#best guest

[svu-bracket]

finals (round 11)

THE TOP TWO ACTORS IN THIS POLL WILL MOVE ON TO THE FINAL CHAMPIONSHIP ROUND NEXT WEEK!

descriptions under the cut

judith light -> appeared in 25 episodes over 9 seasons as bureau-chief-turned-judge, elizabeth donnelly. famous hater of the girls (alex cabot + casey novak). also famously almost died in zebras. last time we see her is in season 12, behave with jennifer love hewitt.

ellen burstyn -> appeared in the season 10 episode, swing. elliot's mama. recurs on organized crime.

andre braugher -> appeared in six episodes over 3 seasons as defense attorney bayard ellis. when he came around the squad knew they fucked it. Liv did call him to represent simon and his wife when they got busted with weed (child's welfare).

[vengeancevixen]

Fun at Mike’s wedding!

[theonyxranger]

I understand

[mizgnomer]

David Tennant - Throwing his Head Back with Laughter - Part Four

[ Part One ] [ Part Two ] [ Part Three ]

[olyphant-tim]

THE GUEST (2014) dir. Adam Wingard

[r-aindr0p]

Huh... I wonder....

I will not elaborate further on their shenanigans

[pallanophblargh]

Wake up, new cryptid just dropped!

It’s true that I’ve had to reimagine my day to day life since we got her, but I can’t imagine how we got this lucky. We thought we would have to work to earn her love, but from the moment she entered our house it’s been a cuddlefest, one I couldn’t possibly deny. There are hurdles she will be facing to be sure (and she will still need to meet the cats face to face) but I’m so happy to see this happy lil cheese every day. Welcome home Raclette!

(The couches will always be hers, even if it means she does try to smush whatever I’m working on at the time!)

[addictivecontradiction]

Best in show, 2000

[respectthepetty]

I am a MosBank Truther!

I do not hate all fan service. I think it's good to see men casually touch each other in public AND get paid to do it. My favorite pairs for fan service are MaxTul, who WILL return to me one day; YinWar, who understand the "Business Gay Performance" concept; JoongDunk, who are my GMMTV fighters; and MosBank. But unlike all of these other 200 branded pairs running around in BL Land, I actually think MosBank are a real couple, and I truly believe that they are already married. *looking you directly in your eyes* I'm serious. And I have thirty images from their recent appearance on the Har Tum Show to prove it.

But first, if you are not familiar with this show, Eclair is the host and she invites guests over to cook while she shit talks, and babygirl is quick. Jes and Bible from 4 Minutes were recently on, and while Jes matched Eclair's energy as this was his second appearance on the show, Bible was lost in the sauce, which only made their appearance even more delightful. And the reason is because homegirl casually drops sex jokes and snappy quips into the conversation, so guests must be on their toes to keep up.

AND MOSBANK CAME PREPARED!

Bank and Mos already know Eclair. Bank knows her from college, and Mos knows her from mutual friends *cough* Bank *cough* so they got down to business quick, and by business, I mean dick jokes. They are making deep-fried shrimp sushi, so Bank immediately holds the cucumber to size it up, and Eclair jumps into Bank's blowjob skills after briefly discussing how many shrimp are in the meal. +2 for talking about oral sex five minutes in.

This prompts Bank to sing "Part of Your World" from The Little Mermaid (in English) because it ties into the discussion of the ingredients needed for the meal (shrimp, seaweed, salmon) and blowjobs. No points given because even though Bank can sing, Ariel doesn't deserve to take strays about blowjobs.

Mos discloses that Bank's family owns a durian farm, so the queer movie of the moment The Paradise of Thorns gets mentioned, but Bank throws in his critique that they are more like The Paradise of Scorns. +2 for Bank's wittiness and Mos' sensible chuckle

Then Bank reveals that he is the one who scouted Mos for Star Hunter because he was thirsting over Mos' pictures on social media. +4 because Bank . . . same. I, too, would slide into Mos' DMs after perusing his socials.

As the conversation continues, both men confess that they hated school, but Bank is the smarter one on paper ONLY because he knew he wanted to be an actor and didn't want to appear dumb, so he got tutoring to get rid of his country accent and up his grades, while Mos only got his grades up because his mom sent him to an all-boys school in Bangkok 💀 Eclair is surprised because she thinks Bank plays up the "dumb-blonde" persona, and they joke that's a good thing because he can get away with it. +6 for Mos and his all-boy school

And then we get into the domesticity! Mos and Bank have randomly mentioned they live together throughout the years, so Eclair starts asking questions about their home life. Mos likes to do the chores. Bank likes to shop.

Eclair thinks Bank would feel guilty for not helping Mos with the chores, but both men correct her that Mos likes doing these things, and if Mos was her boyfriend, he'd gladly do it for her too. +10 because Bank does not cook nor does he clean, but he got that ring!

Because Mos seems too perfect to be true, Bank throws him under the bus and admits it bothers him that Mos doesn't say he loves people or misses them NOT EVEN HIS PARENTS OR FAMILY! -2 only because Bank brings this up every year in their Valentine's Day videos, and Mos still is tight-lipped.

But he quickly recovers because he says Mos isn't a man of too many words and actually shows his love through actions, like buying him a Celine bag and other stuff that he cannot mention even though Eclair pressures him to share. No points given

Eclair asks if either one of them gets upset easily, but specifically targets Bank since he is known for having an attitude in their travel videos when he is hungry or tired. +2 to Eclair for being shady

Once they sit down to enjoy the meal that Mos has basically single-handedly made for them, the conversation gets sad when Bank mentions he just wants a good life for his parents and how he misses his grandma, who was his biggest supporter but died during the pandemic so he didn't get to see her before she passed.

It's a heavy moment, but Eclair spins it and asks Mos if he has any sad tales to tell, to which Bank immediately answers that Mos' family is nothing but happy vibes and good times. +1 for the look exchanged between Bank and Eclair because people who have happy families make us all a little sick.

Eclair latches on to the fact that Bank answered the question about Mos' family, and Mos casually responds that Bank would know because he has met his family, several times, since he goes home with Mos, each time. +4 because this is the domesticity that has me convinced they are already married since they are holding hands under the table.

From the way Mos is talking, it's clear the boys stay AT his parents' house when they visit, so Eclair asks if Mos' mom ever hears them.

Mos, in a serious voice, instantly replies that they are quiet.

Bank bursts into laughter, but Eclair isn't done and wants to know what quiet things are done quietly, so Mos offers the only acceptable answer - "Whatever Bank wants" +100 points for Mos being perfect

The conversation gets back to the original point of Bank visiting Mos' family and the guys talk about the first time Bank went home with Mos. The aunties were aflutter when they saw Bank with Mos and because Mos comes from a small community, the entire village practically knew before they even got to the house.

They even recreate the aunties on the street breaking their necks to get a glimpse of Mos' rich boy. +3 for the way the boys deliver it

When they were walking the streets or at the market, they knew people were talking about them (out of curiosity), but whenever Mos or Bank would acknowledge them, the aunties would scatter. +1 for knowing that small town talk is not a negative thing but a way of sharing news

Everywhere they went, people would already know who Bank was because the chisme was running rampant! +2 because the boys are telling the hell out of this story and they are telling it TOGETHER, like both are telling it at the same time. It's glorious!

And since we understand that they were staying AT the parents' house, it seems as if they were also staying in the same room since Grandpa came to collect them once aunties started standing outside of the house wanting to take pictures with them. +2 since Mos is thrilled that Bank was so popular with his people

After the story, Eclair puts on her business cap and opens the door for the guys to talk about their various projects and socials, but the lady is a professional who can turn anything into a sex joke.

MosBank have a YouTube channel called Mong Biew which is a play on their names, but Eclair asks if it's a play on "Bong Biew" which apparently means tilted, and at first I thought she was making a straight/gay joke, but nope! It's a dick joke because Mos proudly declares that it's straight!

And I'm giving Mos another +100 points because this kid gets it! I thought Bank was going to easily steal the show, while Mos was busy cooking, but Mos is just as quick and snappy with his comebacks. He isn't just a Instagram thirst trap! The boy's got moxie!

Because this is still business, the guys give their product placement spiel for an anti-bloat mix, Air-X, and Eclair quickly turns capitalism on its head when she gets Bank to admit he farted on set during one of his romantic scenes with Mos. +4 points to Eclair for making a product placement hilarious and getting the chisme!

And the show wraps up with Eclair giving Air-X another spotlight as she states it's the second item Bank would pack for a trip AFTER HE PACKS CONDOMS!

2000 POINTS TO MY FAVORITE MARRIED COUPLE because we all win when the aunties approve of the boyfriend and Eclair can get a good dick joke or ten out of it!

[dumpster-fire-sapphic-failgirl]

One thing about Laura Bailey:

She respects consent. Not just physically. But emotional consent too. She might make the most adorable blurbo every, one specifically aimed at romancing a character, but if the player isn’t into it she gives them plenty of room to back out. (based on C2 and C3, I haven’t seen C1)

Winning isn’t kissing the other player and having them accept it. Winning is having them kiss your character and mean it.

—————

Side note, I gotta acknowledge how cute Laura’s “I know, I’m sorry!” response to Marisha’s “I made a dead lady who was unromanceable!” statement

it means that their session zero involved Laura sitting there as Marisha described their friendship and closeness and was thinking the whole time “I’m gonna make a Sapphic that is going to Pine So Hard”

And honestly I think she, as a player, would have been delighted to play the heartbreak of being rejected. To take that leap and fall flat? BAFTA award winning actress Laura Bailey not making something amazing out of that? No fuckin way.

[honeybuckin10]

Code Blue - a Hawks x fem!lawyer!reader One Shot

Summary: Pre-Meta Liberation Army Arc. A hero’s birthday party on a night off blurs the lines of professionalism between the Commission’s rising junior prosecutor and a certain winged hero when secrets are exchanged [wc 5.2k (I'm so sorry)].

Warnings (nsfw): swearing, drinking, workplace romance, mutual pining, angst and fluff, everyone’s a dummy, mature themes, smut-ish, heavy petting. Characters slightly aged up (mid-late 20’s).

a/n: first time writing for Hawks and/or MHA, would love feedback. please don't be a ghost reader!

Nights off for heroes were few and far between. So when they did happen, usually all Hawks wanted to do was catch up on much needed sleep. But it was Best Jeanist’s birthday, which was how he found himself begrudgingly ordering a round of drinks at the bar for the handful that had gathered to celebrate their friend and colleague.

For the sake of Best Jeanist, he did his best to hide the fact that he was in sensory overload. His feathers only amplified the already deafening bass of the live band, coupled with the loud conversations, and the clinking of dishes, glasses, and silverware.  

“Happy birthday! Sorry I’m late,” he heard the squeaky voice behind him. He turned around to see you giving the birthday boy a friendly hug before handing him a small gift bag with a card sticking out. You were a prosecutor for the Hero Public Safety Commission’s District Attorney's Office. Due to the nature of your work, you crossed paths frequently with heroes to gather evidence and build case files to justly put away villains.  

The first time Hawks met you, you bumped into him in line at the Public Records Department on the second floor of the courthouse. Literally. Your face was buried deep in a case file, the *click clack* of your heels echoing as they hit the linoleum floor. Not paying attention, you walked right into Hawks’ wings, causing you to drop the plethora of papers in your arms.

-

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention!” you said, not even realizing at first who exactly you had bumped into, though you did think it was odd that you had to spit out a feather.

The halls of the courthouse, like any government building, were unfriendly, bureaucratic and slow. Annoyed, he was going to tell you to watch it. The words began to form in his mouth, but fizzled when he turned around and saw you crouched down awkwardly trying to gather all your papers, your range of motion clearly limited by your stiff skirt suit and precariously balanced in your heels. At one point your hair was probably pulled back in a sleek bun, but more than a few strands were now falling out of place. He felt bad. So instead of telling you off, he knelt down to help you pick up whatever was left on the floor.

“It’s ok, these things can be hard to miss sometimes.”

Confused, you looked up to meet golden irises and a sly smirk. Your already rosy cheeks deepened from pink to red upon realizing who was in front of you.

“Oh my God. Mr. Hawks Sir. I’m so sorry.” You immediately got to your feet, straightening out your posture. Your eyes fell from his face to the very prominent crimson wings that hung majestically behind him. You grimaced. “Wow I guess I was really out of it.”

“No worries.” He handed you back the rest of the strewn files, your fingers just grazing. “So… come here often?”

He earned a small laugh from you, finally able to put you at ease somewhat even if only for a moment. “No… or yes? I’m not really sure yet. This is my first case.” A newbie lawyer, of course. You gave a strained smile, but the furrow in your brow gave your nerves away.

“Ah, welcome to hell. Prosecutor or public defender?”

“Prosecutor.” He smiled.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other, then.”

“I hope so.” Ever the professional, he was sure you didn’t mean for it to come off as anything more than introductory pleasantries. But he couldn’t help the little beat his heart skipped that caused his wings to flutter slightly. He hoped you didn’t notice.

“NEXT!” The voice of the elderly woman at the front desk boomed, hoarse from years of yelling and cigarettes. Hawks took one more look at you as your eyes kept darting to your watch.

“Why don’t you go ahead of me?” he offered. He could have introduced you to Beyonce and he was sure he wouldn’t have gotten the same reaction. You looked like a little kid on Christmas morning, but you did your best to hide your eagerness.

“Are you sure Mr. Hawks?”

“I’m in no rush, I insist. And please, just Hawks.”

“You’re holding up the line, you have five seconds to decide before I’m kicking you both to the back,” the old lady deadpanned. You looked at each other, eyes wide, both biting back shit-eating grins.

“You heard her,” he said. He took a step back, bowing slightly with an arm extended to motion you through.

“Thank you,” you mouthed wordlessly to him as you slid past.

“Good luck.”

-

That was almost two years ago. Since then, you picked up more high-profile cases, including the arrest and sentencing of Stain and had begun to make a name for yourself as a rising junior prosecutor. Two years of various long and agonizing depositions, witness prep, thousands of boxes of files combed through, late night arraignments. Almost two years of brushing elbows in the trenches, and this was his first time seeing you outside of a work setting. But for your voice, he wasn’t sure if he would have recognized you.

Your hair, free from its ordinary confines, fell effortlessly down your shoulders and framed your face perfectly. Sure, occasionally he thought about what your body might look like out of a suit, but the reality was better than anything else his imagination could concoct. Had you always had curves there?

Hawks had always thought you were pretty. But being the Number Two Hero with a predominantly female fan base, he wasn’t necessarily phased by looks. What did phase him was that big brain of yours. You wouldn’t be good at your job if you weren’t insanely intelligent with a work ethic to boot. Hawks realized he had a crush on you after the first time he saw you try a case in person. It was a trial for one of the villains he had taken down and you enlisted him as a witness. Seeing you in court charm every single juror in your opening and closing statements, expertly cross-examining hostile witnesses, keeping your cool in the face of a disrespectful opposing counsel – that’s what got his heart going a mile a minute.

So now here you were in the wild, not in a suit, saying hello to everyone like the social butterfly you were. Your exposed skin was like the answer to a riddle he didn’t know he was trying to solve. He tried not to stare, staring was rude. Staring was also causing his wings to have a mind of their own, puffing up and fluttering away ever so slightly. He turned his back again to hide them, and took a sip of beer trying very much to go unnoticed.

“Um, excuse me ma’am. I’m going to need to see some license and registration for the absolute dump truck you got behind you,” said a devilish Mirko after tapping your shoulder. Your laughter rang out, cutting through the other noise in the bar. Hawks tried to pretend he didn’t hear it, though the corners of his mouth threatened to tug a smile out of him. She’s not wrong.

“Hawks, doesn’t y/n look good in this ‘fit?” He didn’t know how or when, but he was going to kill Mirko. He blamed it on her sixth bunny sense that she’d somehow sniffed out his feelings for you - though it was probably the fact that she noticed he stopped entertaining one-night stands months ago.

“Mirko, have you considered that y/n would like to have a night out without being harassed?” Even in the dim lights of the bar, he could tell your cheeks were flushed. And despite the nonchalant act he was trying to put on, he was sure his face was about the same.

“Hey, I was just giving a compliment,” the bunny said mischievously. She gave Hawks a wink as she backed away, but not before mouthing “If you don’t fuck her, I will.”

“Hi,” you said cheekily, blissfully unaware of the chaos around you.

“Hi Counselor,” he said, no longer able to contain his smile. He dipped down to give you a hug, hoping the way he inhaled your perfume went undetected. His senses were permeated with vanilla and cedarwood, followed by the smell of your floral shampoo. The warmth of your body spread across his chest, and he tried to memorize the way your soft hands felt so small resting on his shoulders. Reluctantly he pulled away.

“So how much catching up do I have to do?” you asked. Hawks swirled around the last of his beer.

“This is my second, but I can’t speak for the rest of my – uh - colleagues,” he said as he glanced at Mirko who was now forcing Best Jeanist to take a shot.

“Ah, I see,” you said slowly, following his line of sight.

“So what can I get you to drink?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You buying me a drink, Hawks?” He rolled his eyes as you elbowed him in his side wiggling your eyebrows.

“I needed a refill anyways and my tab’s already open. Don’t let it get to your head,” he teased back.

“Oh don’t you worry, I will.” The bartender placed two beers in front of you. You took a long sip, as you watched the hero swirl is drink. Something was off and you were going to get to the bottom of it.  

What Hawks was actually thinking as he stared at his beverage, was that he suddenly had no idea what to say or do with his hands.

“So are you going to spend the rest of the night cowering in the corner? Didn’t think you’d be the wet blanket of the bunch.” He nearly spat out his beer.

“I’m not a wet blanket,” he said defensively.

“Prove it.” You stuck out your hand. “Since you bought me a drink, I think I owe you a dance,” you said with a smirk. He looked at you thoughtfully.

“You owe me nothing except your friendship.”

“Oh we’re friends now? I thought we were colleagues,” poking fun at his earlier comment. He didn’t like the hole you were digging him into. He could flirt with a brick wall, yet for some reason the workplace flirtations that had escalated for two years between you two were not translating to the place where they would be most appropriate.

“I, uh, tend to get in the way. Better not.” He tilted his head towards his back where his wings hung lamely.

“Oh come on don’t be a party pooper,” you gave an encouraging smile. His eyes met yours only for moment, but looking at you was like looking directly into the sun. So he kept his eyes on your hand while he found himself uncharacteristically tongue tied. He took your extended palm, but didn’t budge when you tried pulling him off the barstool. He sensed your breath hitch as he held you in place. Your eyes traveled from your now interlocked hands to his face. “Hawks…?”

*beep* “We got a code red. I repeat, code red. Over.” *beep*

The noise came from your purse, pulling you both out of whatever trance you were in. He raised an eyebrow. Sure enough, you pulled out a walkie talkie and brought it to your mouth.

“Rescue effort deployed, over.” *beep*

His golden orbs finally met yours, your eyes swimming with sympathy.

“I’ve been summoned. I don’t know what’s going on here, but come find me when you’re done sulking, yeah?”

He released your hand and watched as you disappeared into the dance floor, but not before he saw you ward off an unwanted suitor leering over Mount Lady who was still gripping the sister walkie-talkie.

He settled back into the bar seat and chugged.  

“I thought you were fun at parties.” Best Jeanist saddled up beside him, dropping off his empty round. Hawks groaned.

“Not you too.”

“It’s my birthday, you’re obligated to be nice to me. Not that I thought it would be so difficult for you.”

“It’s my first night off in months man, I’m just a little tired.”

“We’re all tired, that’s no excuse.”

Hawks felt guilty, Best Jeanist was right. Embarrassment bubbled in his gut, though maybe that was just the beer.

“Relationships are like a new pair of high quality jeans –“

“Please stop.”

“At first, the fibers are stiff. They take a while to break in, may even feel uncomfortable at first. But after a few wears, the fabric relaxes and molds to the wearer. The perfect denim…”

“Are you done?”

“No. You knew she was going to be here tonight so what gives?”

Hawks ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

-

You and Hawks had been at it for hours. You let out a low groan.

“Can you grab that box for me? I can’t reach.”

Hawks couldn’t help himself. You looked so cute on your tip toes arms extended. The persona you exuded in court was bigger than life, but outside that you were quite ordinary. He liked that you weren’t so infallible that you were beyond the need for his assistance.

The boxes of evidence filled the office, floor to ceiling. You had gone through most of them, only one pile was left. Technically he didn’t have to be there, but he’d bumped into you in the halls of the HPSC long past most had left the building. You explained your plight that the other junior associate assigned to the case with you had bailed. It was for one of the villains he’d captured anyways, so he volunteered to help.

“Yeah, I got it Birdie.” He walked over to where you were, but you didn’t budge. Stubbornly you continued to wave your arms as though you’d be able to summon the box clearly out of reach through sheer will alone. It was, in a word, adorable. So he perched himself behind you, pressing against your backside to absolve you of your struggle. He was being mindful of space - was the story he told himself, which was a lie. It would also be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy it.

You inhaled sharply and instinctively closed your eyes, his cologne infiltrating your nose. It’s not that you and Hawks hadn’t made physical contact before, it’s just that it was mostly in the form of professional or friendly touches. Like handshakes or pats on the back or nudging arms. There had only been a handful of other times where there was accidental increased contact, and each time felt like an out of body experience. This was no different. You tried not to push your ass into him as he reached above you, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. Meekly, you let your arms drop to your sides as a shiver rolled down your spine.

You only turned around when you heard him drop the box on the ground. You let your back land on the stack of boxes against the wall. You drank in his form, mere inches away from you. Jacket and gloves long discarded, you admired the veins in his forearms and the contours of his muscles that shown through his shirt. You knew he caught you staring, but you didn’t mind.

Hawks stared right back at you, silently enjoying the way the collar of your blouse, now partially unbuttoned and lopsided, showed off your clavicle. Your hair once perfectly coiffed now fell in a loose bun, strays falling around your face. Your half-lidded eyes beckoned him to close the tiny gap between you.

Maybe it was sleep deprivation that he forgot who you were (his coworker) or where he was (inside your office in the building of the HPSC). All sense of rationality went out the window the moment Hawks decided to take a step forward. Your eyes followed as he placed a hand next to your head, then trailed up the length of his arm back to his face, finally focusing on his lush lips that were suddenly very close. You held your breath as you patiently waited for impact that never came. His beeper went off, startling you both and cutting the moment short.

-

That was last night.

You were a lawyer. You followed rules. You enforced rules. Not that sleeping/dating a coworker was illegal, but it felt like you were doing something wrong. You weren’t each other’s superiors or subordinates, you weren’t in the same department, you checked the Commission’s bylaws and there was nothing else explicitly prohibiting romantic relations between employees. But you were still scared to disrupt the status quo.

You didn’t think much of it at first. You knew Hawks flirted with anything with a pulse. So you didn’t see the harm in giving him a taste of his own medicine every now and then. You weren’t sure when you started having actual feelings for him. It might have been a few months ago when you got to your office in the morning after a long night of work, only to find a coffee and a crimson feather on your desk. When had you told him your coffee order? All you knew was that the exchanges that once felt like an inside joke now seemed like cruel and unusual punishment, a reminder that you were nothing special and that this was just how he acted with everyone.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out on the dancefloor. Your feet were starting to hurt. Mirko had fed you two shots and you were now nursing the remaining ice from your second gin and tonic. With clear liquor and cloudy eyes, you felt your confidence draining as the night wore on, no sign of The Winged Hero in sight. Did you go too far? Did you horribly misread last night’s events? Was he avoiding you?

You felt a pair of hands grip your hips, pulling you out of your daydream and realizing you had no idea where everyone else was. Your hand flew to your purse to grab your walkie-talkie.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to code-red me.” Your eyes immediately lit up as you turned around, too much alcohol in your system to play coy.

“You came!” Your hands excitedly drummed his chest. Your grin was infectious. He leaned in to make himself heard over the speakers.  

“Of course I did. Just took a while to find you, you’re pretty short.” His hot breath tickled your ear.

“You think I’m pretty?” you drawled, a lazy smile plastered on your face. The initial panic in his eyes softened as he realized your mistake. He didn’t have the heart to correct you, nor were you were wrong.

“That’s not what I – yeah… you’re pretty.” You pressed yourself up into him on tip toes, cupping a hand around his ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?” His heartbeat quickened, his own sobriety lacking along with his social filter. He should have shut it down, but instead he said:

“Always.”

“I – “

“Hey, watch it with those things.” His wings, again having a mind of their own, had inadvertently fluttered a drink out of a nearby patron’s hands - and he wasn’t happy about it. He was about to apologize, but you beat him to the response.

“Clearly it was an accident, why don’t you watch it you bitch-ass – ” On one hand, he thought it was very sexy how you tried to defend him. On the other, you were simply not threatening no matter how hard you tried and the last thing Hawks wanted right now was to ruin what felt like the most important moment of his life with a bar fight.

“I am very sorry sir, it was an accident. Feel free to use my tab the rest of the night,” he said to the man as he picked you up by your midsection and carried you away before you could finish the sentence. Even as you retreated, you continued your death glare towards the stranger who was left very confused.

Hawks placed you down in a corner where his wings and your sharp tongue hopefully wouldn’t cause any further disruptions. He leaned his back against the wall just to be safe.

“So do you usually go around starting bar fights?” he said with a smug smile.

“Me?! He started it and I was defending your honor,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re welcome,” you said defiantly. To your dismay, the hero let out a hearty laugh. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry. You’re right, you were very scary,” he finally got out as his laughter slowed.  

“Don’t lie,” you pouted.

“It was really cute.” He was still laughing, but you were starting to sober up.

“I said don’t lie.” Your meek voice was barely audible in the still boisterous bar. His eyes softened at your hardened expression.

“I-I wasn’t.” He was suddenly very aware of your surroundings, which was next to the line starting to form by the bathrooms. Loud chit chatter and crying coming from the ladies’ room mixed with sound of someone audibly vomiting from the men’s room was not exactly how he pictured this going down. He took your hand and started walking again.

“Ugh, where are we going now? Our friends are still there,” you groaned. Friends. Why was that word so easy for you, yet rolled off his tongue like sand paper?

“We can go back inside in a minute, but I want to talk.” He’d led you out the backdoor of the bar. You looked around, clearly confused.

“Dude, what is happening?”

“I couldn’t hear you in there and we were next to the bathrooms.”

“So you dragged me out to an alleyway next to a literal dumpster. Got it.” He looked around just to check if you were correct, which unfortunately, you were.

You couldn’t be serious with each other if you tried. Snorts and stifled giggles filled the alley, overpowering the dull bass from inside.

“I guess I really know how to set the mood, huh.” He scratched the back of his head, admiring the scenery.

“I didn’t know there was a mood to be set.” Your tone was inquisitive, free of judgement. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all night.”

Hawks took a deep breath, trying to gather his growing nerves. But he was a coward who’d rather fly into a burning building than share his feelings so he deflected.

“You said you were going to tell me a secret in there. What was it?”

Your felt your cheeks immediately burn. The liquid courage you had before was wearing off so you volleyed back.

“You have to tell me a secret first,” you said defensively. Hawks rolled his eyes.

“I’ve already told you two secrets tonight, you just weren’t paying attention.”

“Like wha- oh.” You brought a hand to your mouth to cover the audible gasp that left your lips. You wondered if Hawks was embarrassed. If he was, he hid it well under the guise of a knowing smirk. It was at that moment you noticed how his gilded eyes shone spectacularly under the dim glow of the nearby streetlamp. Perhaps the embarrassment, if any, was also pacified by how clearly flustered you were by the culmination of all that had transpired in the last 24 hours. You crossed your arms. “Well… I still need one more secret from you.”

“Wow, three for the price of one? Now you’re just overselling it.” He stopped teasing when he saw you pouting again. Not a playful pout, but the kind that made it look like you were about to break. He never thought of you as fragile before. He grabbed your hand, averting his gaze.

“You have to promise to keep it a secret, ok?” You nodded, squeezing his hand for reassurance.

“I promise.” He took a deep breath, finally gathering the courage to look you in the eyes again.

“Keigo.”

“What?”

“Keigo,” he said again. “Keigo Takami. That’s my real name.” Your eyes widened in horror realizing you’d made him compromise his own security. You frantically began scanning your surroundings for any unintentional witnesses. He grabbed your shoulders to steady you.

“Oh my god, Hawks, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to –“

“Shhhh it’s ok there’s no one else around. You didn’t force me, I want you to know. Please, call me Keigo.” He watched the rise and fall of your chest, trying to monitor your labored breathing. Again, this was not going as planned. Not that he really had a plan to begin with. But even if he did, causing you to go into cardiac arrest surely was not on the list. Your breath finally started to slow.

“Keigo,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. You liked the way his name felt on your tongue, so you said it again. “Keigo.”

He tried to suppress a smile, watching how the corners of your lips tugged upwards. His hand, seemingly acting on its own, stroked your hair as he continued to sooth you.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” which was another way to say he’d never heard a more beautiful sound in his life than his real name falling from your lips.

He tried to lighten the mood, not wanting to cause you any more distress than he already had over the course of the night.

“Not to brag, but this better be one hell of a secret ‘cause–“

He didn’t get to finish the sentence. You grabbed him by the collar to bring his lips to yours in a messy, fervent kiss that took his breath away but was over in the blink of an eye before he could act or process.  

You pushed him away slightly as you caught your breath, looking just as surprised as he was about the whole ordeal.   

“I-I’m sorry I should’ve asked –“

He crashed into you as he held both sides of your face, afraid you may float away if that beautiful mind of yours started to overthink as it often did. The force knocked you into the building behind you, but you didn’t mind. Wandering hands traveled over each other’s bodies, both eager to explore foreign skin. Your tongues danced in unison as you body tingled under his erratic touch, grabbing your arms, back, hips, waist, hair, whatever he could hold onto unable to stay in one place for long.

You couldn’t stop your own hands from feeling the muscles you’d watched from afar for so long, enjoying the ripple of his abs, the sturdiness of his chest, finally landing around his neck. You pulled him impossibly closer, spiteful of the little space that still separated you. His wings protectively caged around you, shielding any prying eyes from your compromising position.

In an extraordinary display of restraint he kept a hand on your ribcage, his fingers delicately ghosting the band of your bra over your clothes, his intent clear but never crossing boundaries. You smiled into the kiss deciding to take advantage of the new privacy as you placed your hand over his to guide it to its true destination. He let out a groan that reverberated against your lips as he squeezed the soft flesh under him, still in disbelief that he should be so lucky to experience all that had only existed in his imagination. He swallowed the soft moan you let out when he grazed his thumb over your sensitive nipple that peaked through the fabric of your top. You rolled your hips forward desperate for friction, and he eagerly returned the favor. You gasped at the feeling of his bulge against your pelvis, which you realized was the first time you’d come up for air since you locked lips.   

His mouth traveled down your neck until he found a sweet spot that made you squirm. Your hand also made its way south, but your path was halted by his calloused hand when you reached the waistband of his pants. Hawks might fuck you in an alleyway outside a bar, but Keigo wanted to build you the softest nest to lay you on because you deserved nothing less.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of you neck as his other hand drew little circles on the small of your back.

“Technically… that wasn’t a secret,” he whispered into your skin. Your chests rattled against one another as laughter escaped your lungs.

“You’re an ass,” you said through fits of giggles. He nipped a little more at your neck, encouraging you on. “If you’re going to make me say it… I wanted to kiss you. Tonight. And last night. And the day before that. And the week before that. And –“

He kissed you once more to cut you off, but this time it was sweet and soft. It made you feel calm and centered. So when he pulled away, you decided to share more.

“Can I tell you another secret?”

“If it’s anything like the first one, absolutely.” He brought your captured wrist to his mouth, leaving a trail of small kisses over your hand. Your heartbeat that finally started to slow picked right back up.

“I’ve never flown before.” You not-so-subtly glanced at his wings before looking back at him, eyebrow raised. He gave you a wicked grin.

“Yeah I can give you a ride little bird. Not to be presumptuous, but uh… your place or mine?” You pretended to think hard about the proposition.

“Hmm. I’d say appropriately-sumptuous, and… dealer’s choice.” Hawks had found his way to your neck again which made thinking straight quite difficult, but you persisted nonetheless. “Though… maybe we go back inside and table this for another hour. I feel bad leaving without saying goodbye.”

Hawks moved up the column of you neck until his breath was in your ear.

“I’m gonna go on a limb and say, I think it would make the birthday boy very happy if we didn’t.” Despite the blush that crept to your cheeks knowing you may be the subject of workplace gossip tomorrow, your core clenched in anticipation at his words. The hero could tell from your dazed expression that it was time to go. That was, at least, until the walkie-talkie in your purse went off again.

*beep* “Code blue, y/n where are you? Over.” *beep*

You could see his sails deflate when you pulled out the device, assuming once again that his plans were foiled. Not one to put up a fight, he moved towards the door to reunite with everyone. But you didn’t budge, squeezing his hand to hold him in place. He watched closely as your other hand brought the walkie-talkie to your mouth. The playful twinkle in your eyes told him all he needed to know.

“The eagle has landed in the nest. Over.” *beep*

[svu-bracket]

playoffs (round 5)

descriptions under the cut

ludacris -> appeared in two episodes, venom and screwed as ken's (fin's son) half brother. he does some crazy shit but is found not guilty, fin and ken disown him after.

robin williams -> appeared in the season 9 episode authority. plays a man who pretends to be a police officer and gets another person to commit sexual assault by talking him into it on the phone.

[vaguely-concerned]

it probably says something either sad or deeply unfortunate about me as a person, but I'm darkly amused to see some people react to the reveal of the ultimate permeability of souls in tlt as a triumphant thing -- the "you can't take 'loved' away!!!" side of it all -- when my first reaction was such an immediate wave of 'oh, oh so this is why this series is horror, I truly understand now' distress haha. ngl the final confirmation of the self not being inviolable in the deepest way freaks me the fuck out far more than any moment of body horror in the series has managed. (these two elements are of course the two sides of one thematic coin; it's about the horror of our bodies and minds and selves not being inviolable things, and about the effect of violence on them on so many different levels. violence psychological and interpersonal, physical, subtextually sexual, emotional, medical, political, a whole unlovely smörgåsbord of indignity and violation a person can be exposed to, and on a broader scale the spectrum of violence colonialism wields). The world and other people being capable of leaving indelible marks on us for good or ill through their presence in our lives is of course a pretty self-evident demonstrable truth in the real world, but somehow having it be proven metaphysically just uh. Fucks me up! 

It also drives home to me just how perfectly Muir has captured the dilemma at the heart of human connection and intimacy: the fact that the thing that gives us life and meaning is also capable of harming us so deeply. the same thing that can be so beautiful — even in a bittersweet, violently transformative form like with the creation of Paul — when done mutually and consensually and compassionately, is the same process that means someone like John can touch someone else's soul and 'after he's put his fingers on something, you'll never find anyone else's fingerprints on it; too much noise'. I think the text itself — the whole series, because to me this is what it is ultimately about, this tension between individuation/self vs. love/connection/enmeshment — is far more ambivalent in its treatment of it than saying it’s inherently a good thing or inherently a bad thing. The only thing it says for sure is that it is always a thing, that thinking you’re ever getting away from it is the height of futility, and that through being alive (or even through being dead lol) it is something you have to engage with in some way no matter what. Contact with other people is deeply necessary — without it we sicken and die. it can be the most beautiful and meaningful thing in a human life, and the most unspeakably horrific. All of these people are searching for some way to be whole, whether in total self-contained sufficiency on their own or in melding with someone else as their ‘other half’, and stumbling around in the dark they reach for each other and score deep wounds into the thing they’re trying to touch even when they don’t mean to. Taken to horrific extremes with the form of lyctorhood John guided his disciples to when they were ‘children — playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water, thinking it was space’, because while people hurt each other all the time with differing levels of intentionality behind it, what John did was deliberate. It weaponizes the misapprehension of what closeness must be and destroys everyone involved in the process… and all because it leaves John the one sun their ruined lives have left to orbit around, because that’s the closest thing his soul will allow to connection. He doesn’t understand that to truly touch something you have to truly let it touch you back, and then wonders why he’s never satisfied.   

‘The horrors of love’ has been memed to death, I know, but… yeah. That is what it is, isn’t it.

[yuurionviktor]

Tried to make her as sickly looking as I physically can

[venomousray]

Some of my favourite Hemingway screenshots because I love him. Honourable mention to Ernest eating the cigarette because it’s hilarious.

[foldingfittedsheets]

so I've been following along with the mattress questions because my mattress is just about exactly 10 years old and sags SO BAD. It's deeply, deeply uncomfortable and all the things you've been saying to look for to replace, it has. I've already decided that when I start getting my paychecks this fall, the first thing I'm buying is a new mattress.

Are there any brands that sell $800-$1000 queen beds that you'd recommend? I get so overwhelmed with choice, so names to at least check out at the store would be useful.

Also, is it better to get a mattress topper earlier rather than later? Or should you wait until you notice problems with it to shell out for one?

(thank you so much, I had just resigned myself to sleeping bad forever, but this series of answers reminded me that I'm an Adult with Adult Money and can (eventually) buy myself a new one. and as I buy the new one, I WILL be buying a couple protectors)

Hmmnnngh. Okay. So here’s the thing. There’s a lot of really good queens in that price range. But taking a recommendation usually supersedes personal comfort, which is why almost all of these asks I deal in generalities rather than specifics. Also because bed names vary by retailer to be confusing because why not.

Just because I think a bed feels good doesn’t mean someone else won’t like something better, and I’ve seen a ton of folks who buy the bed a friend recommends even though their comfort is different. They return it later. So I am going to name names, but it’s very important that you take into consideration how the bed feels not just that I said it’s a good brand. We straight up don’t tell people what we sleep on for this reason because people will just buy that one assuming it’s the best.

Sealy, Serta, and Simmons all make great beds around that price point that I’ve had personal experience with. But as scary as it is the best thing to do is go into a store. The person is there to guide you around. You don’t need encyclopedic knowledge of beds, because it’s all about first how it feels to you. Their job is to help you navigate the showroom from there.

My personal process and what’s still taught in my company is to determine the comfort that fits you, then look at different styles in that comfort. Most folks are a medium-plush if you’re a side sleeper never go firm, ever, for real. Once you know how soft you like it you can compare A-B style between innerspring, hybrid, and foam.

Most people will have a strong preference for one of the three, and you won’t know before trying. Then you can narrow down from there. There’s probably only like six maybe seven beds you need to lay on to find the one!

Regarding the topper: no. Get a bed you like out the gate. When it sags, get a new bed. The ONLY time you will need a topper is if your bed is too hard on shoulders and hips and ideally you’re not buying that because you’ve just bought a super comfy amazing new mattress that’s perfect as is.

You need a thin waterproof protector and sheets and that’s it. Anytime you’re adding stuff like a topper or an extra pillow something is failing you and should get kicked to the curb.