that simply exudes leadership and command.

“Thank you, Agent Kim,” you match her smile.

With an amiable wave, she heads out. Your thoughts very quickly turn back to your assignment, and you scramble to sit at your office chair, which does in fact swivel, much to your delight, agency tablet grasped tightly in your hands. Questions race through your mind at the sight of the black mirrored surface, knowing what lies behind the locked screen. You figure the case will probably be something low-profile, as you are brand-new, but you really hope that it’s something more advanced You did graduate close to the top of your class... which brings your mind back to Jeon Jungkook. He had the honors of graduating first, and you’ll never forget that fact. You wonder what he’s been assigned, if it’s a more advanced case than is typical for rookie agents. You probably don’t want to know, however; it’ll only make you more upset if your assignment is comparatively mundane. At least you can rest in peace knowing that as a newbie, you’ll probably be paired with a more senior officer, and, with all of the agents who work in this division, the odds of running into Jungkook on a case are relatively slim. You hoped that after you graduated you’d never have to cross paths again, but alas, here you are. You sigh and run your fingers through your hair before focusing your attention back on the excitement of being here, your future literally in your hands. The closest you’ve ever been.

Finally unlocking the tablet, you’re greeted by a relatively simple interface that allows you to very easily navigate to your newly received assignment. The small folder icon sits amidst a sea of other completely unassuming icons, the tiny graphic completely unaware about the significance of its appearance to you. You open the file, trying to empty your mind of any expectations, and then… your heart sinks. At the very top of the document, next to your own, who else’s name do you see but Jeon Jungkook. Well, fuck.

You spend the better part of the next hour contemplating whether you should read the file by yourself or get your shit together and go track down Jungkook’s office so you can go over it together. Eventually, you settle for a quick skim, though the words barely stick in your mind as you find yourself somewhat preoccupied with thoughts about your partner. How are you supposed to work with him? You certainly don’t hate him, but you’ve always had your disagreements. And you’ll never forgive him for taking your spot in the class, not to mention breaking your best friend’s heart.

After absorbing as much information as your distracted mind can handle, which consists of a jumbled mass of something about a flower shop and floating objects, your rational professional brain gets the best of you, and you head to your supervisor’s office to inquire about the location of Jungkook’s--Agent Jeon’s--office. You have a job to do, and as much as you’re dreading facing Jungkook, you’ll get the job done, and you’ll get it done well. Just as you always have. And though you can’t stand Jungkook, he’s not useless.

You approach the doorway to Jungkook’s office, finding the door already ajar, before stopping to lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms with your tablet clasped in one hand. Jungkook is currently intently focused on one of his computer screens, face tense in concentration, chewing lightly on his lower lip. Tie hanging loose around his neck, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, jacket foregone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows with his long slightly wavy hair dangling in his eyes… yep. That’s Jungkook. You clear your throat and give a small knock on the threshold. Jungkook immediately shoots up. “Y/n!” He exclaims, eyebrows lifted, a goofy smile toying on his face. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, “I mean- Agent Y/N,” he says, face growing serious as he emphasizes ‘Agent’. “So,” he folds his hands dramatically on top of his desk. “What can I do for you?” You enter the room at last, mouth pursed in a firm line. “Agent Jeon,” you begin, taking a seat across from him. “It appears as though we have been paired together for our first assignment.”

“Oh, that’s right! I saw that. I already read the whole file. Simple stuff.” His hands are still perched steepled on top of his desk.

You gawk before realizing that of course he had gotten the file first; he’s been here since yesterday, and you figure that there was probably a fair amount of sucking up going on mixed in with, apparently, file reading. “You...already read the whole file? Were you ever going to come find me about it?” It’s about mid-morning at this point, pushing towards noon, and most agents are already well into their work days. You wonder what Jungkook has been up to all day if not coming to find you, but you suppose you can’t complain. Reading Jungkook’s name on your assignment with an hour to process that information before actually seeing him is a far better scenario than him randomly showing up at your office expecting you to work with him.

He shrugs. “I figured you’d come to me first once you found out about it and got settled. I asked her about you and she told me you’d be here today. I’ve been busy, and besides, it’s not like it’s a top priority case.”

How can he be so nonchalant about everything all the time while still managing to kiss nearly everyone’s ass? And what the hell has he been busy with? You smooth your hair back as you take a deep breath, mentally steeling yourself so as not to go off on Jungkook on your first day of work. No doubt, you’re still harboring several grudges from the Academy, but you’re a professional now. A professional. What a way to start your dream job.

“For future reference, if necessary, I would prefer that we go over the file together in detail first. This isn’t the Academy anymore, Agent Jeon. These are real people dealing with real problems and I’d like to be on the same page as much as possible at every given moment. Even if the case isn’t ‘top-priority.’”

Jungkook has been like this for about as long as you’ve known him, and although you are mere acquaintances, albeit rivals of a sort, everyone in your class at the academy was well-aware of Jeon “The Golden Boy” Jungkook’s disposition and ass-kissing tendencies. Top of your class, he always managed the best possible marks while seemingly caring about his work as little as possible. Showing his face at every party, event, club--you name it--available to him, you have no idea how he managed to get along as well as he did and continues to do. You suppose it’s probably due to his incredible charm, and some suspiciously large quantity of natural talent, not to mention his good looks. You may dislike him, but you aren’t blind. Naturally, his success always bugged you, as you constantly worked your ass off. Always trailing behind him, never quite catching up, like a dog chasing its own tail, you graduated second in your class. Years of hard work and careful studying, focusing nearly all of your attention on taking every possible opportunity available to advance your standing, was evidently not enough to best The Golden Boy. You always got the feeling he wasn’t too fond of you either, not that you really care. I guess the universe has a strange way of torturing you by assigning you two to the same division in the Aether.

“Noted.” Jungkook nods.

“What were you so ‘busy’ with anyway?” You can’t help yourself.

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, eyes shifting away from yours. “It doesn’t matter, Agent Y/n. Sorry I didn’t come get you earlier,” he says before clearing his throat, eyes meeting yours once more. You decide to let the matter go. Work awaits.

“Very well, Agent,” you say, eyeing him curiously. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go over the contents of the file with you so we both know what’s going on and we can go forward from there.” You put every effort of your being into injecting nothing but professionalism into your voice, even managing a small, tight smile.

“Fair enough,” he replies as you scoot forward in your chair and unlock your tablet as Jungkook does the same. Upon closer inspection of the document than earlier, you glean that the report comes from a Mr. Kim Seokjin who apparently owns a flower shop called Worldwide Bouquet downtown. He claims that his bouquets are disassembling themselves overnight which, understandably, is negatively affecting his business. He reports instances of his materials floating out of his reach, flowers being flung about his workspace, and the resulting frustration. Jungkook taps his fingers on the table as you scan the screen, one hand lazily scrolling through his own tablet.

“Sounds like some sort of sprig,” you mutter after perusing the report. Sprigs are one of the more docile paranormal creatures you’ve studied, typically materializing out of the playful spirit of a child. As a result, these spirits are typically very mischievous without malicious intent. Some have telekinetic abilities, some illusory capabilities and the like, but all in all, they are generally fairly easy to take care of and contain until their energy eventually dissipates into the atmosphere. At least, the Academy had taught you as much.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Jungkook offers. “A telekinetic one, most likely. Should be a quick job.”

You nod, slightly disappointed that you weren't going to be dealing with something a bit more exciting than a simple sprig, let alone dealing with it with Jungkook. The Aether probably isn’t too fond of handing off the more sensitive cases to newbies, even if you and Jungkook more than proved yourselves in the Academy. Too bad there isn’t too much about the case to actually discuss. You feel a bit foolish for making such a big deal about Jungkook not coming to you after he originally read the file as you feel your shoulders slump ever so slightly.

“See? Not top-priority,” Jungkook smirks. “You didn’t think they’d really give us something important for our first case, did you?”

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Yep.”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been hoping for something more, but it’s all important work Agent Jeon.” Besides, if you manage to execute this mission perfectly, considering working with Jungkook proves to be manageable, you’d hope that your next case will be of significantly higher status.

“Of course,” Agent Jeon says, tucking a stray strand of inky hair behind his ear. “The super important case of the floating flowers,” he snorts.

You scoff. “Can’t you take something seriously for once in your goddamn life, Agent Jeon? I will literally never understand how you managed as well as you did in the Academy.” Grabbing your tablet in preparation to leave and shaking your head, you stand up. Jungkook sits unbothered.

“Apparently not,” he retorts, folding his arms across his broad chest.

“Since you seem so blatantly disinterested in this case, I’ll just take care of it myself,” you huff. “Go back to whatever you were so busy with before, Agent.”

“Agent Y/n, we both know you can’t do that.”

He’s right. If you execute the mission by yourself without Agent Jeon, it wouldn’t reflect well on either of you, and you can’t risk compromising your image this early in your career. Especially if it meant you’d be stuck investigating nothing but sprigs for the next ten years.

A long sigh escapes you as you shoot a glare at Jungkook before sitting back down across from him. You force the fakest smile you think you’ve ever conjured.

“We’re going to stop by Mr. Kim’s later today to get the initial visit out of the way, okay Agent?” Your voice is thick with mock sweetness. “3:00, my office. I’ll be calling Mr. Kim and letting him know we’ll be checking in, kay?”

“Sounds great, Agent.” Jungkook returns your phony expression.

You stand up once more, this time with the full intention of actually leaving. “It was a pleasure, as always, Agent Jeon.” You straighten your jacket with one hand before promptly exiting, not bothering to close the door behind you. The last thing you hear is a prolonged, exasperated exhale. That makes two of us, you muse to yourself.

Upon returning to your office, you slump down in your chair, mind spinning with the incredulity of what just happened. You’re not sure at all how you’re going to manage working with Jungkook, especially since he seems so hellbent on being as difficult as possible. This is exactly what you were afraid of. The feeling, however, is probably mutual, so all you need to do is get through this. Hopefully after this you’ll never have to man a case with him again, even if you are still stuck in the same division.

Encouraged by that sentiment, swiveling ever so slightly back and forth in your chair, you manage to boost your mood just enough to finally be able to pick up the phone to call Mr. Kim.

Well, you sigh inwardly. This should be interesting.

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buckybeardreams · 3 years

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Unwanted

Chapters: 9/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Knotting

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Words: 1,612

"You're not unhappy that we bonded, right?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"If I was I wouldn't be curled up in bed right now after letting you fuck my brains out."

Steve smirked.

"I think you were the one doing the fucking. I just laid there while you rode me."

"Yeah, but next time I'm gonna make you do all the work and I'm just gonna lay there and be the pillow princess. Let my Alpha take care of me," Tony said, his fingers trailing down Steve's chest and a sultry pout on his lips. "You'd do that for me, wouldn't you, Alpha?"

"You know I'd do anything to please you, baby."

"I know, because you're such a good boy," Tony murmured, kissing him. "Mm, as much as I'd love to stick around and let you fuck me on every surface in your apartment, I really have to get going or I'm gonna be late."

"I'll drive you," Steve offered.

"You're sweet, but no, I'm good. If I take you with me I'm just gonna end up fucking you in the break room and then the manager is gonna be an asshole about it."

Steve growled.

"I hate that guy more every time you talk about him."

Tony hummed, kissing him again.

"Yeah, well, I think most bosses disapprove of fucking in the employee's room. Even the not asshole ones.

"No, I don't mean that. We definitely can't do that, no matter how much I like the idea of you bossing me around at your work. I just think this Obie guy sounds like the worst and every time I've run into him just confirms that."

Tony didn't even try to disagree with that assessment.

"Like last week when he gave you shit for having to leave early because of your heat. There are laws in place to protect Omegas from being forced to work while in heat, but you practically had to beg him for the days off and then apologize for not being able to work and he still gave you shit about it. Then he had the audacity to act like he had done you some great favor and made you work extra shifts to make up for it. He didn't even pay you overtime, even though he made you work like sixty hours."

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're getting yourself all worked up about it and I don't want that. I appreciate your concern, I really do, and I love that you're so protective. Which is honestly something I never thought I'd say, but you need to take a deep breath. I've got it all under control."

Steve tried to take a deep breath, tried to calm down like his Omega told him to, but it didn't do much to alleviate his anger.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just wish you didn't have to deal with him."

"Well, I won't have to for much longer."

Steve frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Tony shifted on his lap, looking down at his lap nervously.

"Well, I was actually gonna tell you about this, but we've just been so caught up in our own little bubble and I didn't want to burst it by bringing up legal stuff. Besides, I almost forgot about it with all the newly mated hormones rushing through me," Tony rambled.

"Tony, love, just tell me."

"We tried to get Obie fired, but the owner, Alexander Pierce, was backing him, so we're taking him to court. They've been doing a whole bunch of shady stuff that's totally illegal, from paying people off to pass inspections and dealing drugs out back in the alley, to denying us health insurance, making us work overtime but not paying us overtime, and usually they make the Omegas work during heat. I think Obie only gave in this time, because he thought you might beat his ass if he called me in for work."

There was an amused smile on Tony's face, but he was looking at Steve, worried about his reaction. Steve was furious, but not at Tony. He knew that Obie was an asshole, but he had no idea just how bad it really was.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn't have let you work for a guy like that. I'm your Alpha. I should have protected you, provided for you so you didn't have to work-"

"Hey, no, stop," Tony told him. "I love you so much, Alpha, but I don't want that. This was my battle to fight and I wasn't about to let you take that away from me. I've been dealing with this bullshit for years and now I'm finally changing things. You have to let me do this."

Steve felt awed by his little Omega. So much strength wrapped up in such a small little package it was unbelievable, and to think he was all Steve's. Steve kissed him, hard and lingering.

"I would never take that away from you, Tony. I wouldn't dream of doing something like that, pretty Omega."

A shy smile crept onto Tony's face and his cheeks turned pink.

"Thank you, Alpha. That means a lot, and I mean, there's no guarantee that the next person who buys the place will be any better than Pierce, or that they will hire us all on again. There's really no guarantee anybody will buy the place anytime soon. Realistically, it'll probably be bulldozed and turned into a parking lot for the diner next door or something like that. We all know that we're probably gonna lose our jobs, but it's worth it to do the right thing and put Pierce behind bars."

Steve nodded, licking his lips and considering how to say what he wanted to say in a way that wouldn't offend Tony.

"You know that I think you're so strong and I'm so proud of you for doing this, right?"

Tony bit his lip, nodding uncertainly.

He wasn't sure where Steve was going with this.

"I think it's amazing that you're gonna do this and that you want to do this and I'll support you in this in any way that I can," Steve told him earnestly. "I know that this is your fight, Tony, and I would never take that away from you, but if you'll let me, I'd love to fight alongside you."

Tony broke out in a grin, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck.

"Yes! Oh my God, yes!" Tony squealed. "Fuck, you scared me there. I thought you were gonna say something awful, but I should have known you'd just say something charming and perfect."

Steve blushed, but he was grinning too.

"Right, well, you see, the thing is Tony that I have a lot of money-"

Tony pulled back, raising a brow at him.

" You have a lot of money. You , the eighteen year old artist and former virgin until I seduced your ass Alpha, has a lot of money?" Tony asked him, clearly amused and not believing him one bit. "Tell me, pretty boy, what do you consider a lot of money? The twenty dollar allowance your mommy gives every Saturday?"

Steve glared at him, but there wasn't any heat in it. If anything he was just really embarrassed and really turned on.

"Sam helped me out a lot when I was a kid. He helped me turn my life around and he helped get my art into some galleries. He's got this friend, an ex of his, Pepper Potts. She's like a brilliant business woman and she runs her own company, but she also has a few major art galleries where she displays art from some of the most prominent artists in the states. I'm talking big shots, well known artists that make hundreds of thousands of dollars selling one painting."

Tony was just staring at him, like he was having a hard time figuring out if this was just some elaborate joke or not.

"Steve... what are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that she saw some of my work, loved it, and put it up in her galleries. I've only sold a handful, but I've made a lot of money. Your bar is not that great, no offense, and I don't really spend much of my money other than for, like, rent and groceries, so there's a lot of it just sitting around. We could probably just buy the bar. That is if you want to be an owner of a bar."

Steve swallowed hard and fidgeted nervously with the bottom of Tony's shirt when he didn't respond. Tony was just shocked and pretty sure he was dreaming.

"I'm sorry, what? You're joking, right?" Tony said in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you have hundreds of thousands of dollars just lying around?"

Steve squirmed under Tony.

"I mean, not literally. It's all in the bank. Most of it's in my savings account since it earns more interest that way-"

"Shut up, I don't care about that," Tony said, cutting off his nervous rambling. "Are you for real? You have that kind of money and you'd be willing to let me buy a bar with it?"

Steve bit his lip.

"Yeah, I mean, Tony, I'd do anything for you. So if you want a bar then I'll buy you a bar. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? It's a huge deal!"

Steve wasn't sure if he was upset or excited, but then Tony was wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Fuck, I love you so much. You know that, right?" Tony groaned against his lips.

Steve nodded, whimpering into his mouth when Tony kissed him again.

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hlupdate · 4 years

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The relationship between A-list muse and lauded designer is nothing new. But few have been as serendipitous that of Harry Styles and Alessandro Michele: the pop star’s solo career coincided neatly with the designer hitting his stride as the game-changing creative director of Gucci. Theirs is a mutually beneficial partnership that has elevated the former to new echelons of style, while the latter has become something of an icon to an unexpected fandom.

Unlike the large-scale productions of recent show seasons, Michele first presented his vision for Gucci with a quietly confident collection on 19 January 2015 — reportedly pulled together in just five turbo-charged days. The collection had all the signifiers of the retro-inspired aesthetic that has since become Michele’s beat, introducing the fur-lined loafers, pussy-bow blouses and florals that still form the backbone of his work today. A 20-year-old Harry, meanwhile, was still a long-haired One Direction member set to embark on the band’s biggest ever — and as it turned out last— tour. Just as One Direction’s days were winding down, Michele was picking up speed. Gucci reported a five per cent rise in sales in the last three months of 2015, amounting to 1.1 billion Euro in the final quarter.

Stylist Harry Lambert, who had been working with Harry for a few years by then, decided it was time for the boy-bander to try something new. A floral suit – that floral suit – from Michele’s spring/summer 2016 collection would be just the ’fit for the American Music Awards in November 2015, they decided.

Looking back it was a “very bold move,” Lambert admits. Styles was the first to take one of Michele’s full menswear looks from the Gucci catwalk and wear it on the red carpet. “It was very exciting to see everyone’s responses, but also how great he looked in it,’’ Lambert told Miss Vogueof what he still views as a turning point in his client’s fashion journey. This winning suit encouraged Styles and Lambert to pull more Gucci, and Harry gave his final performance as a member of One Direction wearing a suit in the retro petal print that defined Michele’s early collections.

In fact, Gucci was just about the only thing that the 1D alum carried over to his solo career. Even his shoulder-length curls were shorn. The music videos that accompanied Styles’s eponymous number one album, released in April 2017, all incorporated Gucci, as did his appearances on the promo trail. A navy tailored coat floats through the sky in the video for “Sign Of The Times”, and he wears floral tailoring in the clip for “Kiwi”. When the time came for Harry to take his record on the road, he wore countless bespoke Gucci suits on stage. Most were floral brocade with flared trousers, and paired with pussy-bow shirting.

By June 2018, the relationship had been formalised. Styles was revealed – in a series of photos taken by Glen Luchford in the suitably English setting of a chip shop – as the face of Gucci’s tailoring campaign. Two more campaigns followed, in which Styles models the most exuberant of Michele’s creations without ever sacrificing his schoolboy cheekiness, not even with a lamb slung around his shoulders. The campaigns, two by Luchford, a third by Harmony Karine, helped to usher in a new dawn in menswear advertising.

A year later Harry was unveiled as part of a diverse line-up in the campaign for Gucci’s Mèmoire D’une Odeur — the near century-old house’s first gender-neutral scent. Yes, he was the main event, but Styles shared the spotlight with other creatives in what became an unavoidable campaign, covering buildings, beauty counters, column inches and iPhone wallpapers across the globe. Styles has since quipped that he wears it to bed,making a bottle a necessary purchase for even half-dedicated Harry fans.

That Harry’s work with Gucci has proved so popular with his dedicated fanbase is a key component in the success of their collaborations. Though — and again, this is likely owing to Harry’s own allegiances — his followers do tend to have a keen interest in fashion compared to other fandoms, it’s down to their idol that Harries know the artistic director by his first name alone. “It is really exciting for us fans to see another facet of Harry as a creative individual, and his Gucci partnership cultivates that and gives us an even more in-depth perspective of who he is,” Nadhila, a 26-year-old fan in Indonesia told Miss Vogue.

Nadhila, who has been a part of the team behind the Twitter account @HSNewsUpdate since 2011, believes that the fluid nature of Michele’s vision has contributed to the interest in Harry’s Gucci looks. “There are no boundaries on what he might come up with, so fans are always excited to see what look [Harry] might step out in next,” she says. Styles’s efforts to be a fan-focused, ethical pop star – his motto is “treat people with kindness” – are relevant, too. “He has inspired us to be bold, unique and unafraid to experiment when it comes to fashion,” she adds. “He has shown us that there is no such thing as too feminine or too masculine, we can be both and we can be ourselves.”

Another of Harry’s biggest fan accounts, @TheHarryNews, is run by four women in their mid-twenties: Annie, Océane, Lena and Rachel. “You can really see the confidence he’s gotten from working with Gucci,” they share collectively over email. “[He’s] taking more risks and letting more of himself show… In a lot of ways we’ve seen Harry really come into his own. I think that really resonates with people, especially his fans, who get tiny pieces of [who he really is] through fashion.”

Two fans who have an almost encyclopedic knowledge of this fashion partnership are the transatlantic duo behind @HSFashionArchive. Since April 2016, London-based Lu and Washington DC-based Alex have documented every look worn by Harry in meticulous detail, all to act as “a resource for fans”. Its posts lets his followers know how they might go about procuring these items, but also sheds light on key house codes – thus enabling fans to quickly identify which of Harry’s looks are Gucci, and which aren’t. “We have noticed that fans buy the Gucci pieces that Harry has worn,” 29-year-old Alex explained. “Though some pieces are pricey, we’ve seen people buy the loafers, boots, and bags that Harry has sported over the years. Lots of our followers bought the £34 Gucci lipsticks he wore in Beauty Papers.”

The pair believes that the relationship works because Gucci is able to offer Harry such a broad spectrum of looks to choose from. “Gucci’s looks range from wearable to outrageous, so Harry’s continued partnership with Gucci guarantees both attainable style and flashy moments. There’s nothing like seeing him in a wild new outfit that we couldn’t have anticipated.” And though one might assume the scene-stealing suits are most popular with fans, according to Nadhila, they like his low-key looks best, given that “they show a more casual and intimate look into who he is as a ‘normal’ person”.

Of course, there is a notable exception: the 2019 Met Gala. For the opening evening of the “Camp: Notes On Fashion” exhibition Michele and Harry acted as co-hosts, and arrived on the pink carpet together. “After such a colourful tour wardrobe it was nice to do something a little unexpected,” Lambert told Miss Vogue of the black blouse Styles wore. “[It was about] taking traditionally feminine elements like the frills, heeled boots, sheer fabric and the pearl earring, but then rephrasing them as masculine pieces set against the high-waisted tailored trousers and his tattoos. Camp, but still Harry.” Lambert explained at the time: “We met up earlier this year to share mood boards with the Gucci team. We had pages of printed references all on the table from Alessandro, myself and Harry, then we edited them down.” Today, the @HSFashionArchive duo agree the night “was a massive deal amongst fans”.

There was the now pearl earring-wearing fashion darling of the music world, standing alongside the closest thing to a rockstar the fashion industry has at present. “I love dressing up and he loves dressing up,” Michele told The Face in 2019. “The moment I met him, I immediately understood there was something strong around him. I realised he was much more than a young singer. He was a young man, dressed in a thoughtful way, with uncombed hair and a beautiful voice. I thought he gathered within himself the feminine and the masculine.”

Since the Met, the relationship has continued to go from strength to strength. Styles wore a custom look on the cover of his second record, Fine Line, shot by Tim Walker, and Michele and Styles collaborated on a T-shirt to coincide with it, with a percentage of the sales going to the Global Fund For Women. Gucci’s high-waisted trousers, cropped blazers and dazzling shirting now takes up even more space in Styles’s wardrobe, and bring as much attention to the star as his sophomore record’s commercial and critical success.

Sightings of Styles in Gucci have become a source of comfort for fans in a turbulent 2020. From his Mary-Janes at the Brits to his oversized turquoise blazer and crochet gloves in the “Golden” video, by way of outré sunglasses and floral sunglasses in the clip for “Watermelon Sugar”, Harry’s recent sartorial choices have managed to be pleasingly familiar, while simultaneously keeping his followers on their toes.

A bit like the chicken and the egg conundrum, the question remains: is Harry very Gucci, or is Gucci very Harry? The verdict is out. But without each other, both might be missing a little something.

#harry styles #articles #111120

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morethanaprincess-a · 3 years

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Closed starter for @somnium-delicata !

Second Anniversary Starter Call - Accepting from mutuals. Please read the entire post!

With a package in her arms, wrapped in brown paper and of considerable weight, Princess Sonia of Novoselic had to be thankful for one thing as she stepped into the bustling crowd of Charing Cross Road: even if she couldn't travel to the likes of Spain, Germany, Austria, or Italy, she could at least look at sketches and, in rare cases, photographs of what she'd originally envisioned to be a proper World Tour.

Instead, she'd been sent only to the likes of Paris and London. The former, to be fitted for a proper stylish wardrobe (as if the tailors and seamstresses in the capitol weren't suitable enough) from Poiret, Vionnet, and Worth, and the latter to be presented to all manner of Polite Society. England still grasped the world firmly by its proverbial collar and demanded it straighten up and pay attention, from colonies in India to Americans that flooded the English ports, eager to take their new fortunes and mix them with old traditions.

Sonia, however, was in a place far more curious and unusual: The Kingdom of Novoselic was one of the few European nations left untouched by Queen Victoria and the House of Hanover. The long-standing monarch hadn't been prepared for how unwilling Novoselic had been to budge on the matter, choosing their own alliances and mostly keeping tight, regulated borders to protect their prosperity and strong military forces. But now, the current King and Queen found themselves in an unwelcome predicament: their daughter, the future monarch, had not only been given plenty of advantages her predecessors had been denied but had used such opportunities to put off (and in some view, fully disregard) her own expectations to create a new alliance for Novoselic through courtship and eventual marriage. Sonia had famously, politely, declined several offers to the point they'd run out of Novosonian (and French, and Italian) courtiers to put forth as eligible candidates for the princess. King Alexandre had been given no choice: he had to sway his daughter's interest in travel on the promise of a World Tour, when in reality she'd be sent to London, to the court of King Edward VII, to be presented before the British monarch and his Queen and take part, properly, in the London Season.

Weaving through the early afternoon crowds (and trying not to be distracted by every bookshop window), Sonia didn't mind too much: the English took great interest in museums and sport, with new exhibitions, displays, and matches unfolding all over the city and nearby countryside. London, compared to Novoselic at least, was vibrant: constantly changing and while it lacked the bohemian revolution that was unfolding in Paris, it had no shortage of socializing.

What grated on her, however, was the fact that the only topic of conversation most people seemed to care for was the genteel marriage market itself. Topics discussed in parliament, brewing disputes to the east, even the issues that plagued suffragettes were pushed aside for the likes of who had met whom, who had danced with whom more than once at the last ball, and who was seen promenading in Hyde or Regents Park. Theatre and books were equally relegated as to whom was seen indulging in either, too.

"It's not the Tour I imagined," She muttered. Even in the crowd, her pale blue silk walking skirt and white lace blouse stood out among the sea of grays, browns, and other muted tones. Most of the sophisticated set wouldn't visit the bookshops themselves and insist having tomes mailed to them, or send a maid: they weren't as fashionable as shops that sold elaborate lace and bottles of scent. But Sonia needed to pick up each volume, turn them over in her hands and peruse the first chapter or two herself before making her decision. Unfortunately, she hadn't taken the same amount of care as to where she was walking as she collided with another girl, blonde and, it seemed, with her own agenda for the day.

"Oh, I'm very sorry! Please excuse me," Sonia apologized, stepping to the side and careful to keep both the package and her reticule away from the crowd. "It's not a simple thing to navigate the London crowd, especially so close to Oxford Street."

#somnium-delicata #Non-Despair AU: Edwardian verse #(I hope this is ok!)#(I'm not familiar with the show your muse is from)#(So I leaned more into the time period and customs instead)

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365days365movies · 4 years

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February 24, 2021: Annie Hall (1977) (Part 1)

Well...Woody Allen.

I, uh...OK, look, I could get into the whole Woody Allen thing, but INSTEAD of me doing that, I’ll just say this: look into it. Because there is a LOT on this subject, and it’s controversial as HELL. At the end of the day, I’ll recommend this upcoming series on HBO, and just recommend that you look into it.

Because, uh...yeah, it’s not great. That’s all I’m gonna say, because I need to educate myself on it more as well. Instead, let’s talk for a few seconds about divorcing the art from the artist. But ONLY for a few seconds.

I understand why some of you might be surprised I’m doing this one. Because, again...Woody Allen. But, yeah, I always try to do my best to divorce the art from the artist. Because some people suck, but they still make nice things, or at the very least, things that should be open to interpretation and appreciation.

“Superfreak” is a classic song of 1981, and everybody’s heard at least some of it, but Rick James fuckin’ kidnapped two women and kept them in his basement, WHERE HE TORTURED THEM. Edgar Degas made beautiful paintings of ballet dancers, and was also A MASSIVE ANTI-SEMITE. And before he was (RIGHTFULLY AND JUSTIFIABLY) outed as a roofie-ing piece-o-shit...I grew up with - and genuinely enjoyed - this guy’s comedy.

And you can judge me for this, but...I still think his stand-up was and is genuinely funny, and I still appreciate the cultural impact that The Cosby Show had on society’s perception of African-American families, divorced from the stereotype of the ghetto. Fact of the matter is, works themselves deserve to be separated from the artist who made them. That’s my philosophy, and I’m sticking with it Entirely fine to disagree with me, by the way, I get it.

But in that spirit, I’m watching Annie Hall, despite its creators likely transgressions. After all, this is technically his magnum opus, and it’s a good look into the man himself. And so, with that in mind: Annie Hall! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

youtube

Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) is talking directly to us about his outlook on life, and his view on the potential future. He tells half of a joke, then an amusing anecdote, and a bit more until telling us that he’s broke up with Annie, and he’s still thinking about it, trying to figure out exactly where things went wrong. He goes back to the beginning, which is punctuated with flashbacks.

He grew up in Brooklyn in World War II, and a young Alvy (Jonathan Munk) is with his mother (Joan Newman) at the doctor’s. He’s depressed after learning that the universe will one day end after a period of expansion, and is having his first real existential crisis. I had mine around the same age, actually, went I learned that the Earth will one day get swallowed by the sun. And THEN came the realization that I’d be dead by that point. AND THEN came the realization that I’d die one day, and that was a WHOLE NEW crisis to...anyway.

He grew up under the Coney Island rollercoaster according to him (although his analyst says that he exaggerates), and that’s what he blames for his “nervous personality. He’s also got an active imagination, often blurring fantasy and reality. His Dad ran the bumper cars on Coney Island (a place that I’ve never been, but desperately want to go).

He continues on talking about his former schoolmates, and not really that well. While in class, young Alvy kisses a...little girl...ahem. And then, when reprimanded by the teacher, current Alvy notes that he was always...like that...and he also says this to the little girl, and they talk about Freud’s latency period, and Alvy said he never...had...one...that’s uh...that’s fuckin’ SOMETHING, now isn’t it?

OK, well, shoving that forcefully aside as hard as I can, Alvy wonders aloud on where his classmates now, and one of them says this:

This also involves a little girl saying she’s “into leather,” which is...awkward as FUCK, but WE’RE GONNA MOVE THE FUCK ON. Alvy recounts his paranoia, and was so even after he became a famous comedian (which we say after a VERY good joke about qualifying for the army as a hostage). He speaks to a friend, Rob (Tony Roberts) about potential anti-Semitism from a person in a passersby meeting, then heads to meet Annie.

Annie Hall (Diane Keaton) arrives at a movie theater, late and in a bad mood. The two are late to their intended film, argue briefly, then head to another film that they’ve already seen, The Sorrow and the Pity. In line, they’re in front of a man loudly soliloquizing on film, much to Alvy’s annoyance.

Annie and Alvy continue to argue a bit, while Alvy openly berates the casual film critic. In the middle, he talks to the audience about it, only to be followed by the crtiic himself, who also acknowledges the audience! Huh! Anyway, he’s a professor at Columbia, and starts continuing his line speech, this time on the work of Marshall McLuhan, one of the most important early media theorists ever. And then, Alvy brings out Marshall McLuhan (Marshall McLuhan) to debate him on it, only for Alvy to turn to the audience and wish aloud that life could really be like this!

I’m beginning to understand why people like this film. It’s metacontextual before metacontextuality was really a thing in film. It’s a fourth-wall breaking movie in some fantastic ways. But will it still hold its muster after breaking the fourth wall’s become so commonplace? we’ll see, I guess.

After a showing of the film, the two return home, and Alvy tries to initiate sex. But Annie’s not really into it at the moment, and Alvy complains that they used to have sex all the time, and it’s been a while since. So, I guess that retroactively awkward scene at the school was meant to foreshadow Alvy’s high libido, that will probably cause some conflict in the film. Anyway, Annie notes that Alvy once went through something similar with Allison, his first wife. Who’s Allison? Flashback!

Allison Portchnik (Carol Kane) is a graduate student in political science, working for a campaign that Alvy’s about to perform for. He’s nervous, as he’s going on after another comedian. She comforts him by saying that she thought he was cute, and he does well. But we flash-forward to a night after they’re married, shortly after the death of JFK, which Alvy’s obsessing over, entertaining various conspiracy theories.

However, Allison rightly points out that his obsession is simply a way for him to avoid having sex with her, which mirrors the present-day situation him him and Annie. Flash forward TO Alvy and Annie, and there are just lobsters...everywhere, on the floor in their kitchen. After that commotion, they talk about Annie’s past romances.

And by talk about, I mean they LITERALLY WALK THROUGH her memories. And I gotta say...I fuckin’ love this method of storytelling. One of her previous boyfriends is an actor (John Glover), and his over-dramatic prose sickens Alvy. We see a second marriage of Alvy’s to New Yorker writer Robin (Janet Margolin), who’s dragged him to a stuffy high society party of intellectuals that he has no interest in going to. Same her, Alvy. I bet the caviar’s canned.

He tries to initiate sex with her - in the middle of the party, mind you - and she turns him down. later, when they get to it in their apartment, she’s unable to, uh...reach satisfaction. From there, we flash-forward after that marriage ends to a tennis match with Rob, where he meets one of his mutual friends: Annie Hall.

And for the record, Annie’s pretty obviously got a crush on him, and she’s adorable as fuck. Also, that outfit, real talk...that outfit rules. She offers to give Alvy a list, during which he’s quite worried about her driving, but the two still get along well enough. Annie’s an amateur photographer, during a time period where photography is considered a relatively new art form. The two go to her apartment, and share familial anecdotes and personal stories about themselves. And as they talk, we also see a set of subtitles on top of each of them that betray their inner feelings and thoughts.

I do genuinely like the stylings of the movie, goddamn. This conversation leads to Alvy asking her out on a date, although they end up scheduling it after Annie auditions at a nightclub as a singer. And while it doesn’t go great, Alvy tells her she was fantastic, and they share a kiss before they head to dinner. They head to her place afterwards, and we cut to later that night, post-coitus.

And then, we get a flash-forward back to the next day, where the two are at a bookstore, and Alvy speaks on his personal philosophy of life.

I'm obsessed with uh, with death, I think. Big - big subject with me, yeah. I have a very pessimistic view of life. You should know this about me if we're gonna go out. You know, I - I feel that life is - is divided up into the horrible and the miserable. Those are the two categories, you know. The - the horrible would be like, um, I don't know, terminal cases, you know, and blind people, crippled. I don't know how they get through life. It's amazing to me. You know, and the miserable is everyone else. That's - that's - so - so - when you go through life - you should be thankful that you're miserable because you're very lucky to be miserable.

Iiiiinteresting.

Shortly into their relationship, they admit they’re in love (or “lurve”, as Alvy says). She moves in with Alvy, which he initially isn’t the biggest fan of, having been burned in two previous marriages And already, their relationship is showing a few bumps. Alvy’s also always trying to push her to take college classes, while she uses mariuana whenever they have sex, which Alvy doesn’t agree with.

But as they have sex one night, without the marijuana at Alvy’s urging, Annie’s mind wanders - LITERALLY.

This film...this film has a VERY unique style of visual storytelling, and I am HERE for it! Seriously, I genuinely love this method of storytelling and comedy, it’s extremely engaging to me.

Soon enough, Alvy gets an interview to write for a talk show host, which he ABSOLUTELY despises. But in doing so, he decides to go into stand-up for himself, and is actually quite successful at it! But before we get to that, we’re at the halfway point! See you in Part 2!

#annie hall #woody allen #diane keaton #tony roberts #carol kane #paul simon #shelley duvall #christopher walken #romance february #romance movie #romcom #romantic comedy #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year

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ourimpavidheroine · 4 years

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Okay, @peoniequeen, here are your stories.

How many people do you know moved across the world for love?

Well, you all know about this one. I met my late wife online in late 1998 on an X-Files message board, we emailed and then called, etc. until she came to the U.S. from Finland in September of 1999 to live with me for a year. After the year was up we relocated to Finland, in part because she could not legally immigrate to the U.S. during that time as a same-sex partner (Finland was a huge fucking pain in the ass about it but eventually they let me immigrate there based on our relationship status) and in part because we thought Finland would be a better place to raise kids due to healthcare, schools, etc. When I arrived in Finland it was the first time I had even been to Europe, never mind the country I was going to live in and the airline accidently left my two dogs in Amsterdam instead of putting them on the plane to Helsinki and I spent my first moments in my new home sobbing about my dogs until the very nice airline lady called for my late wife over the loudspeaker and let her come back and take me in hand (much the way Mako takes Wu in hand, if you must know). (Don’t worry, the airline put us up in a hotel next to the airport and the dogs came on the next flight and came to us there in a taxi the airline made arrangements for. They were completely fine and in fact weren’t sure what the fuss was about.) It was kind of a big culture shock. The end.

Or worked as a college radio DJ?

I did! I had a show on Tuesday mornings from 4-6 am that nobody listened to but about 10 loyal people. (Kind of like my blog here, come to think about it.) I played a lot of old blues and jazz stuff that I’d grown up listening to. My Dad worked part time as a DJ at a local radio station so I knew how to work all the equipment and such thanks to him. (I also had a two hour slot on Wednesday nights there in high school where I played stuff teenagers wanted to listen to and not the never ending country western that the station owner and manager wanted played 24x7.) Yes, this was in the late 80′s-early 90′s when I was at university so it was all vinyl. I still have a collection of albums that have the gold stamp on them saying they are not for sale, that they are for radio station play only! (Some of them the aforementioned station manager gave me since they were not country and he was basically going to toss them into the trash and some of them were albums that I might have gotten through less altruistic means.)

Or was a makeup assistant to Drag Queens?

I took a stage makeup course while I was majoring in theater at University and did so well with it that the guy who gave the class asked me to come and assist him at the San Francisco opera while they were essentially painting all of the singers brown in a classic racist move that was pretty well accepted in the 90′s but, thankfully, would be extremely frowned upon now. As I was doing it I struck up a friendship with one of the chorus tenors; it turned out he was a drag queen who sometimes did performances when he wasn’t doing opera. He was a Madonna impersonator (not a very good one, sorry to say) and he wanted me to help him design his makeup for it. So I went to the club he performed at a few times to get a better feel for how drag queens worked and then hung around backstage and ended up doing some designs for some of the other queens. The pay was basically me getting to see their performances for free and getting fed afterwards at whatever was open at 4 am but God it was fun. Also, now I am the most Judgy McJudgerson of ever when it comes to drag makeup on RuPaul’s Drag Race. The end.

Or wrote a letter to their Archbishop when they were twelve and got a personal answer in return?

I was very put out by the fact that boys could be altar boys but girls got shit (I was Catholic, in case you haven’t guessed) and I was talking about it to my Grandma one time and she told me I should write a letter to the Archbishop and ask him why. Now see, my maternal Grandmother was married to a labor union president (my grandfather was still the president when he died of a heart attack when I was 8) and she was a good old fashioned liberal rabble rouser. Like, she got arrested with nuns protesting nuclear power plants in her muumuus and Birkenstocks, okay? She wrote letters to EVERYONE. So I sat down and very carefully wrote the letter and my Grandma made a few calls and got me the address and we sent the letter. I don’t think my Grandma actually thought I’d get a letter back (it was more of a teaching moment, if that makes sense) but he did send me a letter back! He was very kind, although his answer was the usual Catholic BS. I still have the letter but it is packed away in storage so I very sadly will not be producing it at this juncture in time.

Or drove from Los Angeles to Philadelphia in a 20 year old Volvo?

My friend from university was going to Grad School at Temple University and her parents didn’t want her to drive the entire way by herself. So I drove with her in an orange 1971 Volvo sedan. (In fact, I drove about 90% of the trip because she didn’t like driving.) The air conditioning fan died as we were driving through the Mojave Desert on the way to Vegas and I realized that if I floored it the cool air would actually move itself and so I floored it all the way through the desert and we are lucky that fucking ancient hulk of Swedish steel did not die and leave us stranded to be baked to death. We stopped in Vegas (which was not as impressive in 1992 as it is today, trust me) and found a guy who could actually fix the fan and spent the night in one of the casino hotels before continuing on. We did stop in Chicago to stay with her grandparents for two weeks (where so many elderly Jews kept responding to my last name with confusion as they assumed I was Jewish that I eventually started to do genealogy and found out that I am, indeed, Jewish on my father’s side) and also we saw the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer film in Des Moines and went to a cowboy bar in Cheyenne (I learned how to line dance and my friend got completely trashed and I had to practically carry her back to the hotel) and many other adventures until we finally arrived in Philly and her parents flew me back to California. It was a great road trip and short of the reeeaaaally sketchy and filthy motel room in Salt Lake City that had both a half-empty Chinese takeout box and a soiled condom under the bed we had a grand time.

Or was part of a thruple?

I have been part of two thruples. Well. Sort of. One thruple and one wanna be thruple. The first one, with my first husband and my girlfriend was a huge mistake from the get-go. (Oh god, she was so hot and the sex was so fucking good but she was really an awful person and my ex kept trying to control the entire thing and basically forced her into living with us instead of being just my girlfriend with benefits and the entire thing blew up and while it wasn’t the reason why I divorced him it didn’t help either.) The second one was with my late wife and our mutual boyfriend and it worked very well but he had a little boy from a former relationship and his son got very ill and died and he didn’t handle it at all and he disappeared out of our lives. It’s been 20 years, give or take, since I’ve talked to him. He asked us to no longer contact him and I’ve always respected that. And before you ask, he knows where I live and my email address is the same as it was all those years ago. If he wanted to find me it would be very easy for him to do so. He clearly doesn’t and I respect that. I wish him love and peace, wherever he is. I miss him still.

Or beat up the drunk lady in the hallway to get back a little girl’s keys?

Ah, I’ll tell this one tomorrow.

#impavid storytime #long post #do you guys really find these interesting?#I'm not fishing for compliments #I honestly never think of myself as being that exciting

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